A Fateful Call from My Future Husband

In the chaotic aftermath of a devastating earthquake, I frantically tore through the rubble in search of my missing daughter. Amidst the panic, my phone rang. To my shock, it was my husband calling me from five years in the future. "Valerie, you have to listen to me carefully," Brent Serrano said. "I am the only one who can save the girl." Without a single shred of doubt, I directed the rescue team straight to the coordinates he detailed. Within minutes of digging, the faint, muffled cries of a child echoed from beneath the heavy concrete slabs. Overjoyed, I sobbed into the receiver, "Thank God, Brent! I found her!" On the other end of the line, Brent let out a soft, distant chuckle. "Good. I'm finally fixing my greatest regret." But when the rescue crew hoisted the massive wall of concrete, the one they pulled from the debris wasn't our daughter. It was Zoe—the daughter of his late best friend's widow, whom Brent had taken under his care. As I stood frozen in horror, he breathed a sigh of relief across the timeline. "In my timeline, Madelin was shattered when Zoe died in this disaster. She had no one left but me, and that was the night we finally crossed the line and fell into each other's arms. "I'm sorry, Valerie. I had to use this call to rewrite history for Madelin. Our daughter is trapped on the opposite side of the mall. Hurry, you can still save her." By the time I raced to the other end of the ruins, Brent's voice returned, brimming with smug pride. "See? Told you she'd be here." I lost my voice, staring down at Juliet's cold, lifeless body. Numb with a grief that swallowed the world, I hung up the phone. Chapter 1 I had just managed to pull Juliet's lifeless body from the smoking rubble when Brent Serrano and Madelin Fleming finally arrived, breathless and frantic. Shocked, Brent reached out toward me, but before his fingers could even brush my shoulder, I swung my arm back and slapped him hard across the face. Madelin quickly stepped in to steady him, her voice thick with feigned guilt. "This is all my fault, Valerie. Please don't blame Brent." "It's not your fault." Brent waved her concerns away, looking down at me with heavy sadness. "I got here too late. It's only natural that she's lashing out at me." But even as the apology left his lips, his body acted on pure muscle memory. He shielded Madelin and her daughter behind his broad shoulders. He had done it a thousand times before. Except this time, it wasn't over a trivial playground squabble about Juliet sharing her toys, nor was it about Madelin overstaying her welcome in our guest room. This time, my daughter died. Ignoring them, I kept wiping the dust and grime from Juliet's pale face, but no matter how hard I tried, her skin refused to come clean. My heart felt as if it were being hacked to pieces by a dull, rusted knife. Just yesterday, right before she walked into her after-school tutoring class, Juliet had looked up at me with bright, hopeful eyes. "I'm not sure if Dad is going to skip your birthday again, but I'll save up my allowance to buy a cake," she said. "We can celebrate together." We had waited the entire day for Brent to come home, never imagining that he was spending the weekend playing the doting family man at an amusement park with Madelin and Zoe. I had still been holding out hope for that birthday cake. Now, my little girl was never going to wake up. "Juliet is already gone," Brent said with a frown. "You need to pull yourself together so we can lay her to rest." He reached down, attempting to pry Juliet from my arms. "Hands off her!" I rasped. As we pulled against each other, Juliet's tightly clenched fist slipped open. A small daisy enamel pin escaped her fingers, clattering against the concrete debris. Both Brent and I froze. It was the birthday gift he had given Juliet when she turned five—the very last present she had received from him. Everything had shifted the moment Madelin and Zoe moved into our orbit. Just to coddle their fragile egos and ensure they never felt like outsiders, Brent had forced Juliet to play the role of the older sister, demanding she yield every boundary to Zoe—even though Juliet was actually five months younger. He stopped buying her gifts, skipped every single one of her parent-teacher conferences, and openly held Zoe's hand whenever they walked in public. Yet, despite the systematic neglect, Juliet still loved him fiercely. She might have sulked and spoken in anger, but as she lay suffocating under the collapsed walls, she had kept holding her breath, waiting for her dad to come save her. "Brent, how could you do this to your own blood?" I choked out. He pulled his gaze away from the daisy pin, his jaw tightening defensively. "I