Noah tries to save the food

"Get out of here! Go!" he shouted, a command more than a suggestion.

She hesitated, her wide blue-gray eyes searching his for reassurance. But Noah had already turned away. Grabbing a heavy blanket from the sofa, he threw it over the flames, smothering the fire as best he could. Heat seared his face as he fought against the blaze, grabbing their supplies out of the pantry.

By the time the fire was subdued, the room was filled with **** smoke. Noah coughed violently, his hands trembling as adrenaline buzzed through him. He stumbled toward the door to get fresh air, and that’s when he saw them.

Olivia was outside, sitting on the damp grass near the rainwater barrel. Greg was crouched beside her, holding her arm under the water. His hands were steady, his touch careful, but it was the way he leaned in, too close, that made Noah’s stomach churn.

Greg murmured something low, something Noah couldn’t hear, and Olivia gave a faint nod, her lips pressed together in pain. The sight of Greg’s hand on her shoulder, his other cradling her burned arm, sent a spike of heat through Noah’s chest. He gritted his teeth, his fists curling instinctively.

"How is she?" he asked sharply, stepping outside.

Greg looked up, his expression unreadable. "She’s fine. Got the burns under control. She just needs to rest."

“I’ll take it from here,” Noah snapped, marching toward Olivia.

But she didn’t look at him. Her eyes were cast down, her breaths shallow, and Noah could feel the sting of her unspoken judgment. He hadn’t chosen her. Not in the way Greg had.

Noah clenched his jaw and crouched beside her, brushing Greg aside with a quiet but firm motion. Greg smirked faintly, standing and stepping back, but not before giving Noah a pointed look—one that said, I was there when you weren’t.

The fire was out, most the food was saved, but as Noah glanced at Olivia’s quiet form and felt Greg’s lingering presence like a shadow, he wondered what the real cost of his choice had been.

[-5 Food, Olivia -30]