By the time the rescue crew dragged me out of Sub-Level 3 beneath the flooded shopping complex, Denis was blowing out candles for his childhood best friend’s birthday. My phone screen was pitch-black, waterlogged beyond saving. Out of seventeen desperate emergency calls I had tried to make, only one message had received a reply. At two in the morning, his text had read: “Your GPS puts you at a hotel downtown. Stop making a scene.” When I woke up in the emergency room, the nurse dialed his number and put it on speaker. In the background, voices were singing “Happy Birthday.” “What does she want now?” Denis’s voice came through the speaker, tight with irritation. The nurse glanced at my soaked jacket, still dripping onto the floor, and fought to keep her tone steady. “Mr. Lawson, Tori Nicholas was trapped in the flooded basement at Northgate Plaza. She was just pulled out of critical condition.” Silence stretched across the line for a few seconds. Then Brooke’s soft voice drifted through: “Denis, she was definitely at the Regency downtown last night. I showed you her location on my phone myself.” Denis let out a heavy, disappointed sigh. “Tori, how much did you pay actors to pull off a stunt like this?” I reached over, pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand, and took the pen from the nurse’s hand. On the emergency intake form, I drew a thick, heavy line through the “Emergency Contact” box where Denis’s name sat. Stroke by stroke, pressing down hard. The black ink bled into the paper, blotting out the last place he held in my life. … The night before, I had gone to the shopping plaza to retrieve the engagement ring Denis had left in his backseat. Our families were meeting for dinner the next day. Earlier that afternoon, Denis had coaxed me with a soft smile: “After tomorrow, we’ll head straight to the courthouse to get our license.” Brooke had been sitting beside him, cradling a mug of hot cocoa. She’d looked up and asked, “Denis, once you’re married, are you going to stop caring about me?” Denis had laughed and ruffled her hair. I had set my half-empty coffee cup back on the table without a word. At ten that night, Denis called me. “The ring box is still in the backseat of my car. Grab it for me on your way home.” Outside, heavy rain lashed against the windows, and my phone buzzed with a flash-flood warning. “Let’s just get it tomorrow morning,” I said. Brooke’s voice chimed in over the speaker first. “It’s fine, Denis. I’ll walk down to the garage with you tomorrow.” Denis lowered his voice, his tone shifting into reprimand. “Tori, don’t throw a fit over something this small.” I didn’t argue. I put on a coat and went downstairs. The mall was already closed for the night, and the underground parking garage was dimly lit by a single row of emergency lights. Denis’s car was parked in the furthest corner of Sub-Level 3. The ring box sat in the backseat, carelessly shoved under a brown paper bag of roasted chestnuts that Brooke liked to eat. When I picked it up, a dusting of powdered sugar clung to my fingertips. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Brooke. Denis was leaning over a table, lighting a birthday candle for her. Deep within the garage, a dull, heavy thud echoed through the concrete walls. The overhead lights flickered twice, and half the floor plunged into darkness. I turned to head toward the elevator lobby. As I reached the ramp leading up, the toe of my boot sank into water. A minute ago, it had been a thin sheen on the concrete. Now, it was surging over my ankles, thick with silt and debris, rushing deeper into the sub-level. I called Denis. The first call rang out. The second was sent straight to voicemail. I typed out a message with cold fingers. “B3 is flooding. The water is rising and I’m trapped. Can you come down here?” The loading wheel spun for what felt like an eternity before the message finally marked as sent. I let out a breath. A second later, his reply popped up: a single question mark. Followed immediately by a screenshot. A bright red pin on the map showed my location at a boutique hotel on the south side of town. Denis texted: “I thought you were at the mall?” I froze, opening my own map app right away. The screen lagged, freezing on the hotel address, while my cell signal dropped down to a single bar. “The GPS is wrong. I’m really in the B3 garage.” This time, the red exclamation mark appeared. Failed to send. My phone rang. Denis’s voice was icy. “Tori, where the hell are you?” I gripped the phone tightly. “The underground garage at Northgate. The water is rising fast. Call building management—I can’t get up the ramp.” A faint sob came through the line from Brooke’s side. “Denis, don’t be hard on her. Maybe… maybe she just cares about you too much to tell the truth.” My throat tightened. “Brooke, what are you trying to say?” Denis didn’t answer me. It sounded like he moved the phone away from his ear. “Don’t cry,” he murmured softly to her. The water was past my ankles now, swirling violently. “Denis!” I yelled. “I am not playing games. Get security down to B3 right now. I’m right next to your car.” Silence hung on the line for a few agonizing seconds. I heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and for a split second, I thought he was coming for me. Then Brooke spoke up again, her voice trembling. “Denis, I sent you that photo earlier. Tori really was at the hotel tonight. