Too Late to Beg, My Arsonist Wife

On the day the fire broke out, my firefighter wife happened to be on patrol nearby.

I snatched my father’s phone away, refusing to call her for help, and led my parents straight to the rooftop to await rescue.

In my past life, the moment she got my call, she rushed over in a panic and dragged us out of the blaze.

Yet that very night, her childhood sweetheart slit his wrists because she stood him up for a movie.

My wife never blamed me aloud; she even smiled and hosted a lavish welcome-home dinner for my family.