We Both Came Back For Revenge

The day I went with my mother to pay our respects at her friends funeral was the day I ran into my grown-up self.

I was only eight, but there she was, standing in the gray, damp chill of the alleyway behind the chapel. I stared at her, my heart hammering against my ribs, and began pepper-spraying her with questions about the future.

"Did we finally pay off all the family debts? Does Dad still have to work out of state?"

"Is Mom not having to work so hard anymore?"

"What about me? Did I grow up okay? Did I get into the college of my dreams?"

The older version of me didn't smile. Instead, a sudden, violent fury flashed across her face, tightening her jaw.

"That man doesn't deserve to be called a father," she spat, her voice a harsh, low whisper.

"You and Mom have been completely blind. He never owed a dime to his company. He was living across the state, playing cozy family with his mistress while she carried his baby. Every time he called us, that woman was right there next to him, whispering and laughing in the background."

"And we were the fools, working ourselves to the bone to send him money, funding their happy little family of three while we waited by the door like loyal dogs."

"When the truth finally broke, it destroyed Mom. She died of a broken heart. And youyou worked yourself to death trying to pick up the pieces, leaving yourself with a terminal illness and less than six months to live. You have to wake Mom up, Sadie. You have to save her before its too late."

The words cut off sharply, leaving a ringing silence in the narrow brick alley.

I stood frozen, staring at the woman who possessed my exact eyes, my exact features. My mind scrambled for footing, and my voice cracked as I tried to push back against her words.

"Thats not true. He wouldnt."

For as long as I could remember, Dad had been the anchor of our home. He was the one who took care of everything. He cooked elaborate, three-course dinners from scratch every single night, never repeating a recipe. He hand-washed Moms delicate clothing. He was like Santa Claus, always pulling little surprise gifts and trinkets out of his coat pockets to make us laugh.

Then, two years ago, the nightmare started. Dad was supposedly framed by a colleague, leaving him with a massive corporate debt. To pay it off, he had to take a grueling, low-paying relocation assignment in a remote town halfway across the country.

Before he left, terrified that Mom and I would struggle, he sold his condothe only property in his nameand transferred every single dollar of the sale into Moms bank account.

How could a man like that have another family?

I opened my mouth to demand answers, but a soft, familiar voice drifted from behind me.

"Sadie, sweetheart? Why are you standing out here by yourself?"

"The service is about to start. We should get inside."

I grabbed Mom's hand, my fingers icy, and refused to budge.

"Mom, I just saw someone. She looked exactly like me, but older. She said Dad is lying to us. She said"

Before I could finish, Mom looked toward the end of the alley where I was pointing.

It was completely empty. The grey afternoon mist had swallowed any trace of another person.

Mom sighed, a look of profound pity washing over her face as she reached down to stroke my hair.

"Oh, Sadie. Are you missing your father that much? Youre starting to see things."

"Anyone in this world might lie to me, sweetheart, but never your father. You can rest easy on that. He even called this morning just to make sure our drive was safe. Don't let your imagination run wild."

A warm, gentle smile spread across Moms face. But as I stared at her, a tiny chill prickled the back of my neck. Her smile was beautiful, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

I fell silent. Deep down, I wanted to believe she was right. They had known each other since they were teenagers, loving each other for nearly two-thirds of their lives. How could I doubt my own father just because of a stranger claiming to be my future self?

"Yeah. You're right, Mom," I muttered, squeezing her hand. "Let's go. We need to be there for Aunt Evelyn."

Within minutes, the strange encounter in the alley was pushed to the back of my mind.

But that night, after the funeral service had ended and we had checked into our hotel room, Dads FaceTime call came through.

His face appeared on the screen, looking as exhausted as always, though he managed to force a warm smile.

"How are you guys holding up? Is Evelyn okay? I know she was my friend, but it means the world that you went in my place. Thank you both so much for making the trip."

Mom smiled, her voice light with a teasing edge. "Why so polite all of a sudden, Daniel? Don't tell me you've got a guilty conscience."

For some reason, her words hung in the air, heavy with a double meaning I couldn't quite grasp. But she quickly changed the subject.

