The evening air was cool in Wolverhampton as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the quiet neighborhood. Karen Porter, a woman known for her warm smile and unwavering strength, had spent the day entertaining guests in her backyard. Her swimming pool, a centerpiece of the gathering, reflected the twinkling lights strung above. Laughter and conversation filled the air, but as the night deepened, the guests slowly trickled away, leaving Karen alone in the tranquility of her home.
Feeling the weight of the long day, she decided to take a quiet swim before heading inside. The water was inviting, cool against her skin, as she floated on her back, staring at the stars. She let out a content sigh, allowing the gentle ripples to lull her into relaxation. However, as she turned to swim toward the edge, a sharp pain shot through her leg, causing her to gasp. A sudden cramp locked her muscles, and panic set in.
She flailed, reaching for the pool’s edge, but it seemed just out of reach. The water that had once felt soothing now wrapped around her like a relentless force, pulling her down. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she fought to stay afloat, but her limbs grew weaker with every passing second. A muffled cry escaped her lips before the water silenced it.
Inside the house, her son, Daniel, sat on the couch, lost in the glow of his phone screen. He had been meaning to check on his mother, but she had always been independent—she never needed help. When the house fell into silence, he assumed she had gone to bed. It wasn’t until much later, when he walked outside to turn off the garden lights, that he saw it—the eerie stillness of the water, the floating silhouette at its center.
A jolt of fear shot through him as he sprinted toward the pool, his voice breaking the silence with a desperate scream. He plunged into the water, grabbing her lifeless body and pulling her to the surface. His hands trembled as he laid her on the cold tiles, his mind racing. “Mum! Wake up! Please!” he cried, pressing his hands against her chest in a desperate attempt to revive her. But there was no response—only the quiet hum of the night, indifferent to his sorrow.
Paramedics arrived within minutes, but to Daniel, it felt like an eternity. They worked tirelessly, their voices a blur as he stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat. Then, after what felt like the longest moment of his life, one of them looked up and shook their head. “I’m sorry,” the medic said softly. The words shattered him.
As the days passed, the reality of his loss settled in. The house felt unbearably empty, each room echoing with memories of his mother’s laughter, her scolding, her warmth. The pool, once a place of joy, now stood as a haunting reminder of that fateful night. Guilt clawed at his chest—what if he had checked on her sooner? What if he had heard something? The questions tormented him, but no answers came.
On the night of the funeral, Daniel stood by the pool, staring into its depths. He dipped his fingers into the water, feeling the same coldness that had taken her. But as he looked up at the sky, the stars twinkled just as they had that night, and for the first time, he let himself believe that she was still with him—watching, waiting, telling him to keep going.