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Denis’s breathing grew heavy and sharp. “Tori,” he said, his voice dropping into that dark, exhausted register he used whenever he thought I was being unreasonable. “Are you really doing this again? Threatening to break up with me just to get attention?” A wave of water rushed down the ramp, slamming into the tires of the nearby cars with a loud splash. I lifted the ring box high above my head, my fingernails digging into the velvet lining. “Just get me out of here first,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Once I’m out, you can check whatever you want.” Brooke called out softly in the background. “Denis… I’m scared.” When Denis spoke again, all warmth had drained from his tone. “Walk out of the hotel first, Tori.” The line went dead. I stood in the darkening basement, listening to the rapid dial tone against my ear. A moment later, a message popped up from Brooke. “Tori, stop making a scene. It’s my birthday.” I stared at the words, my fingers numb from the damp cold. The muddy water was creeping past my calves. I ignored Brooke and called Denis again. Busy signal. Busy signal. On the third try, he finally picked up. “Tori, are you ever going to stop?” I pressed the phone flat against my ear. “Denis, I’m not fighting with you. Call the mall management to send someone down to B3, or call emergency services right now.” I heard the sound of a car door shutting on his end. My heart lifted slightly. “Are you coming?” He didn’t answer. Brooke’s voice drifted over from the passenger side. “Denis, the hotel isn’t far from here. I’ll go with you. If it’s a misunderstanding, I’ll apologize to Tori myself.” A chill ran down my spine. “Why are you going to the hotel?” Denis said coldly, “You claimed the GPS was wrong, didn’t you? I’m going to see for myself.” “I am at the mall!” My voice echoed hollowly through the vast, empty concrete structure. The line went quiet for two seconds. I caught a slight break in his breathing. I seized that tiny flicker of hesitation. “Listen! Listen to the water! Can’t you hear it?” I lowered the phone toward the surface of the rushing water. The rain pouring down the entrance ramp hit the metal bodies of the cars like gravel. Denis said nothing. Then Brooke let out a quiet sob. “Denis… could she be running a faucet in a hotel bathroom to record that for you? I don’t want to doubt her, but remember the last time she used breaking up to scare you?” The last time. The time Denis skipped my father’s memorial service to take Brooke to the hospital for a minor stomach ache. I had brought up ending things back then. Now, coming out of Brooke’s mouth, it sounded as if I were a woman who routinely faked emergencies for leverage. Denis’s voice turned dangerously quiet. “Tori. Send a video call.” I opened the camera immediately. The screen showed only pitch darkness. The only thing visible was the faint green reflection of the emergency exit sign on the dark, churning water. I pointed the lens at Denis’s license plate, then at the ring box in my hand. The loading wheel spun continuously. “Failed to send.” My signal bars dropped from one to “No Service”. The water was at my knees now. I scrambled onto the running board of an adjacent SUV, reaching my arm as high into the air as I could. The screen flickered. A photo came through from Denis. In front of a hotel entrance, a woman with her head bowed was walking through the glass doors. Her back was turned to the camera, wearing a beige trench coat identical to mine. His caption read: “Is this you?” Staring at the image, a cold dread crept up my spine. Brooke had complimented that exact coat just this afternoon. I typed out a reply: “That isn’t me.” The moment it sent, Denis called back. His voice was colder than I had ever heard it. “How long are you going to keep lying to me?” I gritted my teeth, fighting back tears. “Check the license plates down here! Check the garage security cameras! I haven’t left B3!” “Enough!” he snapped, cutting me off. “It’s Brooke’s birthday. Did you really have to ruin it like this?” “Ruin it.” The water churned closer. An empty plastic bottle floated past, slamming hard against a concrete pillar with a loud crack. I shoved the ring box deep into the inner pocket of my coat and used both hands to pull at the heavy fire exit door beside the pillar. The water pressure against the other side held it shut. I slammed my shoulder against it twice, but the steel door didn’t budge an inch. On the phone, Brooke was still crying softly. “Denis, forget it. Let’s not celebrate anymore. It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be this angry.” Denis’s tone softened as he comforted her. “It’s not your fault.