Charlotte Allen woke up feeling like she’d been run over by a truck. Her whole body ached. She snapped her eyes open and instinctively reached out, but her hands came up empty.
“Ethan! No...”
Clutching her chest, her face pale as a sheet, sweat dotting her smooth cheeks, she sat frozen on the edge of the short wooden bed.
Her mind was stuck right at the moment of her death.
She was trapped in a burning building, and Ethan Allen had dashed in without a second thought, holding her close—right before everything went up in flames.
The stabbing ache in her chest reminded her all too clearly—he was gone. The quiet, awkward man who loved her deeply was gone.
But… wasn’t she dead too?
Charlotte looked up sharply and caught her reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner. She froze.
In the mirror was a younger version of herself, early twenties maybe—shoulder-length curls dyed chestnut brown, her eyes bright and lively, pink cheeks, lips like rose petals. That was the face she had before the tragedy, before everything shattered.
After the kids died, she had aged at least ten years overnight. That young, vibrant look? Gone.
The room around her was cramped, with just a bed, a reddish-brown wardrobe, a little dressing table, a reading desk, a small stool, and two bedside cabinets. Every piece of furniture was crammed in, making the space feel even tighter.
This was the old apartment Ethan had back when he worked at the military hospital. They hadn’t been here in over twenty years.
Then Charlotte happened to glance at the calendar on the wall—and nearly fell apart.
It read June 22, 1996.
Not bothering with shoes, not fixing her clothes, she dashed out of the room, snatched up the bicycle keys, and ran.
After Ethan died, she’d somehow ended up back on the very day that wrecked their lives.
The day their triplets drowned after getting pushed into the deeper part of the river because no adult was watching closely enough.
Every single moment from that day had burned itself into her memory—etched like scars.
For over twenty years, she’d dreamed of going back in time, wishing she could change just that one day.
That was the day the nightmare began—for her, for Ethan. It was the start of a heartbreak they’d never outrun.
Those scenes played on loop in her dreams, always torn from sleep in a cold sweat.
Back then, she'd misunderstood something between Ethan and another woman and, in a fit of anger, had said she wanted a divorce. Ethan, thinking she was serious, didn’t even try to stop her—just went to work without a word.
It was the weekend, so she dropped the kids off at Ethan’s parents’ place on the outskirts of town, not wanting them to see their parents fighting.
Who would’ve guessed that Ethan’s uncle Robert Allen and sister Lily Allen had been waiting for that exact moment? They plotted together behind everyone’s back and went after the children out of pure spite.
Robert hated their parents for not giving him more land to grow produce to sell in the city—and for not handing over the old house and orchard at a bargain price.
Lily? She was bitter that their parents gave all their savings to Ethan and their kids. She saw Charlotte’s babies as stealing everything meant for her son, Oliver Reed.
She wanted all five of them dead.
Just like that.The two families had clearly coordinated everything without saying a word, waiting for the right moment. When the adults weren’t paying attention, they urged the two older kids in the house to push the clueless triplets into the water.
After the triplets drowned, neither she nor Ethan had a clue there was such a calculated plot behind it.
Everyone just thought it was a case of poor supervision. If she hadn't thought Ethan was fooling around with that female doctor at his workplace, insisted on leaving him, and sent the kids back to his parents’ house during their fight, the kids wouldn’t have wandered off to the river and accidentally slipped into the deeper area.
She blamed herself like crazy afterward. The guilt nearly drove her mad. She'd scream at herself, turn her fury on Ethan, and more than once, she even wanted to die with him so they could be with the kids again.
It wasn’t until years later, by pure accident, that Charlotte overheard an argument at Robert Allen’s place. It was then, from Ethan’s cousin Mark’s mouth, that she finally learned the horrible truth.
Turns out the triplets were murdered by Ethan’s uncle and his older sister’s families!
Thinking back on how stupid and careless she'd been, how she’d let her guard down and lost the kids that way—Charlotte’s heart tore apart like being sliced by a thousand blades. She jumped on her bike and took off like the wind, heading straight for the river where it had all gone wrong.
She could see Oliver Reed, Ethan’s nine-year-old nephew, from far off. He was with the triplets, walking along the shallow waters, picking up shells.
Just below that shallow area was a whirlpool-like deep zone, carved out over the years by the rushing current.
It was summer.
That whirlpool area was barely over a meter deep—enough that a nine-year-old like Oliver could manage—but for those little five-year-old kids, it could be deadly!
Standing at the edge, Oliver looked around. No one seemed to be watching. Then he pointed toward the deep part and said something. The three little ones leaned over, staring curiously at what he was showing them.
He was about to shove them in!
"No!" Charlotte's eyes nearly burst out of her head. The pain in her chest felt like someone had stabbed her heart. She yelled, "Matthew, Sophia, Nicholas! Run! Don’t go over there!"
She screamed so hard, it felt like her throat was gonna rip open!
What she’d seen in her nightmares—it was all happening for real!
But the wind was blowing her voice away. Even as she howled until her voice broke, the kids didn’t hear a thing. They just crouched there, eyes glued to whatever was in the water.
Then suddenly, that little brat Oliver, without a word, gave Sophia a shove into the deep!
She fell in, caught off guard, swallowed a gulp of water, and thrashed desperately, crying for help.
Matthew and Nicholas stood frozen in the shallow part, holding hands, trying to figure out how to help. Before they could react, Oliver snuck up and pushed Nicholas in too, dragging both boys into the swirl!
"No—!"
Charlotte managed a hoarse, gasping scream.
But her voice was too cracked, barely a whisper. Her throat was already wrecked... she could hardly get a word out.
Her heart felt like it was about to stop beating.
Was this why she came back to this day? To watch helplessly as her kids got shoved into the whirlpool by Oliver, flailing, crying, and eventually drowning in front of her eyes?