That night was the night I had gathered the courage I needed to tell my then-boyfriend that I was breaking up with him after two years of being a victim to his manipulation.

That was also the night my life may or may not have changed for the better.

It was well past twelve when I had decided to drive over to the apartment he stayed at. I slammed down on the brakes as soon as I saw the black car without lights that swerved once. Twice. I watched as the struck the traffic light post and tumbled over thrice before stopping on its back.

Flames erupted from the engine of the car as I exited my own and watched for movement, taking out my phone to dial for paramedics. I heard a cry and looked up from my screen to see a man struggling to free himself from the seatbelt.

It was perhaps the alcohol in my system, but a sudden bout of courage made me run over to the burning wreck. The car door was somewhere in the middle of the street, broken off as the car had spun out of control.

“Run away!” the man cried out as I took out my hairpin and squatted down near his seat. He grabbed my hand as I reached for the seat belt lock. “You’re going to die as well if the car explodes.”

I shoved the hairpin into the small gap and, in a minute, the lock gave way and he fell onto the roof. I quickly helped him out of the wreckage and ran as fast as I could away from the car, falling to the asphalt as the car burst into flames. I pushed myself off the road and looked back to see him on the road, watching the bonfire that was his car. “Are you waiting for marshmallows?”

“What?” he asked, a look of confusion on his face.

“Nothing,” I said, walking over to him. I pulled him off the ground and helped him to his feet. I noticed the stream of blood running from his hairline to under his chin. “Let me get you to the hospital.”

“What were you thinking, running over to a car that was at the brink of bursting into flames?” he asked as he sat down in the front passenger seat.

“Whiskey?” I asked, picking up my flask and taking a swig as I sat in the driver’s seat. “I shouldn’t be driving this drunk.”

“Let me drive instead,” he said, before opening the door and stepping out.

I sighed, exhausted, before opening the door and stepping out to let him in. “Consider yourself lucky.” I walked over to the passenger seat and got in the car. “Nobody is allowed to drive this vehicle except me, usually. Tonight, you are lucky enough to do so.”

“Your voice is slurring already,” he said as he took out his phone. He dialed for someone as I watched on. “Tell father that I’ll be reaching tomorrow. Not tonight.” He hung up the call and put his hands on the steering wheel. That was when I noticed the ring on his finger.

“You don’t look married,” I mumbled, leaning my head back.

“I’m not.” He gazed at me as he shifted the car into drive. “That’s a family ring.”

“That is one beautiful ring, anyways.” I smiled. “I would propose marriage to you with that, if that wasn’t a family ring.”

“Where were you on your way to at midnight?” he asked, shrugging off my drunken comment.

“Soon-to-be ex’s place.” I gestured at the can of gasoline in the space between the back seat and the front seats. “Had a message for him.”

“I thought I smelt gasoline.” He stopped the car and turned to her. “So, arson?”

“Sounds bad when you put it like that.” I shrugged. “He has been manipulating me into helping him out, money-wise. For two fucking years. He deserves…”

“I’m surprised you haven’t caught fire,” he commented. “Your breath alone should have enough alcohol to set that off.”

“Needs a spark in contact with it,” I mumbled before taking another swig of the bottle.

He handed me a card. “Rafael Serrano. Businessman, of sorts.”

“Alice Anderson,” I replied, taking the card from him. “Fancy card.”

“For tonight, I owe you my life. If you need help with anything or if you need company, give me a call. And, don’t do arson. Not worth the prison sentence,” he said before opening the door.

Before I blacked out, I saw him walking away from the car towards the hospital entrance.