Chapter 1
My husband, who had just survived a brush with death, pulled me into his arms, his gaze filled with love and remorse. He kept blaming himself for having neglected me all these years.
Our friends nearby were gushing, saying he finally got his act together after surviving such a close call.
But I was so shaken I could barely stand.
After all these years of marriage, my husband had never hugged me, not even once.
Everyone else just assumed he was simply bad at expressing his feelings.
Only I knew the truth. Ten years ago, after an accident where he risked everything to protect me, he could never use both arms together again.
So how could this man wrap me up in a firm embrace with both arms?
Who was this man, really?
*****
It all happened ten years ago.
Ethan and I were on a road trip when we were in a crash.
To protect me, Ethan shielded me with his embrace, holding me tight.
We were finally rescued.
I walked away without a scratch, but the nerves in Ethan's arms were ruined. He could never raise both hands together again.
I cried, scolding him for being so foolish, but he just smiled back at me.
"It's fine, Emma. As long as you're alright, nothing else matters to me..." he said.
I stood frozen, staring at the man before me.
His tone, his expressions, even the rhythm of his words—every nuance was unmistakably Ethan.
I told myself maybe I was just worn out lately, and my senses were off.
But that cold feeling in my chest wouldn't leave, no matter how hard I tried to shake it off.
Just then, my mother-in-law Linda pushed her way through the crowd, grabbing Ethan in a rush and looking him over again and again, barely able to contain her excitement.
"Thank God you're alright. Thank God you're safe," she said, her voice trembling with relief.
Ethan gently patted her back, trying to comfort her.
His tone, the way he furrowed his brow, even the way he paused mid-sentence out of habit—it was all exactly how Ethan always was.
Everything looked just as it always had—almost too normal until we made our way down the mountain with the rescue team.
A search dog passed by, and Ethan gave its head a casual pat without thinking.
I shuddered.
"Honey, aren't you allergic to dog fur?" I blurted out.
Linda froze too.
Linda blinked in surprise, "Yeah, Ethan, didn't you always start sneezing whenever you touched dog fur?"
Ethan froze for a moment, caught off guard.
"You're right. I have no idea how that happened. Maybe my allergy just cleared up all of a sudden," he said.
Ethan's eyes lit up with excitement as he said this.
"Hey Emma, now that my allergy's gone, why don't we get a dog?" he suggested.
Ethan acted so calm and collected, but inside, I was terrified, cold sweat running down my back.
Everyone assumed Ethan never kept a dog because he was allergic to dog fur.
But I was the only one who knew the real reason. He wasn't allergic at all. He was actually afraid of dogs.
He was too proud to admit it, so he put on an act every day, pretending it was just an allergy.
One's words and actions could be learned, and some memories could also be forgotten.
But his fear of dogs was instinctive. There was no way it could just vanish like that.
Even as we walked down the mountain, Ethan didn't show a single hint of being afraid of dogs.
I watched him keep petting the search dogs, acting as if he'd never been scared of them at all.
My heart turned cold.
This man wasn't Ethan. Definitely not.
Where was my Ethan? Where did he go?' I couldn't stop the question from echoing in my mind.
It was late at night by the time we finally made it home.
I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind a total mess.
I tried to retrace everything in my head, searching for clues.
When did Ethan begin to change?
Just two weeks ago, before Ethan left for his trek in the snowy mountains, he was totally normal.
That morning, he even said to me, "Emma, when I get back, let's go see your favorite flower fields together."
Once he was up there, he texted me every single day.
He sent me photos of the snowy peaks, hiking videos, and nighttime views from the camp.
I sat up in bed, pulled up my chat with Ethan, and scrolled all the way back to the messages from the day he started his trek.
He'd sent me a video from the snowy mountain camp. The camera was steady, and his tone was light and easy.
"Emma, this place is beautiful. Next time, you have to come with me!" he said in the video.
I watched that video again and again.
It was definitely his face, his voice. There was nothing strange about it at all.
But the more I watched, the more suspicious I became.
This didn't feel like sharing.
It was more like he was trying to make his presence felt in my life.
If the Ethan I was with wasn't really him, then what about the Ethan who texted me? Was that really him, or was that an imposter too?
And Linda, and Jessica, did they have any idea the man with them wasn't really Ethan anymore?
That night, I lay awake, tossing and turning until dawn, unable to get a single moment of rest.
Early the next morning, when no one was paying attention, I quietly snuck out of the villa and made my way to the police station.
"I need to report something. my husband might be missing," I told the officer at the front desk.
The officer, a guy in his thirties, gestured for me to sit down. "Just take your time and tell me what happened," he said.
I explained the whole situation to him.