"Anyway, when are you coming home? Next month is Sadie's birthday. She really misses you."

Hearing this, Dad let out a long, heavy sigh through the speaker.

"I'm still buried under this debt, Claire. The company keeps me on a tight leash; they're terrified I'll run if they let me take time off. But don't worry, Ill find a way to make it back for her birthday. I won't disappoint her. Just make sure you two take care of yourselves."

Mom handed the phone over to me.

I chatted with him for a minute, telling him to stay safe, just like I did every week. But right as I was about to say goodbye, a woman's voice cut through the background, clear and intimate.

"Dan, can you grab me a towel, would you?"

Dads screen shook violently.

My breath caught. My fingers went completely numb, the phone slipping from my hand as I abruptly ended the call.

"What's wrong, Sadie?" Mom asked, looking up from her book with a puzzled frown.

My mind was a complete blank. A wild, desperate urge rose in my chest to tell her exactly what I had just heard. But I had no proof. She would never believe a child's ears over her husband of twelve years.

I forced a tight nod, trying to steady my breathing. "Nothing, Mom. I'm just really tired. Can we turn off the lights?"

Mom switched off the lamp and climbed into bed, wrapping her arm around me. But as she slept, I lay wide awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

The next morning, I made up an excuse about wanting to play in the courtyard and slipped back to the alleyway.

Sure enough, she was there, waiting. Her expression was hollow, as if she already knew.

"Now you believe me," she said quietly.

I didn't answer. I just leaned my head against the cold brick wall, my chest aching. It took a long time before I could find my voice.

"What do I have to do to help Mom?"

She stepped closer, placing a gentle, sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "You're only eight, Sadie. You shouldn't have to carry this weight. But I'm out of options. You have to get Mom's phone. We need evidence. We need to show her the truth."

When I returned to the hotel at noon, I sat silently at the table, picking at my lunch.

Mom noticed my quietness and reached across the table to touch my hand. "What's wrong, sweetie? Is it too boring here? Aunt Evelyn is going through a terrible tragedy, and we need to stay and support her. Just two more days, okay?"

I nodded quietly. "Mom, can I play a game on your phone?"

As expected, she didn't hesitate. She unlocked her phone and handed it to me.

Once I had it in my hands, I slid onto the hotel bed and opened Dad's Instagram profile. It was completely emptythe settings were locked to only show posts from the last three days.

Next, I opened her TikTok.

In their direct messages, Moms side of the conversation was a vibrant, endless stream of photos and videos of our daily life. Dads replies, however, were cold, one-word text messages.

Okay.

Nice.

Sure.

My fingers trembled as I navigated back to his main profile. I searched through his page but found nothing out of the ordinary. Just as I was about to give up, I tapped on his "Profile Views" history.

There, among the list of users, was a profile picture that made my blood run cold.

It was an image I had seen once before, tucked away in the hidden leather compartment of Dads glove box.

The day I had accidentally discovered it, Dad had panicked, snatching it away before quickly masking his fear with a warm smile. He had knelt down and held my shoulders.

"Sadie, what did you see?"

I had told him the truth, and he had remained quiet for a long time before speaking.

"Thats just a photo from a very important friend of mine, so Daddy keeps it safe. You have good friends at school who give you gifts, right? Don't you keep them safe too?"

I hadn't understood what he meant back then, so I had simply nodded. But that night, Mom and Dad had a massive, screaming fight over that photo. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother cry so bitterly.

"Daniel, are you still not over her? Have you ever thought about how this affects me and our daughter?"

Dad had dropped to his knees, clutching her hands. "Claire, I swear you're overthinking this. There is nothing going on. I cut things off with her years ago. It's just you and Sadie now. Please, let's just live our lives. Sadie is still so youngyou don't want this to affect her, do you?"

Mom had eventually yielded, letting him pull her into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Claire. I promise I will never do anything to make you doubt me again."

Mom had stayed quiet for a long time, staring into the dark. "Is it really over?" she had whispered, almost to herself.

Remembering that night, I tapped on the womans profile.

