My Husband in the Mirror

I suspect the man in my house is not my husband. I even suspect he might not be human. It’s because Ethan has been acting too strange lately. He’s been a left-handed guy for over ten years, but suddenly, he’s doing everything with his right hand. Even the butterfly-shaped birthmark on his right thigh has vanished. More terrifyingly, when he walked across the balcony this morning, the bright morning light hit him from the side. There were two shadows stretching across the hardwood floor. One in front. One behind. But when he hugged me, I could clearly hear the strong, steady beat of his heart. I tried to tell myself I was just being paranoid. Until this evening. I was busy prepping dinner in the kitchen with the TV running in the background. Suddenly, the news anchor’s voice cut through the air with an urgent breaking bulletin: "We have an update on the male body recovered from Swan Lake last week. The victim has been officially identified." "The deceased is Ethan, male..." *Boom.* My brain went completely numb. Behind me, the kitchen door creaked open. Ethan’s warm, gentle voice echoed in my ears: "Honey, I’m home." I shivered violently. I spun around, grabbing the chef’s knife off the counter and pointing it straight at him. "Who the hell are you?" --- Seeing me in a panic, Ethan didn’t get angry. He actually smiled. He took two steps toward me. "I’m Ethan, babe." "What are we playing today? Is this another one of your mystery roleplays?" I didn't say a word. I just took two steps back, keeping the knife raised. Ethan paused, as if he finally registered the news anchor's voice coming from the TV in the living room. He glanced toward the hallway. Understanding dawned on his face. "Oh, I see. The news scared you." "Lily, look at the screen carefully. The victim in the news is thirty-five. I’m only twenty-eight. The age doesn’t even match. This city is huge. It’s not rare for someone to share my name." "Put the knife down, sweetheart. I don’t want you to hurt yourself." Following his words, I looked toward the TV, my heart still hammering. The anchor was still reading the update: "The victim, Ethan, was a thirty-five-year-old unemployed male. The police are continuing their investigation..." I froze. He was right. The age didn’t match at all. Slowly, I lowered the knife. Seeing this, Ethan quickly stepped forward. He gently but firmly took the knife from my hand, set it on the counter, and pulled me into his chest. "You poor thing. You were terrified, wasn't they? Look at me. I’m right here. I’m perfectly fine." "Go rest on the couch. I’ll finish cooking tonight." He gently guided me out of the kitchen. Sitting on the couch, the TV was still blaring: "In other news, the city council held a meeting this morning to discuss..." I couldn't hear a single word. My eyes were glued to the busy figure in the kitchen. A cold dread slowly crawled up my spine. Because I suddenly remembered... Ethan didn't know how to cook! But the man in the kitchen was chopping vegetables with perfect, fluid motions. He even tossed the steak in the pan like a professional chef. That kind of skill couldn't be learned overnight. He was definitely not Ethan. Then who was he? I thought fast. My eyes swept over the coffee table. While his back was turned, I quickly snatched a small paring knife from the fruit bowl and slid it up my sleeve. I had to test him. A little while later, Ethan walked out carrying two plates of delicious-looking steak and pasta. He waved at me. "Lily, wash your hands. Dinner’s ready." I obediently got up, washed my hands, and sat down. I tried to sound casual as I asked, "Did you make the marinara sauce sweet? You know I only like sweet pasta." Ethan paused, his hand holding the serving tongs freezing mid-air. He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I thought you only liked savory and spicy sauces? Since when did your taste change?" He was right. I hated sweet pasta. I nodded, brushing it off. "Ah, my bad. I misspoke. I meant savory." I took my plate from him. Then, I deliberately stabbed my fork straight up into the mound of pasta, letting it stand upright. Ethan immediately frowned and shook his head. "How many times have I told you? Don't leave your fork standing upright like a tombstone. It's bad luck." "Your mom is super superstitious about that. If she saw you doing this, you'd get another lecture." The habit matched too. In the past, whenever I did small, sloppy things like this, Ethan would always scold me gently. But... hearing him mention my mom gave me another idea. I took a bite of the steak and said casually, "Right, my mom's birthday is coming up. Can you help me pick out a gift? I was thinking of getting her a nice designer silk scarf for her upcoming trip. It’ll look great in photos." Ethan leaned over and used his fork to pick a stray piece of cooked onion out of my plate. He looked at me, exasperated. "I cut the onions so big and you still almost ate one? I knew you'd spit it out if you tasted it." He then sat back and smiled. "But your mom’s birthday isn't until November. We have plenty of time. You got her a silk scarf last year. Even though she loved it, we shouldn't repeat the same gift. How about we get her a nice leather tote bag this year instead?" I chewed on my food silently. His answers were flawless. He hadn't tripped over a single trap I set. Was I really just losing my mind? After dinner, seeing that I still looked pale, Ethan insisted on doing the dishes. He practically pushed me toward the bathroom to take a warm bath and get some rest. Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Just as I was debating whether I should just have an open, honest talk with him, the bedroom door opened. Ethan climbed into bed and pulled me gently into his arms. "Lily, you've been off all day. Did that news report really mess with your head that much?" "Don't worry. I’m right here. Tomorrow is finally the weekend. Let's go grocery shopping after I get off work. You've been cooped up inside for too long. I don’t want you getting cabin fever." His heartbeat was strong and steady against my ear. I didn't know how to answer, so I just gave a vague murmur. But just as I lifted my head to say something else, a heavy, overpowering wave of exhaustion hit me. I drifted into a deep sleep in his arms. In the middle of the night, a very soft footstep woke me up. I opened my eyes sleepily. I saw Ethan get out of bed and quietly walk out of the room. He seemed to be heading toward the home study. Ethan's company had been handling a cross-border 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 the next morning, when I got up, I realized the study door was locked. Even our spare key wouldn't turn the lock. The lock had been completely replaced. ---The clicking sound of me rattling the doorknob caught Ethan's attention. He had just walked through the front door, holding a takeout bag with warm breakfast. He explained smoothly: "Lily, the lock isn't broken. The computer in the study is migrating some sensitive company data. I was worried you might accidentally mess with the keyboard while cleaning, so I locked it. The project wraps up this afternoon. I'll take the lock off tonight. Don't worry about it." Saying this, he gently guided me away from the study door. "Forget about the lock. Come on, let's eat breakfast." "Pancakes with maple syrup, bacon, and those special cinnamon rolls you love from the bakery down the street." I nodded obediently. I didn't look back at the newly installed lock. But deep down, I knew. There was definitely a secret in that room! To avoid raising his suspicions, I didn't push him. I sat down and ate breakfast with him, planning to investigate once he left for work. After breakfast, Ethan left for the office as usual. As he walked past the balcony, I instinctively looked down to check his shadow. But the floor was completely empty. Only then did I notice that the thick blackout curtains had been drawn shut. The only light in the house came from the cold LED spotlights on the ceiling. I reached out to pull the curtains open, but a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Ethan kissed the top of my head gently. His voice was as sweet and doting as ever. "I'm off to work. I'll pick you up for the grocery run tonight." Ethan left. I was left alone in the house. I immediately decided to call a locksmith. After the call connected, the locksmith dispatcher asked me to send a picture of the lock cylinder so they could send the right technician. The dispatcher on the other end stayed silent for a long time after receiving the picture. Finally, she spoke hesitantly: "Ma'am, that's a Grade 1 high-security smart lock. It's very rare for residential use. It's incredibly difficult to install or remove. We only have one technician certified to handle this model, but he's currently at a bank servicing their vault. Can I book you for tomorrow morning?" "Also, this model has a lockout fail-safe feature. If you try to force it open, the internal mechanism will self-destruct and lock permanently. Please do not try to break it yourself, or even our best tech won't be able to open it." "Even for our specialist, it will take at least three hours to pick." I gasped. Though shocked, I became even more convinced that whatever was locked inside that study was terrifying. "Okay, book me for tomorrow morning," I agreed and hung up. I turned on the TV to keep me company while I did the chores. "Good morning, everyone. Today is May 14th. Welcome to your morning news. First, we have two international updates..." At noon, Ethan called me. "Lily, what are you doing?" "Did you eat lunch? No sneaking snacks instead of real food, okay?" My hand, which was currently reaching into a bag of potato chips, froze. I let out a guilty laugh. I quickly changed the subject. "No, I ate a proper lunch. I'm just relaxing on the couch watching TV." "What about you? Have you eaten? Why are you calling me at this hour?" Ethan let out a tired