ManyWriters

My neighbor burst into my house, his voice a mix of fear and urgency, causing my heart to race.
"Maya, there's a fire at your factory!"
Without hesitation, I grabbed the nearest jacket and rushed out. The dark plume of smoke in the distance was unmistakable.
Upon reaching the factory entrance, I found chaos. My cousin Lucia and mother-in-law Evelyn were frantically trying to open the locked electronic door. Evelyn was pounding on it, her voice hoarse from yelling.
"We need to break this door down!" Evelyn cried, tears streaming down her face as she continued to hit the door.
Beside her, Lucia paced anxiously, her face red and sweaty. She waved her arms, shouting at the growing crowd of spectators.
"There's someone inside! We have to get this door open now!"
As soon as Lucia spotted me, her eyes filled with desperation and rage. She stumbled towards me, grabbing my arm for support before pointing at the blaze.
"Harvey's trapped inside!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "You need to save your husband! You've got the card and you're the only one who knows the password!"
Sweat trickled down my neck as I looked at the burning factory. My chest felt tight, but I shook my head calmly, my voice steady amid the chaos.
"We should call the fire department for assistance," I said, taking out my phone. My fingers moved slowly across the screen, a stark contrast to the frantic atmosphere around me.
Evelyn whirled to face me, her expression contorting with rage. Her voice quivered as she pointed an accusing finger at me.
"He went in there looking for your accounting records, and now it's on fire! How can you just stand here watching? Are you even human?"
I met her gaze without flinching. Her wild eyes searched mine for any sign of emotion, but I merely shrugged, my nonchalance only fueling her anger.
"The fire's too dangerous," I stated. "What if I get injured?"

Wife's Cold Revenge in a Fiery Inferno

The hospital lobby was bustling when I arrived the next morning. I walked by groups of reporters huddled near the reception area, their hushed conversations barely audible.


Harvey was sitting up in his hospital bed when I entered his room. He looked frail and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, appearing diminutive against the crisp white bedding. His weary gaze immediately found me, and his face showed a mix of relief and urgency.


"Maya!" he called out, his voice weak but insistent. He tried to sit up straighter, his shaking hands clutching the blanket. "I'm so glad you're here!" His eyes met mine, imploring. "I don't hold anything against you. Please, don't do anything rash."


The journalists surrounding him turned as one, sensing a change. They raised their microphones and adjusted their cameras. The recording lights flickered on, and every lens swiveled towards me.


Evelyn, seated beside Harvey, let out a loud snort, drawing everyone's attention back to her. She tossed a damp cloth onto the nightstand and turned to glare at me, her lips curled in a spiteful smile. "Huh! You have the nerve to show up here? I've never met such a brazen woman!"


"Mom, please!" Harvey weakly protested, grimacing as he attempted to calm her.


Near the window, Lucia had been setting out a platter of freshly cleaned fruit. She put it down with a deliberate clank, the noise unnaturally sharp in the quiet room. A sarcastic smile played on her lips as she faced me. "What's your purpose for being here?" she asked, her tone icy with disdain.


"Why shouldn't I be?" I retorted. My eyes swept over Evelyn and Lucia before briefly resting on Harvey, whose complexion had grown even paler from the mounting tension.


The reporters exchanged meaningful looks, their eyes gleaming at the unfolding drama. A balding journalist pushed his way to the front, notebook and pen at the ready, his cameraman adjusting the focus.


"Pardon me," the reporter asked with feigned politeness, though his tone betrayed his excitement. "Are you his spouse?"


I met his gaze steadily, standing firm under the scrutiny of all the cameras and judgment around me. My voice was composed, unwavering, and purposeful.


The reporter's eyebrow arched slightly, his interest piqued. "Then tell us—why didn't you come to your husband's aid? How do you respond to these allegations?"


I cocked my head slightly, my eyes fixed on the nearest camera lens. The red light pulsed, awaiting my response.


6#06