My son died in that fire.
The rescue team couldn't get in, and my husband, the fire captain, had to make the agonizing call to divert the rescue efforts elsewhere.
Or so I thought.

I was consumed by the grief of losing my child, unable to pull myself together.
That was until I saw the little boy being carried out, sitting safely in the passenger seat of my husband's Ford F-150.
His high school sweetheart was holding the boy, laughing and chatting with my husband, Michael.
They looked like a perfect, happy family of three.
That's when I learned the truth.
Michael had lied about the fire being uncontainable just to ensure his first love's son would be saved first.

I rushed over to confront them.
In the ensuing struggle, Amanda shoved me.
I lost my balance, tumbled down the stairs, and smashed my head against a fire hydrant.
I died on the spot.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn.
I was back to the day my husband lied about the fire.
...
"Move! The situation is out of control! Everyone evacuate to Sector A , now!"
The familiar voice, accompanied by the crackling of burning timber, jolted me awake. A blast of heat and ash hit my face..
Michael was gripping my shoulders tightly.
"Emily, don't do this! We can't get into that building anymore. Do you want me and my crew to march in there and die?"
In my past life, this was exactly what Michael had said to me.
Back then, I had cried and begged him to try one more time. He had shut me down.
"Emily! There are people in other sectors waiting to be saved! If we waste time here, those who actually have a chance will die!"
He stared me down.
"I am Noah's father, but I am also a Captain in the FDNY! You have to understand!"
I trusted him then. I thought he was making a heartbreaking choice out of necessity.
I watched helplessly as he led his entire team toward the location of his first love's son, leaving me kneeling on the ground in despair.
Slap!
A crisp, loud slap landed hard across his face. I glared at him with pure hatred.
"You coward!"
I didn't wait for his reaction. I turned and sprinted toward the Incident Commander fifty feet away.
"Chief! Please! My son is still in Building B! Tenth floor!"
"Captain! I'm sorry! My wife is hysterical!"
Michael chased after me, grabbing me and pulling me behind him.
He addressed the Commander urgently.
"I've already assessed Building B. The structure is compromised! There is no safe entry point!"
"No! He's lying! My son is on the tenth floor! He couldn't have completed a full structural assessment that fast! My son is up there!"
"He's not thinking clearly!" Michael's voice boomed over mine.
"Building B is fully involved! Just because our son is inside, should we let people in Sector A die?"
"Enough!"
Before I could retort, the Commander frowned. He grabbed his radio.
"Dispatch, I need thermal imaging data on Building B immediately. Captain, are you saying there are definitely people inside Building B?"
Michael froze for a split second, then quickly pivoted.
"No... Chief, I mean, based on my assessment, the probability of survival in Building B is extremely low..."
"Probability? We don't make decisions based on 'probability' alone!"
The Commander barked into his radio.
"Engine 23, proceed immediately to Building B for structural assessment and life detection!"
Michael's face went pale. He stepped forward aggressively.
"Chief! That's a suicide mission! We could lose men! But Building A allows for a safe rescue, and there's a child waiting there too!"
He was desperate.
"We shouldn't abandon a guaranteed rescue for a low-probability one! If we concentrate our manpower on Building A, that kid is one hundred percent getting out!"
I felt the distant fire burning a hole in my heart.
Even now, he was trying to steer the crew I'd fought for toward his ex's kid.
The Commander looked at him coldly.
"You said 'low probability,' Captain, not 'zero.' If we don't try, that child has no chance."
He glanced at his tablet.
"Thermal shows a heat signature on the tenth floor of B."
A look of utter despair washed over Michael's face.
"You are unfit to continue command."
The Commander's tone was final.
"Captain Miller, as an immediate family member, you are to recuse yourself per FDNY regs. Stand by at Sector A. Lieutenant Johnson is taking over at Building B. We will do everything for your son."
It wasn't a suggestion.
It was an order.
Michael gritted his teeth, then stood rigid.
"Yes, Chief!"
He turned around and led a portion of his crew, sprinting toward Building A without looking back.
Watching him run so decisively away from our son, my smile was pure bitterness.
The thermal data showed signs of life in Building B.
The technical assessment showed equal difficulty for both buildings.
The Commander had essentially given him a graceful way out, a "reasonable" excuse to leave Building B.
How could a man, who was willing to risk everything for his first love's son, possibly let "regulations" stop him if he actually cared about his own child?