didn't want this disaster to happen any more than you did. What good does pointing fingers do now?" Sensing the tension rising between us again, Madelin took a tentative step forward. I snapped my head up, glaring at her so intensely that she recoiled. "Valerie, stop trying to shift the blame onto innocent people," Brent said, his voice dropping to a freezing register. "This has nothing to do with Madelin. Weren't you the one who led the rescue team to the wrong side of the plaza? That's the only reason they couldn't reach Juliet in time." I stared up at him in utter, paralyzing disbelief, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. He had no idea that it was his future self who had called and misled me. Just as I was about to scream the monstrous truth in his face, Madelin let out a piercing shriek from behind him. "Brent, come over! Zoe's leg is bleeding!" Brent instantly let go of my arm and spun around, his face twisting with unvarnished panic. "The living take priority right now," he muttered over his shoulder. "I need to tend to Zoe. Go handle the intake paperwork. I'll find you later." The words died in my throat as I watched him sprint away. Swallowing the bitterness, I carried Juliet to the casualty registration desk alone. The clerk took one look at her small, pale form and let out a long sigh. "Please fill out the victim's details, ma'am. We will handle the arrangements for a collective state burial." I picked up the pen with a heavy heart. In the Immediate Family column, I wrote only my name. Hours later, as I sat hollowly on a bench outside the hospital's sterile disinfection unit, I mindlessly unlocked my phone. A notification popped up; it was Madelin's latest social media post. The image featured Brent crouching on the ground, carefully treating a minor scrape on Zoe's shin. The caption read: [So grateful that you're both safe.] They looked every bit like a picture-perfect, loving family. I smiled bitterly, ready to block them both, when my phone began to vibrate. The screen lit up, displaying another call from the future Brent. Chapter 2 The future Brent's chuckle came through the line. "Zoe made it out safely, right? Madelin must be thrilled." My voice was barely a whisper. "Juliet is dead. Because you led me to save Zoe instead." The line went silent, but then Brent let out a dismissive laugh. "How is that possible? In my timeline, Juliet is currently locked away in a behavioral reform facility. If anything happened, the wardens would have called me." A shiver ran down my spine. "What did you just say? Why on earth would you put her in a place like that?" "Because you spoiled her rotten," he said indifferently. "She grew up fighting with Madelin constantly, becoming rebellious and vicious. But since you saved Zoe, I'll consider pulling her out this month." Terrified that altering the present might inadvertently worsen my daughter's future fate, I swallowed my pride and begged, "Can you go get her now?" He gave a low, patronizing hum. "That depends on your performance." The implicit threat in his voice cut through the static. Sure enough, his very next words stripped away any remaining illusion of safety. "If you don't behave, I might just stop covering your parents' medical bills." "What?" "Oh, you don't know yet, do you? Your dad had a heart attack after he found out I was cheating. Your mom is a vegetable because Madelin hit her with a car. So, don't make a scene, or things will end up just like that." I lost my mind, screaming into the receiver. "You're a monster! If you don't love me, why won't you just divorce me?" He listened to my hysterical breakdown with a terrifying calm. "If I had heard you say those words five years ago, it would have broken my heart. Now? I feel nothing." He hung up the phone, and I collapsed onto the floor, feeling completely powerless in the face of a predatory future. The only thing I could do now was protect my parents. That same night, I bought two emergency plane tickets and sent them back to our hometown. Once they were safely in the air, I texted Brent: [Let's set a time to finalize the divorce.] At first, he ignored the message entirely, assuming it was just another tantrum. But the moment I sent over the formal paperwork, he finally came to find me—only to tear the divorce agreement to shreds right in front of me. "What kind of sick joke is this?" he snarled, throwing the shredded remnants into my face. "You want to throw our marriage away just because I stepped up to care for a late friend's grieving widow? Is a living person not more important than your petty, jealous grudges?" I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "You're right. I do hold a grudge. I hate Madelin, and I despise you." His eyes