Chapter 2: Mommy?

The first thing I heard was crying—a child's soft, desperate crying. Then it grew louder, accompanied by tiny hiccups that made my head ache.

I slowly opened my eyes to a blue, clear, and bright sky. I blinked several times, trying to remember where I was. The last thing I remembered was falling, Liam screaming my name, and the ground disappearing beneath my feet before darkness swallowed me whole.

But there was no pain.

I lifted my head and froze. The forest was gone. Instead, I was lying on a patch of grass beside what looked like a small neighborhood park. My heart began beating faster. Where was the school? Where was Liam?

"You're awake."

I turned toward the voice. A little girl stood beside me, no more than six or seven years old. She had long brown hair, pale skin, and enormous eyes filled with tears, wearing a pink dress beneath a small white cardigan. The moment our eyes met, her face brightened.

"Mommy!" Before I could react, she ran toward me and wrapped both arms around my waist.

"Wait..." I stiffened as she buried her face against my stomach. "Who are you?"

The girl pulled away, her expression shifting instantly from delight to confusion, fear, and utter heartbreak. "Mommy?"

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, backing away. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I'm not your mommy."

"Yes, you are," her lower lip trembled as she shook her head.

I looked around, expecting an adult to step in. "Where are your parents?"

"You are my mommy."

"No, I'm not."

The girl began crying again—not out of a tantrum, but with genuine terror. "Mommy, you promised! You promised that you wouldn't leave me!"

My chest tightened. "Promised what? I don't even know you."

She grabbed my hand, her tiny fingers warm against mine. "Please don't leave me again."

Again? What did she mean by again?

I crouched down to her level. "What's your name?"

"Charlotte," she sniffed. "Charlotte Montgomery."

The surname made me pause. Montgomery. It sounded vaguely familiar, but before I could piece it together, a woman in her forties hurried toward us.

"Charlotte!" The woman looked relieved as the girl ran to her. "Oh my God, I've been looking everywhere for you." Then, her eyes fell on me, and her expression completely changed. "Mrs. Montgomery?"

My stomach dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You're Mrs. Montgomery," the woman said, looking thoroughly confused.

"No," I stood up immediately. "I'm Abigail Hart."

The woman stared at me as if I had spoken in a foreign language, then looked down at Charlotte. "Sweetheart, did your mother hurt you? Did she take you somewhere?"

"She found me," Charlotte replied.

"Mrs. Montgomery, perhaps you should go home," the woman suggested with growing concern.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I've never seen this child before!"

As Charlotte burst into tears again, shouting "Mommy!", I backed away. Something was terribly wrong. I needed to call Liam.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. The screen lit up, showing no messages, no missed calls, and no signal. But what caught my eye was the date. My fingers trembled as I blinked at the numbers.

"No..."

The year was completely wrong.

"What year is it?" I demanded, staring at the woman.

She frowned. "Twenty thirty-six."

The phone slipped from my hand, thudding onto the grass. I couldn't breathe. Twenty thirty-six. I had fallen into that hole in twenty twenty-six. Ten years. Ten whole years had passed.

"No," I shook my head violently. "No, that's impossible! I'm twenty years old!"

"What?" The woman looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"Mommy, you're hurt," Charlotte suddenly pointed at my face.

I touched my cheek, feeling no blood. "No. I need a mirror."

Without waiting for an answer, I bolted toward the nearby community center. My heart pounded against my ribs. This couldn't be real. I was dreaming. I hit my head. I was still unconscious in the woods.

I shoved the bathroom door open and looked into the mirror—and screamed.

The woman staring back was me, yet not me. Her eyes, nose, and lips were the same, but the young girl I knew was gone. The woman in the glass looked older, mature, with subtle lines around her eyes carved by time.

I touched my face, and the reflection mirrored my exact movement.

"No..." My voice broke. "That's not me."

But it was. My face, just ten years older. My knees buckled as I stumbled backward.

Charlotte appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with concern. "Mommy?"

When I turned to her, she walked over and took my hand, wrapping her small fingers around mine as if she had done it a thousand times before. "I told you. You're my mommy."

I stared at her, terrified. "Who... who is your daddy?"

"Daddy."

"What's his name?"

She tilted her head, looking surprised by the question. "Liam."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"Liam Montgomery."

The world tilted beneath my feet, forcing me to grip the edge of the sink. Liam? My Liam? My best friend who had chased me into the woods? The boy whose voice was the last thing I heard before darkness took me?

There was no way. Liam couldn't have a daughter—not with me, not when we were barely twenty moments ago.

Charlotte tugged on my hand. "Can we call Daddy?"

Before I could answer, she raised her wrist and tapped the screen of a sleek smartwatch. Almost instantly, a man's voice came through the speaker—deep, calm, and painfully familiar.

"Charlotte?"

"Daddy!" Charlotte smiled.

"Where are you?"

"I'm with Mommy."

There was a heavy pause on the line before his tone shifted. "Is Mommy bullying you?"

"No," Charlotte giggled.

"Did she hit someone?"

"No."

"Did she take you somewhere without telling me?"

Charlotte looked up at me and nodded into the watch. "Yes."

The man sighed, an exasperated edge to his voice. "Of course she did."

I stared at the watch, my chest heaving.

"Come and get us, Daddy," Charlotte said cheerfully before the call ended. She looked up at me happily. "Daddy is coming."

The blood drained completely from my face. Ten years had passed. I was somehow thirty years old, I had a child, and according to that child, my husband was Liam Montgomery.