sigh. His voice sounded exhausted. "My meeting just ended. I'm grabbing a quick sandwich." "Lily, I don't think I can make the grocery run tonight. I have an online conference at eight, and I need to be in the study. And... I might have to go into the office tomorrow to work overtime too." Hearing the fatigue in his voice, my heart ached for him. But at the same time, a wave of relief washed over me. If Ethan had to work tomorrow, I wouldn't have to find an excuse to get him out of the house when the locksmith arrived. "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 tender reply and hung up. I watched the thriller show on TV, but it felt boring. I could easily guess all the plot twists. It made me drowsy, so I decided to head to the bedroom for a quick afternoon nap. In my sleep, I felt extremely uncomfortable. I had a persistent feeling that someone was staring at me. Sticky, damp, and intense. I slept terribly. When I finally woke up, my heart was racing. I got up and pulled some ingredients from the freezer to defrost. I muttered to myself: "Tonight, I'll make... pasta, steak, and some broccoli." "Actually, let's skip the broccoli. We had that yesterday." I typed out the menu on Snapchat and sent it to Ethan, asking if he wanted anything else. Ethan replied instantly: *No, that sounds perfect. I'm leaving the office now. Thanks, babe.* *I haven't had your steak and pasta in forever.* ---With his confirmation, I went into the kitchen to start cooking. The TV in the living room was still on, acting as white noise. As I washed the tomatoes for the pasta sauce, my mind wandered back to Ethan’s bizarre behavior over the past few days. While I was lost in thought, the news anchor’s voice suddenly interrupted the program again: "We have an update on the male body recovered from Swan Lake last week. The victim has been officially identified." "The deceased is Ethan, male..." *Boom.* My brain exploded once again. Behind me, the front door gently clicked open. Ethan’s warm voice filled the room: "Honey, I’m home." I trembled all over. I whipped around, pointing the kitchen knife at him. "Who the hell are you?" Ethan looked genuinely surprised. He didn't understand what was happening until he saw the TV screen. He explained again that he just shared the same name as the dead man. The age and occupation didn't match. It was just a coincidence. I nodded, letting my guard down. He gently took the knife from my hand and hugged me to comfort me. Then, he half-pushed, half-guided me out of the kitchen. ... Wait. Why did I say "again"? A flash of memory crossed my mind, but it was too fast. I couldn't grasp it. All I could do was awkwardly try to test Ethan during dinner. The savory pasta, the fork standing upright in the plate, the picked-out onions. And my mother's birthday. Ethan answered everything perfectly. But something still felt incredibly off. What exactly was wrong? Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It wasn't until Ethan climbed into bed, pulled me into his chest, asked me how I was feeling, and promised to take me grocery shopping tomorrow that I finally felt a wave of sleepiness. I fell asleep in his arms. Once again, I woke up in the middle of the night. I noticed Ethan had slipped away to the study. A thick, heavy sleepiness tried to drag me back down. I knew I should just close my eyes. And wake up tomorrow. But just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone on the nightstand suddenly lit up. It buzzed three times. Curious about who would text me at this hour, I fought the sleepiness and opened the message. *Hello, this is the locksmith dispatcher. I am so sorry to bother you at this hour.* *Regarding the study lock appointment you booked this afternoon, our technician won't be able to make it tomorrow. He has a sudden family emergency and took leave. Could you try another company, or would you like to reschedule with us?* *If you choose to reschedule, we can offer you a thirty percent discount. Would that work?* I glanced at the time. **12:01 AM.** It was already the next day, May 14th. But I had absolutely no memory of calling a locksmith today. We have spare keys for every lock in this house. Why would I book a locksmith? Suddenly, I remembered Ethan leaving the bed just now. A familiar, suffocating panic rushed over me, and chaotic memories flooded my brain like a broken dam. Instinctively, I reached my hand under my pillow. Sure enough, a small paring knife was tucked neatly underneath. I had put it there. My past self. I slid the knife up my sleeve with practiced ease, as if I had done this a thousand times before. I stood up and walked toward the study. Without even knocking, I placed my hand on the doorknob. *Click.* The door opened easily. The study was pitch black. I couldn't see a thing. But just as I reached out to search the wall for the light switch... My wrist. Was suddenly grabbed by a cold hand. Ethan's deep, low voice echoed in the darkness: "Lily, you found out anyway." ---