My Husband In The Mirror!

I suspected someone was pretending to be my husband. I even suspected... he wasn't human. Because Ethan had been acting too weird lately.

He had been lefthanded for over ten years, but suddenly, he was using his right hand. Even the birthmark on his inner thigh was gone. What was even creepier happened this morning.

As he walked past the balcony, the morning sun cast two distinct shadows of him on the floor. One in front, one behind.

Yet, when we hugged, I could clearly hear his strong, steady heartbeat. I thought I was just being paranoid.

Until this evening, while I was busy in the kitchen with the TV running in the background, the news anchor suddenly interrupted with a breaking bulletin: [Breaking news.

The identity of the male body found drowned in Greenwood Lake last week has been confirmed.] [The deceased is Ethan Vance, male...] "Boom." My brain instantly went blank.

Behind me, the front door was gently pushed open. Ethan’s warm, gentle voice echoed through the hallway: "Chloe, I'm home." I shook violently.

Spinning around, I pointed the kitchen knife straight at him, screaming: "Who the hell are you?" Seeing how terrified I was, Ethan didn't get angry. Instead, he chuckled.

He took two steps forward and said: "It's me, Ethan." "What roleplay are we doing today, Chlo?" I didn't say a word. I just took two steps back.

Ethan paused, as if finally noticing the news anchor's voice on the TV. He glanced over at the screen.

Then, understanding dawned on him. "Oh, so you were scared by that." "Chloe, look closely at that news. The deceased is thirtyfive. I’m only twentyeight.

The age doesn’t even match." "New York is a huge city. It’s not surprising someone shares my name." "Put the knife down, honey.

I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself." Following Ethan’s words, I looked back at the screen, still halfdoubting.

The news anchor was still reading the details: [The deceased, Ethan Vance, male, thirtyfive years old, unemployed. The case is currently under further investigation...] I froze.

He was right. The details didn't match. Slowly, I lowered the knife. Seeing this, Ethan quickly walked over.

He smoothly took the knife from my hand, set it on the cutting board, and pulled me into his arms to comfort me. "You were really terrified, weren't you? Shh, look at me.

I'm right here, perfectly fine." "Go sit on the couch and rest. I’ll make dinner tonight." I was gently guided out of the kitchen by his embrace.

Sitting on the couch, the TV was still blaring. But I couldn't process a single word. My eyes were glued to the busy figure in the kitchen. A cold shiver slowly ran down my spine.

Because I suddenly remembered... Ethan couldn't cook to save his life! Yet, the man in the kitchen was chopping vegetables flawlessly.

His movements were incredibly smooth, and he even tossed the pan with professional ease. This kind of skill was not something you could learn overnight. He was definitely not Ethan.

Then who was he? I racked my brain. My eyes swept across the coffee table.

Taking advantage of the moment his back was turned, I quickly slid the small fruit knife from the fruit bowl into my sleeve. I was determined to test him.

A little while later, Ethan walked out carrying two plates of freshly made pasta. He waved at me. "Chloe, wash your hands.

Dinner is ready." I obediently got up, washed my hands, and asked in a casual tone: "Is there garlic in this pasta?

I don’t really like garlic lately." Ethan paused midserve and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you loved garlic in your pasta?

Since when did you change your taste?" He was right. I loved garlic. I nodded and brushed it off. "Just making a joke.

Never mind." Taking the plate from his hand, I purposely made loud, obnoxious slurping noises while eating.

Ethan stopped his fork and gave me a look. "How many times have I told you? Don't make noises when you eat." "Your mom hates that.

If Helen saw you doing this, you'd get a whole lecture again." The habits matched perfectly, too.

In the past, whenever I played these little childish tricks, Ethan would always call me out. But... speaking of my mom.

I changed the subject, trying to sound relaxed: "Oh, by the way, Mom's birthday is coming up. Can you help me pick out a designer silk shawl? She loves wearing them on trips.

They look great in photos." As Ethan listened, he used his fork to pick out the large mushroom slices from my plate.

He frowned slightly at me. "I sliced these mushrooms so big, and you still didn't see them?