Her feed was filled with dozens of videos. Though her face was always cropped out or obscured, a mans arm was constantly visible in the framepouring her drinks, holding her hand, cradling her stomach. And on that wrist was a familiar silver watch, right next to a distinct mole.

It was unmistakably Dad.

My hands shook violently, the screen blurring. But the warning from my future self echoed in my mind, drowning out the urge to cry.

Screenshot everything. Save the proof.

Three days passed in a blur of silence. On the drive home, I stared out the window, watching the highway lines blur.

Mom noticed my distant mood and reached over to squeeze my hand. "Whats wrong, baby? If you really hate trips like this, I won't drag you along next time. Nothing is more important to me than how you feel."

My eyes welled with tears. She was such a good, kind woman, yet in the original timeline, she had spent her final years trapped in a miserable, exhausting marriage before dying of cancer.

No, I thought, blinkering away the tears. I have to wake her up.

Before I could say a word, Moms phone rang. The caller ID flashed: Dan.

"Claire, I'm home," his voice boomed warmly through the car speakers. "What do you guys want for dinner? Ill whip something up."

Moms tone was flat, completely devoid of its usual warmth. "Anything is fine. Why don't you ask your daughter? She's been in a mood all day."

She handed the phone to me, but I couldn't bring myself to say his name. Seeing my silence, Mom didn't force me. She rattled off a few of my favorite dishes and hung up.

For the remaining three hours of the drive, neither of us spoke a word. But Moms grip on my hand only grew tighter.

When we finally pulled into our apartment buildings parking lot, I saw Dad waving at us from the entrance.

"You must be exhausted," he said, pulling a bouquet of red roses and a porcelain doll from behind his back like a magician. "Do you like them?"

Mom took the flowers, though she gave him a light, reprimanding look. "We have debts to pay, Dan. Why are you wasting money on things like this?"

Dad looked at her with pure devotion. "I'm young, Claire. We'll pay it off. Besides, I can't let my wife suffer."

To anyone else, we looked like the picture-perfect, happy family. But I refused to touch the doll, walking right past him without saying a word.

Mom sighed, turning to him with a helpless look. "I don't know what's gotten into her. She's been acting strange ever since we left."

A flicker of panic crossed Dads eyes before he quickly brushed it off. "Just tired, probably. Let's go up. I kept dinner warm."

The apartment was spotless. Because Mom had a mild dust allergy, Dad was always meticulous about deep-cleaning the place whenever we were gone for more than a few days.

"Go wash your hands. I'll plate the food."

It was a beautiful four-course meal, but I couldn't look at it. My mind was flooded with the videos I had seen on that womans TikTok.

She loved fish, but she was incredibly picky about itno fishy smell, not too soft. And of all the things Dad cooked, his absolute specialty was pan-seared sea bass.

Now I knew exactly who he had perfected that recipe for.

A wave of hot, suffocating anger rushed through me. In a single, swift motion, I swept my arm across the table, sending the plates clattering to the floor.

Both of them froze. But instead of yelling at me, they immediately rushed forward, terrified I had been burned. Dad dragged me to the kitchen sink, running cold tap water over my hands, frantically calling out to Mom to find the first-aid kit.

He looked so genuinely concerned, so incredibly loving. And yet, this was the man who would ruin our lives.

I yanked my hands away, ran to my room, and slammed the door. Mom followed me inside a moment later.

"Sadie, sweetheart, what is going on? Talk to me. Did something happen?"

Through the door, I heard the click of the lock as Dad went downstairs to take out the trash.

The moment he was gone, I grabbed Mom's arm. "Dad is lying to us!" I cried, my voice trembling. "He doesn't have any debtshe has another family! I heard a womans voice on his phone the other night. And I took screenshots on your phone. Mom, please, don't let him fool you anymore!"

Mom didn't move. She just sat on the edge of my bed, gently wiping the remaining water from my hands with a soft towel.

"Mom, don't you believe me?" I begged, tears streaming down my face. "I'm not lying! It's all"

Mom let out a long, quiet sigh, her hand reaching up to stroke my hair.

"Sadie... I know. I know everything."