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “Denis,” I said. “If I actually die down here tonight, will you still think it’s not her fault?” Silence fell complete and total over the line. After a long pause, he spoke. “Tori, don’t use death to manipulate me.” I closed my eyes. The freezing water soaked through my jeans, turning my knees completely numb. I made one final attempt. “I am in Sub-Level 3 of Northgate Plaza. If you send someone right now, there’s still time.” His reply was prompt and sharp: “Your location is at the hotel. What are you still performing for?” The call disconnected. When I tried to dial back, a gray banner popped up across the screen: “User unavailable.” My text messages refused to go through. I tapped on his profile picture. His feed had turned into a single horizontal line. Denis had blocked me. The garage returned to the singular sound of rushing water. I exited the app and dialed 911. No signal. I dialed again. Still no signal. The battery indicator in the upper right corner flashed red: 9%. Biting my lip, I climbed onto the roof of the SUV, holding the phone up toward the concrete ceiling. This time, the call connected. The dispatcher’s voice came through, fractured and faint. “Emergency… state your… location…” “Northgate Plaza… Sub-Level 3… B3… I’m trapped…” Before I could finish the sentence, the line dropped. Fearing the battery would die completely, I searched my contacts for the mall’s direct customer service hotline. I pressed call. It rang seven or eight times before a man picked up. “Northgate Customer Service, how can I help you?” I almost sobbed with relief. “Sub-Level 3 is flooded! I’m trapped down here in B3, please send someone down immediately!” The representative’s voice shifted instantly. “Ma’am, stay on the line. Can you see a license plate or a pillar number near you?” I leaned over the edge of the roof, straining my eyes in the dark. “B3… Section F… F17!” “Got it. We’re notifying property management and the fire department right now. Stay as high up as you can and do not touch any electrical boxes.” I heard the sound of footsteps scrambling on his end. In the distance, a faint horn echoed from above ground. I slammed my palm against the metal roof of the car. “I’m down here!” The sound was swallowed by the roaring water. The floodwaters had reached the door handles of the vehicle. I reached into my bag, pulled out the damp ring box, and tucked it into the inner lining of my jacket, right against my chest. The hard edge pressed against my ribs. The token of his promise to marry me felt colder than the water below. The phone buzzed again. It wasn’t Denis. It was an unknown number. I answered it immediately, ready to repeat my coordinates, but Brooke’s voice came through instead. “Tori, why aren’t you answering Denis’s calls?” My grip tightened around the phone. “How did you get this number?” She paused, her tone dropping into a gentle, innocent murmur. “The front desk looked up Denis’s number using his license plate. He’s driving, so he asked me to check on you first.” “Tell them to get down here. B3, Section F, F17.” “Tori…” Brooke let out a soft sigh. “Can you please stop doing this? Denis is already at the hotel. The front desk confirmed a woman in a beige trench coat walked in earlier.” I kept my voice low and steady. “That wasn’t me.” “But you do this every single time,” she whispered, as if afraid someone might overhear. “You know Denis is terrified of anything happening to you, so you use that to force him back to you.” “I just wanted him to stay with me until midnight for my birthday. Why couldn’t you give me just this one night?” The water reached my knees as I sat on the roof. Staring into the pitch-black ramp leading out, a sudden realization struck me. “Brooke… did you alter my location data?” The line went dead silent. Then, she let out a quiet chuckle. “Tori, do you hear yourself right now?” Before I could reply, a beep signaled an incoming call from the mall service desk. I switched lines. The representative sounded hesitant. “Miss Nicholas? Have you made it up safely?” My head throbbed