The Night Everything Fell Apart
The crystal chandeliers above the ballroom glittered like frozen lightning, scattering shards of light across silk gowns and champagne glasses. Marrin Reeves stood near the grand piano, smiling for the photographer as if her entire life were not about to detonate.
On the surface she looked impeccable — a silver-white evening gown that caught the light like moonwater, hair swept into soft curls, her father's sapphire pendant resting at the hollow of her throat. Inside, a dull unease drummed against her ribs. Something about tonight felt wrong, though she could not name what.
"Breathe," she told herself quietly, lifting her flute of champagne. "You're almost free."
The charity gala had been Derek Hale's idea, as most grand gestures were. Her fiancé was brilliant at spectacle — handsome, charming, heir to Hale Industries. Together they made an enviable pair. Tomorrow the gossip columns would run another glossy spread: The perfect couple—love, power, and philanthropy.
Only Marrin knew perfection was an illusion that cracked the moment you looked too closely.
The evening blurred into a swirl of laughter, applause, and small talk. Then the master of ceremonies tapped the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our generous sponsor, Mr Derek Hale, has prepared a surprise for his beloved fiancée."
Applause followed. Marrin blinked, startled. This hadn't been on the schedule.
Derek ascended the stage, his smile the practiced kind that sold millions in stock. "Before we end this wonderful night," he began, "I'd like to share something personal — a moment of truth."
The crowd hushed, expectant.
Beside him stepped Vivienne Cross. Marrin's best friend since university, dazzling tonight in crimson silk. Marrin's pulse stuttered.
Vivienne took the microphone, voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "We've hidden this for months," she said, eyes glistening. "But we can't lie anymore. I—I'm in love with Derek."
For a heartbeat, no one breathed. Then Derek's hand settled possessively on Vivienne's waist."It's true," he said softly. "I couldn't keep pretending. Marrin deserves honesty."
The words hit like glass shattering inside her chest.
Laughter rippled awkwardly through the guests — the kind born of disbelief — before whispers began to slice through the hall. Marrin's fingers went numb; her champagne flute slipped and shattered on the marble floor.
She wanted to scream, to demand explanation, but the microphones caught every sound. Cameras flashed. Her humiliation became instant spectacle.
Derek stepped toward her, whispering something about "understanding" and "it's better this way." Vivienne avoided her eyes. A thousand rehearsed smiles turned into daggers.
Somehow Marrin managed a nod, a polite half-smile that would later appear in tabloids as Marrin Reeves handles heartbreak with grace. She turned, walking out beneath the strobing light of photographers' bulbs, leaving silver footprints across the marble.
Outside, winter rain had begun to fall. The night air bit at her skin as she hurried to the parking lot, every breath slicing through the ache in her throat. The valet handed her keys with the hesitant pity reserved for public tragedies.
She drove. Headlights carved tunnels through the rain. The city blurred into streaks of gold and crimson. Her mind replayed the scene again and again — Vivienne's trembling confession, Derek's rehearsed sincerity, the gasps.
"After everything," she whispered, voice shaking. "After everything I gave you."
Tears blurred the windshield faster than the wipers could clear. She pressed harder on the accelerator. The engine roared like an animal in pain.
At a red light she caught her reflection in the rear-view mirror: pale, eyes hollow, makeup running like melted porcelain. The woman staring back was someone she no longer recognized.
When the light changed, she didn't notice the black SUV running the intersection until it was too late.
There was a scream — maybe hers, maybe the tires — then metal folded in on itself. The world spun; glass exploded; silence swallowed everything.
She felt the weight of her own body detach, awareness floating above twisted wreckage and the smell of gasoline. Sirens wailed in the distance, distant and fading.
As darkness folded over her, images flickered like film reels: her father teaching her chess; her mother's laugh; Derek's first kiss; the blue sapphire pendant catching light at the gala.
Then a final thought: If only I could do it again.
The darkness wasn't empty. It shimmered, alive with whispers that sounded almost like rain.Marrin Reeves, a voice said — neither male nor female, everywhere and nowhere.Would you change it, if given the chance?
She wanted to answer but her mouth wouldn't move. Only her heart screamed yes.
A pulse of white light burst behind her eyes. Cold became warmth, pain became pressure. She gasped — lungs burning — and the world rushed back with blinding clarity.
Morning sunlight spilled through gauzy curtains. Birds outside sang too cheerfully for the pounding in her head. Marrin sat up, expecting the sterile beep of a hospital monitor. Instead she saw the pale cream wallpaper of her old bedroom — the one she'd moved out of years ago.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Saturday, April 14 — 8:07 a.m.
April 14. Her mind froze. The gala had been in December — two years after that date.
Hands trembling, she flipped open the phone case. The wallpaper was a photo she'd long since deleted: her and Vivienne, both laughing in the sun.
"No," Marrin whispered. "This can't be real."
But the reflection in the mirror showed a younger face, untouched by heartbreak. The sapphire pendant lay neatly on the vanity, waiting.
Outside her room, a familiar voice called — her father's, alive again."Marrin, breakfast's getting cold!"
Her breath hitched. She stumbled to the door, gripping the frame as the truth solidified.
She wasn't dead. She wasn't dreaming.
She'd been sent back.
And this time, no one would see her fall.