The fire was closing in.

Lena didn’t have much time. The sky was thick with smoke, and the wind carried embers like burning confetti. The evacuation order had been issued hours ago, but Lena couldn’t leave—not yet. Not without it.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ached as she sped down the narrow road, weaving through a maze of abandoned cars. Traffic was stalled—everyone trying to flee, but Lena had only one destination: her house.

Her phone had died an hour ago, and her mind was fogged with panic. Her husband, Ethan, had left a letter for her, tucked inside the old cedar chest they’d inherited from his grandmother. It wasn’t just a letter. It was a promise. A promise he made to her before he left for the war. He hadn’t come back, and the letter was all she had left of him.

Now, the chest sat in the living room, waiting, but the fire was almost at the door. The flames were visible in the distance, orange tongues licking the ridgeline, inching closer.

"Not yet," she muttered to herself. She had to hurry.

When she reached her street, a thick cloud of smoke engulfed her. She barely saw the house as she pulled into the driveway. Flames were licking at the edges of the yard, sparking on the dry grass.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she leapt out of the car, ignoring the heat radiating from the front door. She ran inside, her lungs choking on the acrid air. The smell of burning wood had already begun to seep through the walls.

The living room was bathed in an orange glow. The cedar chest was still there, sitting under the window. She ran to it, but when she reached for the handle, something caught her eye.

The corner of a picture frame, half-buried under the remnants of a fallen bookshelf, was visible through the haze. It was their wedding photo—the day they promised forever to each other.

But there was no time.

Lena ripped open the chest and fumbled through the contents, her fingers trembling. Her breath came in short gasps. She pulled out clothes, old trinkets, and letters from long ago. But then, there it was—Ethan’s letter.

A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips, but it was fleeting. The heat was intensifying. The house creaked under the pressure.

She shoved the letter into her bag and turned to leave.

The flames were closer now, swirling around the edges of the doorframe. As she stepped outside, the heat hit her like a wall. Her eyes stung, and her skin felt raw from the fire’s proximity.

But she couldn’t stop.

Lena ran back to the car, slamming the door behind her. The wheels screeched as she floored the gas, heading toward the one safe place she could think of—the highway, the shelter, anywhere that wasn’t here.

The fire roared behind her, but she didn’t look back. The letter was in her hands, but it wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was the last thread that connected her to him, the last thing that reminded her of a love she thought she had lost forever.

As the flames continued to chase her, Lena knew she had made it out in time. But the letter wasn’t just a race against the fire—it was a race against the fading memories she had once thought would burn away with everything else.