violently. “No! I’m still in B3!” “Oh… because a lady just called our desk claiming to be your friend. She said you already reconnected with your boyfriend and that it was just a personal argument, so we didn’t need to send the team down.” “What was her name?” “She didn’t give a full name. She just said her last name was Crawford.” A surge of water slammed against the side of the car, rocking it slightly. The representative panicked. “Miss Nicholas? Are you still there?” I gripped the roof rack, forcing the words through my teeth. “I am still down here.” “Send them down now.” “She is lying to you.” Chaos erupted on the other end. Someone yelled in the background: “Don’t recall the B3 search team! Someone is still trapped down there!” Just as I felt a wave of relief, a harsh crackle of electricity hummed overhead. The entire row of emergency lights went dark at once. Total blackness enveloped the garage. My phone screen flickered with its final breath of light. Battery: 1%. From the direction of the security shutters, I heard a heavy, muffled banging sound. I opened my mouth to scream, but my throat could only produce a dry rasp. The freezing water was at my waist now. I pounded my fists against the roof of the SUV. Once. Twice. The noises from outside suddenly grew louder, clearer. “Over here! I heard something in Section F!” Flashlight beams sliced through the gaps in the metal shutters, the bright light piercing my eyes. When the shutters were pried open, a torrent of trapped water surged outward. Several figures in high-visibility rescue gear waded through the current toward me. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, holding me steady. “Ma’am! Stay awake, can you hear me?” I couldn’t nod. The rescue worker asked again, “What’s your name?” My lips moved feebly. “Tori… Nicholas…” When I woke up, the air was sharp with the smell of antiseptic. I was lying in an emergency observation room, an IV line inserted into the back of my hand. My wet coat hung over the foot of the bed, dripping slowly onto the floor. The nurse was hanging up a phone, a grim expression on her face. “Did you reach the emergency contact?” I asked softly. She nodded, handing me the intake form. “He said he’s on his way.” I looked down at the paper. “Denis Lawson” was written neatly in the designated box. I pulled out the IV needle and reached for the pen on the bedside table. At the bottom of the form, I crossed out Denis’s name with heavy, dark strokes. The nurse didn’t stop me. She simply pressed a piece of sterile gauze over the bleeding puncture mark on my hand. “Hold still,” she murmured gently. “It’s bleeding.” Half an hour later, Denis burst into the room. He was still wearing the black button-up shirt from Brooke’s birthday dinner, a smear of dried cake frosting near the cuff. When his eyes met mine, his footsteps halted abruptly. Then his eyes traveled to the clipboard hanging at the foot of my bed. In the emergency contact section, his name was completely obscured under a scrawl of black ink. “Tori…” I looked away, staring straight ahead. He stepped closer, his voice strained and hoarse. “You… you were really in B3?” The nurse let out a dry, humorless laugh. “The rescue logs and emergency admission records are right here. Would you like to double-check if she swam over from the hotel instead?” Denis’s face drained of color. He reached out, his hand trembling as he attempted to touch mine. I pulled my arm back beneath the blanket. His hand froze in midair. “I didn’t know,” he swallowed hard, his throat moving nervously. “Your GPS kept showing the hotel, and Brooke said she saw you there. I thought…” “You thought I was making a scene again?” I interrupted. His lips parted, but no sound came out. The door to the observation room swung open. The mall property manager walked in alongside a staff member, the hems of their trousers caked in wet mud. Seeing that I was conscious, the manager let out a long breath. “Miss Nicholas, I am so sorry. When we received your first call, we were already preparing to send the team down.” Denis snapped his head around. “First call?” The manager glanced at him. “Yes. But shortly after, a woman called our service desk back, saying Miss Nicholas had made it up safely and that it was just a couple’s quarrel.” Denis frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “Who?” The manager pulled out a smartphone. “We just pulled the recording of that incoming call from the system.” I tightened my grip on the bedsheet. Denis stared at the phone, his voice barely a whisper. “Play it.” The manager tapped the screen. Static hissed through the speaker. A second later, Brooke’s voice echoed clearly through the quiet room.
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