The first week of your vacation at the beach side cottage was perfect. The days were a sun-drenched blur of saltwater and sand, and the nights were for the two of you, curled up on the porch listening to the waves. It was on the seventh night, with Daisy asleep against your shoulder, that the world ended.

It started not with a sound, but with a feeling—a deep, subterranean groan that traveled up through the floorboards and into your bones. The quiet night erupted. The porch lights died, plunging you into darkness as the wooden cottage began to buck and scream. A bookshelf toppled, glassware exploding in the kitchen.

"Daisy!" you roared, grabbing her as she jolted awake, her cry of confusion swallowed by the earthquake's fury.

You stumbled, dragging her towards the door as the world tore itself apart. You burst outside onto the shaking ground, only to see a sight more terrifying than the quake itself. The ocean, under the sickly glow of a half-moon, was pulling back. It wasn't a gentle tide receding; it was a violent, unnatural suction, leaving a vast, glistening void of seabed where water should have been. Everyone runs and screams, the palm trees shook violently and the cars beeps everywhere.

Then you saw it. On the horizon, the waves rushing, you pulled Daisy into a crushing embrace, your back to the inevitable. There was no outrunning it. There was only the deafening thunder and the cold certainty of the end.

Her final, terrified whisper was a ghost against your neck. "I love—"

Then, a different kind of pressure. Not the crushing force of water, but a silent, vacuum pull from the opposite direction. It was as if the universe itself had taken a breath and was sucking you back through a pinhole of reality. You felt a sickening, bone-deep rewind before you passed out.

The salt-tinged air, soft and warm. The gentle weight of Daisy’s head on your shoulder. The faint synth-pop from her phone.

"Hey," she nudged you awake, her voice laced with amusement. "Earth to my favorite guy. Did you really just fall asleep during a conversation? So, babe, have you found a nice place for our vacation yet?"

You gasped, a violent, sucking breath. Your heart was a trapped bird beating against your ribs. The laptop was on your knees, the screen glowing with the same damned beach rental page.

You were back. A week before the quake.

Your hand shot out and grabbed Daisy's, squeezing it like a lifeline.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" she asked, her smile fading into concern.

You stared at her, the phantom roar of the tsunami still echoing in your skull, the taste of salt and terror fresh in your mouth.