That morning was just like so many others. Emma Parker, 29, an accountant from Austin, Texas, was busy in her warm, sunny kitchen making breakfast for her husband before going to work. She always got up early to cook, iron, clean up, and make sure everything was in order before grabbing her bag and dashing out the door.
Jason, her spouse, ran a modest business in the city.
But something has changed lately. He had become distant—distracted, always in a rush, skipping meals, and making excuses about “early meetings.” Emma felt the subtle sting of it, but she kept saying to herself,
He’s
The roads were busier than normal that morning. While Emma was waiting at the red light on Congress Avenue, she suddenly felt a sense of panic.
The stove!
Her heart stopped. She thought over the morning again: making eggs, getting a call from a customer on her phone, finishing the call, grabbing her purse, and leaving. But did she really turn off the stove?
Her heart raced. She turned around quickly without thinking, ignoring the horns behind her. “What about the neighbors if something catches fire or the house blows up?” She sped through the streets with her head racing.
Emma’s hands shook as she tried to open the gate when she finally got home.
As soon as she stepped onto the porch, something seemed off.
The front door was closed, yet a delicate, flickering light came from under the bedroom door, like candlelight.
That wasn’t fair. Jason should have already gone to work.
Emma slipped inside without making a sound. There was a strange smell in the air—a rich, sweet perfume that wasn’t hers. She felt her heart race when she heard quiet conversations coming from the bedroom.
Her
And stopped.
She could see Jason lying on the bed, half-dressed, with his arms around another lady through the little hole. There were clothes all over the floor. His voice, low and smug, floated across the air, and every word felt like a knife cutting into her.
“She’s so innocent. Still believes I’m at a meeting.
The world appeared to stop.
Emma felt the blood leave her body and her throat constrict until she could hardly breathe. She wanted to yell, weep, and break something, but then she looked over at the kitchen. That’s when she spotted it: the blue flame on the burner.
She approached it one step at a time. The home was quiet save for the soft hiss of gas. The flame’s light flickered slowly over her pale, unmoving face.
She looked at it—steady, fragile, alive—just like her marriage, which was only alive because she kept it that way.
Then, with a strange tranquility that she didn’t even know she had, she reached out, turned the knob, and the flame went out.
She gently cleaned up the cold meal she had made earlier, washed her hands, and went to the door. Don’t shout. No crying. Nothing but quiet.
Jason was startled when he heard the front door close a few moments later. He sat up quickly, panic all across his face.
He ran outside, still half-dressed, but the home was vacant. On the table was only a neatly folded note.
He picked it up and opened it with shaky hands.
“You called me naive. You could be right.
But if I hadn’t remembered to turn off the gas today, this house would have blown up, and you wouldn’t have had the chance to betray me.
Thanks for telling me that it’s time to leave.
Jason sat down in the chair, his face as white as chalk. He suddenly remembered the slight gas leak he had seen near the valve last night, and it scared him. He had planned to call a repairman, but he never did.
He and the woman in his bed may have been dead by dawn if Emma hadn’t come back when she did.
Emma had settled into a tranquil life with her mother on the outskirts of San Antonio months later. She started a tiny breakfast café close to the market. The reassuring sound of eggs sizzling filled the air every morning, and a lovely blue flame flickered beneath the pan. It was steady, delicate, and safely within her control.
A regular customer of hers once asked with a smile,
“Why do you always look at the flame like that?”
Emma smiled softly, and the firelight made her eyes shine.
“Because I learned something,” she said. “Sometimes you have to put out a fire to save yourself, not to stay warm.”
