They spoke of a sudden glow behind the commercial block, a strange silence before the roar, and then windows bursting outward as the fire leapt into the night. Parents dragged sleepy children down stairwells, neighbors banged on doors, and strangers guided the elderly through smoke-thick corridors. Above it all, helicopters circled, their searchlights cutting through the dark haze as firefighters fought to push the inferno back from homes and hospitals.

By dawn, the flames were mostly beaten, but the questions were not. Streets lay cordoned off, businesses were reduced to twisted frames, and families stared at blackened walls where their lives had once been. Officials promised a thorough investigation and support for the displaced, but trust felt as fragile as the cracked glass underfoot. In the uneasy quiet that followed, one truth settled over the city: nothing would feel entirely safe again.