You'd spit them out anyway if you bit into them." "But isn't Helen’s birthday in November? That's still months away. You got her a designer scarf last year.

Even though she loved it, we don't have to get her the same thing every year. How about we get her a nice leather handbag this year instead?" I took a bite of my pasta.

Ethan’s answers were flawless. He didn't fall into a single trap I set. Was I... really just overthinking this?

After dinner, seeing that my face was still a bit pale, Ethan took care of the dishes as well. He urged me to go take a warm bath and get some rest.

Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Just as I was wondering if I should have an open, honest conversation with him, the bedroom door opened.

Ethan climbed into bed and pulled me gently into his chest. "Chloe, you've been acting off all day. Did that news really scare you that much?" "Don't worry. I'm right here.

It's the weekend tomorrow. Let's go grocery shopping after I get off work. You've been cooped up inside for too long.

I’m worried you're getting bored." The heartbeat beside my ear was strong and steady. I didn't know how to answer, so I just gave a vague murmur.

Just as I looked up to say something else, an overwhelming wave of sleepiness hit me. I drifted off to sleep in his arms. In the middle of the night, I heard very faint footsteps.

I opened my eyes sleepily. I saw Ethan get out of bed and walk out of the room. He seemed to be heading toward the home office.

Ethan’s company was working on a crossborder merger lately. Because of the time difference, it wasn't unusual for him to work in the middle of the night.

I didn't think much of it and closed my eyes again. But when I got up the next morning, I suddenly found the office door locked. Even our spare house key couldn't open it.

The lock had been replaced!

The sound of me rattling the lock drew Ethan over. He looked like he had just returned from outside, holding a bag of fresh bagels. He explained: "Chloe, the lock isn't broken.

The computer in the office is migrating some heavy data. I was worried you might accidentally touch the keyboard, so I locked it. The project will wrap up this afternoon.

I'll take the lock off tonight. Don't worry about it." Saying that, Ethan gently guided me away from the office door. "Forget about the lock.

Come on, let's have breakfast." I nodded obediently and didn't look back at the lock that had been so mysteriously swapped out. There was definitely a secret in there!

To avoid raising suspicion, I didn't push him. I just sat down and ate breakfast with him, planning to investigate once he left. After breakfast, Ethan left for the office as usual.

As he walked past the balcony, I subconsciously looked down to check if those two bizarre shadows were still there. But when I looked, the floor was completely empty.

Only then did I realize that the thick curtains had been drawn tightly shut. The only light in the house came from the cold recess lights on the ceiling.

I reached out to draw the curtains, but Ethan hugged me from behind. He kissed the top of my head gently, his voice as doting as ever: "I'm leaving now.

I'll pick you up after work." Ethan left. Left alone in the house, I decided to call a locksmith.

After the call connected, the customer service representative asked me to take a picture of the lock cylinder so they could send a technician with the right tools.

The representative on the other end stared at the photo for a long time before saying hesitantly: "Ma'am, that's a Grade 1 highsecurity deadbolt.

It's extremely rare for residential use. It's very difficult to install or bypass.

We only have one technician who can handle this model, but he's currently busy servicing a bank vault today.

Can I schedule you for tomorrow?" "Also, this model features an automatic lockout mechanism.

If someone tries to force it open, the internal relocker trips, rendering it completely unpickable. I strongly advise against trying to force it yourself.

Otherwise, even our best technician won't be able to save it." "The estimated time to drill it open is at least three hours." I froze.

Though surprised, I became even more certain that whatever was locked inside that room was not simple. "Okay, let's schedule for tomorrow then." I agreed and hung up the phone.

Around noon, Ethan called me. "Chloe, what are you doing?" "Did you eat lunch?

You better not be filling up on junk food again." My hand, which was reaching into a bag of potato chips, paused. I laughed guiltily.

I quickly changed the subject. "No, I had a proper lunch. I’m just lounging on the couch watching TV." "What about you? Have you eaten?

Why are you calling me at this hour?" Ethan let out a helpless sigh, his voice sounding tired. "My meeting just ended.

