My Colleagues Fled While I Burned Alive

Before the holiday break, my colleagues swarmed around me, pleading persistently:

I heard you got a new car. Can you take us to the West Coast for vacation?

You're the steadiest driver! We trust you! We definitely won't let you lose out on gas money!

Soft-hearted as I was, I gave in and drove all nine people in our team on a thousand-mile road trip---for free.

The entire journey was over a thousand miles. I drove nonstop, alone, until my hands were trembling from exhaustion.

Everyone in the car just ate, drank, and had fun. No one ever offered to take over.

On the day of the carnival, a few drunk men rushed over from the roadside,

wrenched open my car door, and dumped two huge buckets of water directly into the driver's seat.

Water flooded into the control panel. The car started billowing white smoke.

Trapped inside, I screamed for help: "Don't leave! Pull me out!"

But my colleagues---who'd been thanking me profusely just moments before---all fled without a shred of mercy.

I spent over forty days in the ICU. My parents sold our house to save me and destroyed their health in the process.

Yet this group of people never came to visit. Instead, they viciously slandered me in the company group chat.

Savannah even sent a voice message:

"I warned him not to drive long distances, but he just had to play the hero and show off!"

My colleagues chimed in one after another:

"He almost got us all killed. So selfish!"

"Who'd dare go anywhere with him again!"

No matter how I tried to explain, no one would listen. The company fired me outright, citing unauthorized organization of activities.

I died filled with resentment.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd returned to one week before the holiday.

Looking at these people surrounding me with fake smiles and flattery, my eyes turned ice-cold.

In this life, I will never be soft-hearted again. For every betrayal and injury, I will repay them double!

The pothos plant on my desk was still alive. There was no scar on my left hand.

Savannah walked over from the break room in her high heels, holding a latte. She bent down and leaned close to my ear:

"Adrian, didn't you request annual leave to go on vacation to the West Coast? It's right during the carnival festival too. Why don't you take us along? We can split the gas!"

I saved the email I was typing as a draft and closed the screen.

"I'm not going anymore."

Savannah blinked. "What? But your leave was already approved. Didn't you book a hotel too?"

I picked up the water glass on my desk and took a sip.

"I canceled it."

"I canceled everything."

I stared at the blinking cursor on my computer screen. I couldn't type a single word.

All I could see were scenes from my previous life.

I remembered every second of those three minutes when the fire burned up from beneath my feet.

After the seatbelt buckle got soaked with water, it wouldn't release no matter how hard I pressed.

I yanked at it until my nails flipped back, until the flesh on my fingers was rubbed raw, but I still couldn't get it undone.

The smoke came first, choking me so badly I couldn't even open my eyes. Then the heat rose layer by layer.

I screamed until my voice went hoarse, until I couldn't make any sound at all.

The car door was open. Savannah had left it open when she ran.

I could see the road outside. People were running on the road, filming videos, screaming.

But no one came to pull me out.

In the end, it was a DoorDash delivery guy who happened to ride by on his motorcycle. Without a word, he rushed in, used a blade he carried with him to cut the seatbelt, and dragged me out of the driver's seat by force.

That guy's arm got burned too. Later, when I was in the ICU, I asked my dad what his name was.

My dad shook his head. He said the guy left right after putting me down. Didn't even leave a phone number.

Eight colleagues. Two thousand miles. Free rides, food, and lodging.

In the end, the one who saved me was a stranger.

I pulled my thoughts back and glanced around the office.

Twelve desks, nine people seated.

Savannah sat diagonally across from me. She was looking down at her phone. After I rejected her just now, she went back to her seat without another word, but I knew what she was thinking.

It was the same in my previous life. After being rejected the first time, she stayed quiet for about half an hour, then started round two.

Sure enough.

She put down her phone, turned to look at me, and changed her expression.

"Adrian, are you under too much work pressure lately? I think you really need to get out and relax. Look at those dark circles under your eyes."

"Yeah, I'm a bit tired," I said.

"Then you should definitely go out and have fun." Savannah stood up and walked to my cubicle, resting one hand on the back of my chair. "The West Coast is great. The carnival is so lively. You'd be so bored going alone. If we all go together, we can take turns driving so you can rest too."

Take turns driving.

In my previous life, she'd said the same thing. Two thousand miles, eight people, and I was the only one who ever touched the steering wheel throughout the entire trip.

Eight people, eight excuses, each more ridiculous than the last.

"I'm really not going," I said. "I withdrew my leave request too. I'll just stay home this weekend."

Savannah's hand slid off my chair back. Her mouth fell open.

"You... you withdrew your leave too?"

"Yeah."

"But that was your annual leave. If you don't use it, isn't that a waste?"

"I'll save it for later."

Savannah looked at me for a few seconds, then smiled.