flickered with profound disappointment. "When did you become so unreasonable? I should have never saved you back in high school." My tear ducts had dried up hours ago, but those words cut deep, making my eyes sting again. Back in high school, when a group of thugs cornered me in an alley, Brent charged in with an iron rod to fight them off. And later, when the trauma left me suicidal, he had cupped my face in his palms, swearing, "That doesn't change a thing. I will love you forever." He never once complained about my insecurities. Every day, he left me love notes and small surprises. But after Madelin appeared, the notes stopped, and all his patience went to her. Now, one call from her was enough to calm his anger. "I'm not divorcing you. Calm down by yourself," he said before leaving again. Soon after, the future Brent called again. Before he could speak, I said sarcastically, "Your past self just told me he regretted saving me back in high school." The line remained silent for a few heavy seconds. Then, his voice came through, as gentle as always. "Don't listen to him. Whether he regrets it or not, I would still make the same choice to save you. "After all, Madelin hired those thugs to teach you a lesson. I stepped in because I couldn't let her commit a real crime." With the revelation, a crushing pain squeezed my heart. Everything finally made sense. It wasn't a sudden change of heart; I was never the love of his life—just an obstacle in his and Madelin's love story. Nearly ten years of his supposed devotion had been nothing but a lie. Chapter 3 "Don't be upset. Five years from now, we're still together," added the future Brent, sounding as if his continued presence in my life were a divine act of charity. Disgusted, I immediately hung up the phone. A sharp ache twisted in my abdomen, but my mind was too numb to care. I just wanted to go home. The moment I pushed the front door open, the warm light in the living room stung my eyes. Brent emerged from the kitchen carrying the final dish. "You're finally back," he said flatly. "Wash your hands and eat. Stop throwing these tantrums." Madelin pouted at him. "What happened between you two?" His tone softened immediately. "Aren't you always so curious?" Watching their interaction no longer hurt me the way it once had. I walked right past him and headed straight toward the bedroom. He must have sensed the shift, reaching out to me, but Madelin laid her hand over his arm, pulling his attention away. I closed the bedroom door, my eyes settling on a small ceramic urn on the nightstand. It held Juliet's ashes—my last anchor in this world. I had just picked it up when the door swung open. Zoe peered inside. "Valerie, aren't you coming out to eat?" I didn't say a word, turning to walk past her. But when Zoe saw what I was holding, she burst into tears and lunged for it. "Where are you taking Juliet? She is my sister!" Hearing the crying, Madelin booted the door open and rushed in. "Valerie, if you have a problem, take it out on me. Leave my daughter alone!" She yanked Zoe back, tearing the urn right out of my hands. It slipped from her grip and shattered against the floor. The whirring ceiling fan caught the grey dust, scattering the remains of my little girl across the entire room. My last tether to this world was torn away. Pure hatred flooded my mind. I raised my hand to slap Madelin, but before my palm could land, Brent grabbed my wrist and threw me aside. "Enough!" he snapped. "There's a child here! Stop acting like a lunatic!" I stumbled backward, grasping at empty air to find my footing. As I spun out of control, I caught the cold stare of everyone in the room. In an instant, all my desire to fight evaporated. My back slammed into the staircase, and I tumbled down to the first floor. A blinding pain exploded across my abdomen, blurring Brent's furious face above me. Right before blacking out, I thought I saw his expression warp into sudden horror. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a hospital bed. Brent sat beside me, the dark circles under his eyes prominent. "You were one month pregnant. You miscarried," he muttered, not daring to meet my eyes. I felt entirely detached, as if listening to a stranger's life. He took my hand and pressed it against his forehead. "I'm so sorry. Whatever compensation you want, just say the word." My breathing was shallow. "Just let me go." He shook his head. "No, you can't leave this room right now. There's a lot of controversy online about the rescue. It's bad for you, bad for Madelin, and bad for my company's image. Once things calm down, I'll let you out." "What are they saying?" I asked. He sighed. "They think Madelin manipulated you into saving Zoe instead of Juliet." I let out a dry