I'm grabbing a quick sandwich." "Chloe, I might not be able to go to the grocery store with you tonight. I have a Zoom call at eight, so I'll need to use the office. And...

I might have to go into the office to work overtime tomorrow, too." Hearing the exhaustion in his voice, my heart ached for him. But I was also secretly relieved.

If Ethan was working overtime tomorrow, I wouldn't have to find an excuse to get him out of the house when the locksmith came. "It's fine, we can go next time.

The grocery store isn't going anywhere." "Go eat your lunch. I'll wait for you at home." He gave a gentle reply before hanging up.

I watched the thriller show on TV, but it felt a bit boring. I could guess the plot twists, and it was making me sleepy. So, I decided to go take a nap.

In my sleep, I felt a vague sensation of someone staring at me. It felt damp, sticky, and suffocating. I didn't sleep well. When I woke up, my heart was racing.

I got up to take some shrimp out of the freezer to defrost. I muttered to myself: "Let's make... cheesy shrimp balls today.

And a salad." I texted the menu to Ethan, asking if there was anything else he wanted. Ethan replied almost instantly: [No, that sounds perfect. Exactly what I wanted.

I'm leaving the office now. Thank you, Chloe.]

With his confirmation, I went into the kitchen to start preparing. The TV in the living room was still on, serving as background noise.

As I washed the tomatoes, my mind drifted back to Ethan’s recent strange behavior.

While I was spacing out, the news anchor’s voice suddenly cut in with a breaking bulletin: [Breaking news.

The identity of the male body found drowned in Greenwood Lake last week has been confirmed.] [The deceased is Ethan Vance, male...] "Boom." My brain instantly went blank.

Behind me, the front door was gently pushed open. Ethan’s warm, gentle voice echoed through the hallway: "Chloe, I'm home." I shook violently.

Spinning around, I pointed the kitchen knife straight at him, screaming: "Who the hell are you?" Ethan looked surprised.

He only realized what was happening when he saw the news on the TV. He explained that he and the dead man just shared the same name. Their ages and occupations didn't match.

It was just a coincidence. I nodded, letting my guard down. The knife was taken from my hand, and he pulled me into his arms to comfort me.

He gently guided me out of the kitchen. ... Wait, why did I think "as usual"? Something flashed through my mind, but it was too fast. I couldn't grasp it.

I could only try to test him awkwardly at the dinner table. Ethan answered everything perfectly, but I still felt something was off. What exactly was wrong?

Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

It wasn't until Ethan got into bed, pulled me into his arms, said some comforting words, and asked me to go grocery shopping tomorrow that I finally felt sleepy and drifted off.

Once again, I woke up in the middle of the night, sensing that Ethan had gone to the office. The heavy blanket of sleep tried to pull me back down. I should have closed my eyes.

And waited to wake up the next morning. But just as I closed my eyes, my phone on the nightstand suddenly lit up. It buzzed three times.

Curious about who would message me at this hour, I forced myself to sit up and check the screen. [Hello, this is the locksmith service.

We apologize for the late message.] [Regarding your appointment tomorrow to unlock your office door, our technician won't be able to make it. A family emergency came up.

Would you like to try another company or reschedule with us?] [If you reschedule, we can offer you a thirty percent discount.

Does that work for you?] I looked at the time. 12:01 AM. It was already the next day, May 14th. But I had absolutely no memory of booking a locksmith yesterday.

We had spare keys to every lock in the house. Why would I call a locksmith? Suddenly, I remembered Ethan leaving the bed. A familiar, suffocating feeling rushed over me.

Scattered memories cluttered my brain like a storm. I instinctively reached under my pillow. A fruit knife had been placed there at some point.

I guessed I was the one who put it there. I smoothly hid the knife in my sleeve, acting as if I had done this a thousand times before. I got up and walked toward the office.

Without even knocking, I put my hand on the doorknob. "Click." The door opened. The office was pitch black.

Just as I reached out to feel for the light switch on the wall, My wrist Was suddenly grabbed. Ethan's deep voice echoed in the darkness: "Chloe, you found out anyway."