The Day My Daughter Fell

"How could a child have opened the window?" The officer asked me, his voice sharp.

"That's what I'm wondering. I believe there was someone else in the house that day," I replied. "I need a full investigation into this, for my daughter's sake."

The officer's expression hardened, and he nodded gravely. "According to protocol, before we can continue our investigation, we have to hold you for 48 hours."

My nails dug into the palms of my hands. I forced myself to stay calm and think this through.

By this time in my previous life, my personal information had already been plastered across the internet.

The entire online world buzzed with heated discussions about the case.

As expected, the overwhelming majority were condemning me, their words sharp and merciless.

Meanwhile, my so-called best friend stood before the media with tears streaming down her face, putting on a show for the cameras.

"I'm Jasmine's best friend, and I've known her for over a decade," she sobbed, her voice quivering. "We've been friends since middle school. We've been there for each other through everything. I watched her get married, and I thought she was happy. I never imagined something like this could happen.

"She always asked me to keep things quiet, but she would say... awful things sometimes.

"Last time, she told me she wanted to throw Phoebe out of the window after an argument with Cody. She said it would hurt him and make him feel the pain of losing their daughter. I thought she was just venting, so I tried to calm her down. I never thought she would actually do it.

"Oh, Phoebe... that sweet three-year-old. She was so young, so sweet. Every time she saw me, she would call me 'Aunt Yvonne' in the most adorable way."

Yvonne's tear-filled eyes looked up at the cameras, her words carefully crafted to paint me as a monster. She and Cody were working together, and their coordinated story set the internet on fire.

Cody took a different approach. He went live and sobbed uncontrollably.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have gone on that business trip. I left Phoebe with Jasmine. I wanted to give Phoebe the best life possible, so I worked so hard to provide. But in doing that, I neglected my wife. We had problems we didn't fix, and that led to this tragic end."

His voice broke as he spoke about the news of his daughter's death, his anguish spilling over in raw, unfiltered pain. In a shocking display of self-reproach, he slapped his own face—hard—again and again, the force of it leaving his cheeks swollen and bright red with handprints.

His emotional breakdown was so intense that it struck a chord with viewers across the country. The livestream was flooded with support, virtual gifts pouring in as viewers sent words of encouragement through the chat.

[That woman is pure evil. I saw the video of her after her daughter's death—her expression was so cold.]

[How could such a good man end up with someone like that? Now, his child is gone... it's just so tragic, so unfair.]

[She must be locked up. Anyone who could kill their own flesh and blood is nothing but an animal!]

The livestreams, social media platforms, and news outlets were saturated with coverage of the incident. Everywhere I turned, I was met with an onslaught of insults and curses hurled at me. There was no escape, no reprieve.

But this time, I didn't crumble.

In my past life, Yvonne and Cody's accusations and fabricated stories had left me devastated, hopeless, and drowning in public condemnation. With nowhere to turn, I had borne the weight of every hateful word and attack.

This time, I was waiting for my chance to confront them and expose the truth.

After 48 hours, I was released from the police station and took a cab back to my apartment complex.

The place was crawling with reporters, cameras, and curious onlookers. Some had even been camped out, waiting for me. As soon as I arrived, their phones and cameras turned toward me in unison.

Yvonne was the first to rush over, grabbing my hand.

"Jasmine, you have to explain yourself! Did you really push Phoebe out the window? You didn't do it, right?"

I looked at her with cold detachment. She acted like she was trying to comfort me, but I could see through her—she was using my daughter's death to provoke me, hoping to see me break down and lose control.

I pulled my hand away sharply.

"According to the coroner's report, Phoebe's injuries are consistent with a fall from a high place. She died from falling."

Yvonne raised her voice dramatically, pretending to be shocked. "Jasmine, you were the only one with her at the time. How could you let her fall?"

Cody stepped in, grabbing my arm and shaking me roughly.

"How... how could you do this?" His voice was trembling with emotion. "She was so young and so good. What did she ever do to you?

"I took care of her from the moment she was born. I fed her, changed her, and soothed her to sleep. I did all of those things every day. I watched her grow up, and now you... you killed her. How could you do that? How could you be cruel?"

He kept questioning me, and his eyes were red from crying. Finally, he fell to his knees.

I looked at him with an indifferent expression, then said, "She didn't do anything wrong. She was good, obedient, and sweet. Just recently, on Mother's Day, she made me a drawing and hugged me, wishing me a happy Mother's Day."

As I spoke these words calmly, the crowd grew angrier, calling me cold-hearted and heartless.

"Then why did you kill her?" A voice shouted from the crowd, echoing through the mob.

Suddenly, bottles of water and food wrappers were thrown at me. People yelled at me, calling me a monster and a demon. Some raised their fists, ready to strike me down as if they were the righteous avengers.

Yvonne and Cody seemed pleased with the scene, and they cried even harder.