"Alright then, rest well."

She turned and went back to her seat.

I knew this was just the beginning.

At lunchtime, the break room started getting lively.

I sat alone at a small table in the corner with my lunch box.

I used to eat with Savannah. She said she didn't like eating alone, so I waited for her every day.

Now that I think about it, in three years, when did she ever wait for me?

Voices drifted over from the microwave area, intermittent but clear enough for me to hear every word.

"What are you guys doing this weekend?" It was Maya, the youngest in our team, who'd just graduated and joined last year. "I want to go to the West Coast for vacation. It's right during the carnival, but plane tickets are so expensive---over three thousand dollars round trip."

"Didn't you say Adrian was driving there? Just ride with him," Marcus chimed in.

Maya lowered her voice, though not by much: "He said he's not going anymore. He even withdrew his leave."

"Huh? Why'd he suddenly cancel?"

"No idea. Savannah asked him but he didn't say why."

"Then what do we do? Plane tickets are too expensive, and the train takes forever."

"Driving would be the most economical, but he's the only one in our team with a car."

"And it's a brand new car too. If we split the gas money, we could save a lot over two thousand miles."

At this point, several people glanced in my direction simultaneously.

I pretended not to notice and kept eating.

The lunch box contained fried chicken pieces and baked mac and cheese my mom made last night. The chicken was crispy, but I couldn't taste anything as I chewed.

In my previous life at this time, I was excitedly sending everyone the trip itinerary, wishing I could plan every day's route and every meal's restaurant. I'd even bought sunscreen and waterproof bags for everyone in advance. Eight sets. Cost me nearly a thousand dollars.

Savannah had said: "Adrian, you're so thoughtful. Whoever marries you will be so lucky." Followed by a string of laughing and heart emojis.

Thoughtful. Thoughtful enough to nearly burn to death in a fire.

After finishing lunch, I washed my lunch box and put it back in my bag. As I passed Savannah's cubicle, she was talking to Maya.

When they saw me coming, both fell silent at the same time.

The air went quiet for about two seconds.

Savannah spoke first: "Adrian, finished eating? What was in your lunch today?"

"Fried chicken."

"Smells so good. Next time have your mom make me some too."

In my previous life, she'd said the same thing. My mom really did make it for her. For three years.

Every time Savannah came to my house, my mom treated her like half a daughter, making a whole table of food, and insisting she take home two containers when she left.

Savannah said she'd had no mother growing up. My mom felt sorry for her.

Later, when I was lying in the ICU, Savannah posted in the employee group chat saying I'd insisted on driving my new car to take her to the carnival and nearly got her killed. When my mom saw that message, she was at the ICU entrance signing a critical condition notice.

"Maybe some other time," I replied flatly and walked back to my cubicle.

Behind me, Maya said something quietly. I didn't turn around.

At 2:30 PM, our manager held a brief meeting.

It was supposedly to discuss wrapping up the second quarter projects, but it was really just a formality since most of the work was done. Only some finishing touches remained.

Halfway through the meeting, Manager Mr. Smith casually asked: "What are everyone's plans for the weekend? Is the on-call schedule set?"

Savannah raised her hand: " Mr. Smith, I've arranged the on-call schedule. I'm on duty this weekend. Maya and Marcus will rotate the other days."

The manager nodded.

Then Savannah's tone shifted, becoming very natural:

"By the way, Mr. Smith, a few of us in the team wanted to go to the West Coast for vacation and catch the carnival, but plane tickets are too expensive, and so is renting a car. Adrian was originally going to drive there, but suddenly he's not going anymore, so we're stuck."

As she said this, her eyes swept over me---quick, but I caught it.

Everyone else's gazes drifted toward me at the same time.

Mr. Smith glanced at me: "Didn't Adrian request annual leave? Why aren't you going now?"

"I changed my mind. I want to rest at home."

"Young people shouldn't just rest at home. Take advantage of your time off and go out." Mr. Smith smiled and didn't say more.

But Savannah didn't stop.

"Exactly, Adrian. If you don't go, none of us can go. Your car is so spacious---it can easily fit eight people. Splitting the cost over two thousand miles would be way cheaper than plane tickets."

The way she said it, she wasn't asking me---she was deciding for me.

Kiera immediately chimed in: "Right, right! Adrian, your car is so big. Take us with you. Plus, it's not safe for you to drive that far alone. With more people, we can look out for each other."

Look out for each other.

In my previous life, when the car caught fire, all eight of them ran faster than rabbits.

Look out for what? Watch me burn?

"I said I'm not going." My voice came out louder than I'd intended. The conference room went quiet for a moment.

Savannah's smile stiffened briefly, then quickly recovered.

