150-DAYS TO THE END

POV: CHELSEA

"There is no room for you, Chelsea."

Daniel’s voice was flat, devoid of any warmth, yet it sliced clean through the roar of the storm.

I was on my knees on the metal floor of the overcrowded evacuation boat, my hands raw, slick with rain, and bleeding as I clung to the railing. Black, filthy floodwater surged over the sides, churning violently under the pitch-black sky. Behind us, the city was disappearing beneath the water, skyscrapers swallowed up to their lower floors, streets turned into raging rivers. The boat was taking on water fast, tipping dangerously under the weight of too many desperate bodies.

I held my six-year-old daughter, Lily, pressed against my chest. Her small arms were wrapped around my neck, her whole body shivering violently.

"Daniel, please!" I choked out, my throat burning from the rain and cold. "Pull us up! Take my hand!"

Instead of reaching for me, Daniel reached down and snatched Lily right out of my arms.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Lily’s high, frantic scream ripped through the howling wind as Daniel pulled her toward the dry, upper cabin, the only remaining safe section of the vessel.

"Daniel!" I lunged forward, scrambling on my knees, reaching out with everything I had left.

Daniel stepped into my path, his boot heavy on the wet deck, completely blocking me.

Behind him stood Vicky Lee. She was dry, wrapped in a heavy, insulated jacket, standing inside the sheltered frame of the cabin door. She didn't look panicked. She didn't look like a terrified survivor. She looked at me with calm, satisfied eyes, her hand resting comfortably on my husband's shoulder.

In that single, brutal second, the lie shattered. Vicky had been introduced to me three years ago as Daniel’s brilliant corporate colleague, the work friend who joined us for dinners, the woman he spent late nights at the office with. She had been his lover all along.

"Don't waste your breath, Chelsea," Vicky said, her voice dropping coolly over the sound of the rain. "Daniel knew weeks ago you wouldn't survive the evacuation. He already decided who gets the remaining supplies. And who gets the space."

My heart stopped. I stared at Daniel, waiting for him to deny it, waiting for a flicker of regret on his face. There was nothing. Just cold, tactical calculation. He had planned this. He had brought her here while leaving me to die.

"Mommy! Let me go! Mommy!" Lily screamed, writhing in Daniel's tight grip, reaching her small, trembling hands toward me over his shoulder.

"Be quiet, Lily," Daniel barked, holding our daughter back with cold efficiency.

"Daniel, no! Don't do this!" I begged, my fingers scraping against his leather boot as I reached for my child.

He didn't look down at me. He just planted his boot firmly against my shoulder and shoved.

My grip failed. My feet slipped off the slick deck.

I tumbled backward off the edge into the void.

The freezing, churning water swallowed me instantly. Heavy, polluted floodwater rushed into my nose and mouth, tasting of rust, diesel, and rot. My lungs burned like fire as the current dragged me down into the black abyss. Above me, through the dark, distorted surface, the last thing I saw was Lily’s little face pressed against the glass, crying for me, before the cold current pulled me under for good.

I woke with a violent, ragged gasp.

My chest heaved as I bolted upright in bed, my fingers clawing wildly at my throat, expecting to feel ice-cold river water and sludge filling my lungs.

I coughed hard, my eyes darting frantically around the room.

There was no storm. No roaring flood. No smell of oil and rot.

The bedroom was warm, bathed in the quiet, golden hue of the early morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains. The air conditioner hummed softly in the corner of our  apartment.

I looked down at my hands. They were smooth, warm, and completely dry.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal as I reached out with a trembling hand and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The screen lit up:

JUNE 23, 2026

My breath hitched in my throat.

November 20, 2026, that was the day the sky broke. The day the rain began and never stopped, drowning the world in a relentless, unforgiving deluge.

I calculated the dates in my head, my hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped the phone. June 23 to November 20.

Exactly one hundred and fifty days before the flood.

I wasn't dead. I was back. I was standing in the past, five months before the end of everything.

Before I could even process the shock, a quiet, broken sob echoed from down the hallway.

My blood ran cold.

"Lily," I whispered.

I threw off the duvet, my bare feet slapping against the warm hardwood floor as I ran down the hall. I pushed open her bedroom door, my heart in my mouth.

The room was filled with soft morning light. On the small bed, a tiny figure was curled under the pink blankets, trembling uncontrollably, her face buried in her pillow as soft, agonizing crying filled the room.

"Lily?" My voice cracked.

The crying stopped. The blanket shifted, and Lily peeked out. Her face was pale, her dark eyes wide and red-rimmed with tears, her small chest heaving in short, desperate breaths.

I dropped to my knees beside her bed, reaching out to wrap my arms around her. "Baby, it's okay, Mommy's here…"

Lily didn't lean into my embrace. She sat up, staring straight at me with an expression far too old, far too broken for a six-year-old child.

She reached out with a trembling hand, her tiny, ice-cold fingers touching my cheek, and whispered:

“Mommy… you died in the water.”