laugh. "She didn't." Brent squeezed my hand, his voice laced with sweet persuasion. "I knew you wouldn't be that reckless. Can you do Madelin and me a favor? Just issue a public statement to clear the air." I looked straight into his eyes, feeling nothing but pity for Juliet. "No. Because you were the one who told me to save Zoe." Chapter 4 Brent jerked his hand back as if burned. "What are you talking about? That's impossible. I wasn't even at the site." "It was you from five years in the future," I revealed. Brent let out a mocking laugh. "Come on, even if you don't want to take responsibility for what happened, you don't need to invent such a ridiculous lie." I gave a hollow smile. "If it really was you who caused Juliet's death, what would you do?" He looked me straight in the eyes, making sure I heard every syllable. "I would never do that." I looked away at a withered tree outside the window. "I wish that were true." Brent kept me locked inside that hospital room. Unless I agreed to clear Madelin's name, I wasn't allowed to leave. I tried to resist. But when I went on a hunger strike, Brent had nurses force a feeding tube down my throat. When I tried to speak out online, he cut off my communication with my parents. The surveillance camera in the corner blinked day and night, its red light glaring at me like a malevolent eye. If I showed any abnormal behavior, guards would burst in within three minutes to strap me down. My breathing grew increasingly shallow as hallucinations began to blur my vision. In them, I saw myself five years later, living a life worse than death. An electric shock collar was locked around my throat, and the remote was in Madelin's hand. Whenever she was displeased, she would press the button to torture me. Brent would only stand by, watching my convulsions with icy detachment. "Take it easy. Don't actually kill her." The nightmares finally broke me down, driving me to call the future Brent. The line remained quiet for several heavy seconds before his low voice came through. "Those aren't hallucinations. They're real. You kept trying to run away, leaving me no choice. "That's why I don't care if your current self knows everything. You can't escape anyway." I collapsed on the bed, clawing at my neck until it was bloody and raw. With a breaking voice, I asked one final question. "Does the current Brent know about you?" Hearing the sob in my throat, he softened his tone. "He does. My timeline can only bridge the two of you. His decision to lock you away? That was my direct order." My world turned upside down. I didn't know how I survived that night, but the next morning, when Brent came to check on me, I forced a smile. "I'll clear Madelin's name. I'll tell them it was all my fault—that I panicked and failed to save our daughter." Brent's eyebrows raised in surprise, but he had no reason to refuse. He even hired a makeup artist to help me look presentable. When the artist reached toward my neck, I blocked her hand. "Just leave it." I pulled my collar up to hide the bloody scratches. When the light makeup was finished, Brent leaned against the doorframe, his eyes brightening. "Once this is cleared up, I won't let Madelin appear in front of you again," he said. "I'll take you to Iceland, just like you've always wanted." I managed a hollow smile, knowing he had taken Madelin and Zoe to Iceland last year. His offer now was just cheap bait to keep me on the leash. In front of the camera, I recited the script, taking all the blame upon myself. Satisfied, Brent grabbed the tape and rushed off to show it to Madelin. The makeup artist slid me a wipe and a tube of skin-repair ointment. "Stay strong, ma'am. They're holding a candlelight vigil down at the plaza perimeter tonight." I looked up at her in stunned silence, then slowly nodded. That was the only reason I had agreed to Brent's terms. I bought some candles and went back to the collapsed mall. Lighting the candles, I murmured, "I had no choice. This is the only way I can say goodbye to you. Find better parents." ... That same day, overwhelming waves of abuse flooded the internet, all aimed at me. I had finally regained my freedom, but the moment I stepped outside, strangers would curse me to my face. While Brent was distracted by the online victory, I bought the earliest high-speed train ticket, put on a mask, and boarded the train. Seeing the public backlash completely reverse, Brent finally relaxed. When his future self called again, he answered with triumphant confidence. Instead of praise, a furious roar exploded from the receiver. "What the hell did you do over there? Why can't I find Valerie anywhere in my timeline?" Brent froze. "What do you mean? You said this was the only way to keep her by my side forever?"