"Alright, alright. If he doesn't want to go, don't force him." She waved at everyone, her tone light as if discussing something trivial.

But I saw Kiera's mouth twitch downward.

Marcus leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen on the table. He didn't say anything, but his expression clearly read: Fine, so you won't help us, huh.

Less than an hour after the meeting ended, Savannah posted a message in the employee group chat.

"Everyone! Regarding the weekend trip, I've organized the details. Colleagues who want to go to the carnival, please reply below. I'll figure out transportation, don't worry."

A string of names immediately followed.

Maya, Marcus, Kiera, Helen, Leo, Peter, Nathan.

Seven people. Plus Savannah herself made eight.

Exactly the same as my previous life.

The only one who didn't reply was me.

Savannah posted another message in the group: "Adrian, do you want to reconsider? It's more fun with more people. You'd be so bored at home alone."

I didn't respond.

About half an hour later, Savannah stood up from her seat and walked to the conference room doorway, tapping on the door frame.

"Everyone, come in for a minute. Quick meeting, won't take long."

She called it a "quick meeting," but she stood in front of the projection screen with a marker in hand. The whiteboard already had a title written on it: "Weekend Carnival Trip Plan."

The handwriting was neat. Clearly prepared in advance.

I sat in the back row, watching her.

"I checked, and plane tickets are sixteen hundred to two thousand one way. Round trip would be three to four thousand. Too expensive." Savannah wrote a number on the whiteboard and crossed it out.

"I also checked buses, but there's no direct route. You'd have to transfer twice, and just the journey alone takes over thirty hours. Total waste of time." Another cross.

"For renting a car, an eight-seater van costs twenty-eight hundred one way, fifty-six hundred round trip. Split among us, that's seven hundred per person. Cheaper than flights, but still not cheap."

She paused, tapping her marker on the board twice.

"The most economical option, actually, is a self-drive. Gas plus tolls for two thousand miles would be about a thousand dollars. Split eight ways, that's only a bit over a hundred per person."

At this point, her gaze moved from the whiteboard and naturally settled on me.

Not just her---everyone was looking at me.

I was the only one in the team with a car. Everyone knew that.

I sat in my chair, twirling my pen, my face expressionless.

"But the problem is," Savannah put down her marker, "Adrian is the only one in our team with a car, and his is electric. Charging is even cheaper than gas. If he could take us, splitting the charging fees among everyone, it might not even cost a hundred dollars."

Kiera was the first to speak: "Less than a hundred dollars! That's such a steal!"

"Exactly," Maya followed up. "Buying plane tickets myself would cost thousands. Adrian, please take us."

Marcus said, "Your car fits eight people comfortably anyway. I saw it once---the back row can fold down into a bed."

"Adrian, you're the best. Please help us out."

"We're all colleagues. This little favor is nothing."

"You're not even paying for gas. You're just giving a few people a ride."

One after another, talking over each other.

I waited until they finished, placed my pen on the table, and slowly straightened up.

The conference room fell silent.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not going to the West Coast anymore. And I'm not lending my car either."

Savannah's hand holding the marker froze.

Kiera's mouth gaped open.

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from expectation to shock.

"Why?" Savannah asked. Her voice was taut.

"No particular reason. I just don't want to go."

"What about the car? Can't we drive it ourselves? We don't need you to drive."

"No."

Savannah bit her lip. After a long moment, she spoke: "Adrian, you weren't like this before."

I looked at her.

I wasn't like this before.

Right. Before, I would have smiled and agreed, then driven two thousand miles alone, booked hotels alone, made all the plans alone, and taken all the blame alone.

"People change."

After saying that, I picked up my phone and walked out of the conference room.

I'd barely sat down at my desk when my phone vibrated.

It was the department group chat.

Savannah had posted a message, @-ing my name.

"Adrian, I don't know what you're upset about, but everyone has been preparing for this trip plan for a long time. You're the only one with a car but you're unwilling to help everyone. I respect your decision. But I want everyone to know---it's not that I didn't try."

Silence for about ten seconds.

Then Marcus posted an emoji: a thumbs-down.

Kiera followed with a sighing emoji.

Maya didn't post an emoji, but she liked Savannah's message.

I stared at that message for five seconds.

In front of the whole team, Savannah had pinned me in the position of being "unreasonable." In my previous life, she'd done this after I got burned. In this life, she'd done it early.

But in my previous life, I hadn't taken screenshots.

This time I did.

I was about to lock my screen when Savannah sent another message. Not in the group this time---a private message.

"Adrian, I don't want our relationship to sour. But think carefully. I'm the one who arranges the on-call schedule. Next month's project assignments go through me too. Do you really want to oppose the entire team?"

I looked at that line of text, my finger hovering above the screen. This wasn't a request anymore. This was a threat!