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I immediately called 911 and rushed toward the scene.
Not for Ethan—that scum didn't deserve it—but because there were other people inside.
The explosion was sudden. In my past life, the investigation showed the restaurant owner had illegally modified the gas lines, causing the accident.
When I got there, a crowd had already gathered.
Some passersby had been hurt too, but no one was critically injured.
I knew there were bags of flour stored near the blast site—a second explosion was coming, and it would be even worse.
I yelled to everyone nearby, “There's going to be another explosion! Move back—now!”
Some of the injured could walk on their own. For those who couldn't, a few kind strangers and I helped carry them to a safer distance.
But no one went inside to rescue anyone.
No sensible person would've done something that reckless—except my foolish past self.
Not long after the second explosion, the firefighters arrived.
With professionals on the scene, the fire was put out quickly. Ethan was carried out on a stretcher.
I pinched my thigh hard to make myself cry, then rushed toward him, sobbing.
Ethan looked awful—burns covered most of his body and face, and his legs were bloody.
I rode in the ambulance with him to the hospital and called his parents on the way.
I heard the doctors said his legs might not make it. His parents would have to sign the consent forms for amputation.
Right before we reached the hospital, I pretended to collapse from exhaustion. That way, I wouldn't have to run around handling Ethan's paperwork.
I took the chance to get some rest. A long while later, I finally headed to the ER.
Before I even stepped inside, I could hear Ethan's mom screaming.
“My son needs amputations? No, I won't allow it! I order you to fix him—give me back my son, whole and healthy!”
The doctor explained,
“Ethan's condition is critical. His legs are severely burned, and he was crushed by falling debris. The bones and soft tissue are too damaged to save. If we don't amputate, he could die.”
Ethan's mom kept arguing, “I don't care—I'm not signing anything. Let's see what you do then!”
The doctor said, “If you don't sign, we can't operate. I can't force you. But you might want to start planning a funeral.”
Ethan's dad said, “Maybe we should just agree. No legs is better than no life.”
His mom snapped,
“If he loses his legs, what if Olivia changes her mind and won't marry him? Without her family's support, how will your business survive?”
“We need the surgery, but we're not signing. I'll call Olivia—she can sign.”
Hearing that, I turned off my phone so she couldn't reach me.
It thrilled me to watch her squirm while I stayed hidden.
I saw her dialing over and over, then cursing in frustration. Eventually, she gave in and signed the form.
I didn't show myself until after Ethan was taken into surgery.
The moment she saw me, Ethan's mom started in.
“Where were you? You weren't by his side, and your phone was off. What kind of girlfriend are you?”
They were so obviously after my money. I wanted to slap my old silly self silly.
But for now, I had to keep playing along.
“I was so shocked and exhausted, I passed out. I came as soon as I woke up.”
I checked my phone. “My battery died—it wasn't on purpose. How is Ethan? Is he going to be okay?”
Ethan's mom yelled, “He was supposed to be on a date with you. Why is he the only one hurt?”
I said, “Ethan wanted bubble tea, so I went to get it. When I got back, the restaurant was already on fire.”
“Why didn't you go in and save him? If you'd rushed in sooner, he wouldn't be like this! You're a curse—this is all your fault!”
“Once he's out of the hospital, you two are getting married. Maybe some good news will help him recover.”
