The Day My Daughter Fell

The shrill ring of the phone yanked me back to reality.

I stared at the screen, feeling a cold dread creeping over me as I realized the call was from the property management. My mind raced—this was the call informing me that my daughter had fallen from the building.

I grabbed the phone and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding in my chest. When I saw her lying in a pool of blood, I froze. In her tiny hand, she still clutched her favorite bunny doll.

It was all exactly like the last time.

In my previous life, I had been washing her clothes in the bathroom while she played in her room. Then came the phone call—the one that told me she had fallen and died.

I rushed out of the bathroom, my heart in my throat, and found her room empty. The window was wide open.

I ran downstairs frantically, not even realizing I had lost one of my slippers. When I saw her body, my world crumbled. I burst into tears and screamed like a mad woman.

I didn't understand. I was so sure I had closed the window. How was it open?

Just then, my husband Cody Yates rushed in. He pushed through the crowd that had gathered around me. Without a word, he slapped me hard across the face.

"Jasmine Zephyr, are you out of your mind? How could you throw our daughter out of the window? She's only three! No matter how much we fight, you shouldn't have done this to our daughter. What are you even trying to prove with this act?"

Cody's eyes were red, and his face was streaked with tears as he yelled at me.

The people around me didn't know what to say to a mother who had lost her child. They wiped away their tears quietly as they watched the scene unfold.

But after hearing my husband's words, the area erupted in a mix of voices.

"Wait, what? She threw the child out of the window? How could she be so heartless?"

"What kind of mother does that?"

"Call the police! They need to arrest her!"

Things were unfolding just as they had in my previous life. I slowly raised my head and looked into Cody's eyes.

"Where did you come from?"

Cody blinked in surprise at my question.

The people around me were shocked by my cold reaction. I actually had the nerve to ask where my husband had come from. They couldn't stop whispering and pointing at me, some even holding up their phones to snap pictures.

Soon after, the police took us to the station, and the coroner prepared to examine my daughter's body.

I stared at the scene before me, my mind going blank.

My sweet, precious daughter.

She was lying there now, motionless.

She used to call me "Mommy" all the time. She was always so obedient, never crying or causing a fuss. She was easy to take care of. While I did the housework, she would entertain herself quietly, playing alone in her room.

That was why I left her alone in the room.

In my previous life, I kept insisting I had closed the window. A three-year-old didn't have the strength to unlock a window and jump out.

I couldn't explain how that could have happened.

In the end, there wasn't enough evidence to charge me with murder, but that didn't stop the internet from branding me as the "evil mom."

I was torn apart by online trolls. They altered my pictures, turning them into memorial photos, and some people even threw rotten vegetables and eggs at me.

And Cody, the man who once said he loved me? He went live, publicly accusing me of being insane. He claimed I used our daughter to manipulate him, that whenever we argued, I would threaten to kill her and then kill myself.

Losing my daughter had already left me shattered, but I never expected the man who once claimed to love me to fan the flames of public outrage and turn the masses against me.

I knelt before him, begging him to believe me, to understand that I hadn't thrown our daughter out that window. My voice cracked as I asked why he would fabricate such a monstrous lie.

But my pleas only fueled another wave of online hysteria.

His carefully crafted image as the devoted, long-suffering husband worked its magic. People who knew us stepped forward to defend him, praising his patience with my supposed temper and his endless tolerance of my so-called flaws.

Even my best friend, Yvonne Smith, went live on her social media. She told everyone I had once confided in her that if Cody didn't behave, I would throw our daughter out of the window to make him regret it for the rest of his life.

I was paralyzed with disbelief, unable to defend myself against such betrayal.

And the comments online only got worse.

[If even her husband and best friend say she's like this, how could it not be true?]

[She's pure evil. She killed her own daughter. Someone like her deserves to die!]

[Why isn't there enough evidence to put her in jail? How could someone like her escape justice? It's so unfair!]

With my husband and best friend's accusations spreading like wildfire, the internet was flooded with hateful messages. I couldn't leave my house—not even to grab a meal, as no restaurant owner would serve me.

In the depths of my agony, I went live on social media. I stood on the roof, hoping to clear my name. But the comments poured in relentlessly, urging me to jump.

The final thread of my sanity snapped, and I leaped.

In those final moments, I couldn't comprehend how the two people I once trusted most could harbor such hatred for me.

Together, they had sent me crashing into the abyss.