CLAIRE'S POV

"I'm sorry! I really messed up with what I said. That was out of line, Claire," one of Ethan's friends exclaimed, dramatically slapping his wrist as if to punish himself.

Ethan waved him off and pointed sharply at the college girl, who was still on stage.

“Get out of here!” he barked, his voice cutting through the awkward silence in the room.

“You all are unbelievable,” Ethan added, shaking his head at his buddies. “Bringing in trash like that? How could someone like her even deserve to be in the same room as my wife?”

The girl’s face turned crimson, her eyes welling up with tears. She quickly opened the door and bolted out without looking back.

Ethan turned to me, his chest puffed up like he expected a round of applause for his performance.

I grabbed my bag without a word. “I’m tired. You guys go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

Without hesitation, Ethan sprang up and followed me out.

As we walked to the car, my phone buzzed with a message. I glanced at the screen.

It was the risk disclosure document for the cryogenic experiment.

While Ethan was driving, he shot me a curious look. “Who’s texting you this late?”

I stared at the message for a second longer before pressing delete. “Just spam.”

He didn’t push it further and instead launched into an explanation, going overboard to insist he had absolutely nothing to do with the dancer.

I turned to face him fully, my voice calm but firm. “Ethan.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his knuckles turned white. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember what I told you when we got married?” I asked.

His hands trembled, and the car swerved slightly before he regained control, pulling over to the side of the road. He slammed on the brakes and turned to me, his face pale.

“Claire! I swear to you! I will love only you in this lifetime! I won’t ever give you a reason to leave me! I mean it!” His tone was intense, eerily similar to the vows he’d made five years ago.

'The experiment will begin in Iceland in a month. You can change your mind at any time during this period.' Dr. Reed's words echoed in my mind as I took a deep breath.

Right then, I turned to Ethan and said, “Ethan, take me to Iceland. I want to see the Northern Lights.”

He visibly relaxed, letting out a long sigh of relief. “Of course! Whatever you want.”

When we got home, Ethan wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder.

“Claire, you smell so good,” he murmured, his voice soft.

I had been pregnant for a month. To keep my pregnancy stable and to surprise him on our anniversary, I’d been avoiding any physical closeness.

“I’m tired,” I said, gently pulling away. “I’m going to bed.”

For a moment, Ethan just stood there, frozen, before forcing a smile. “Alright, you get some rest. I still have work to finish at the office.”

He grabbed his coat and headed out.

As soon as he left, I followed him.

I stayed far enough behind to remain unnoticed, watching as he parked his car in a dark, secluded spot by the roadside. My breath caught when I saw him pull out his phone to make a call.

Not long after, the college girl from the party appeared, jogging up to meet him.

In the biting cold, she shrugged off her coat, revealing everything beneath.

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Ethan smirked and pushed her into the backseat of his car. Moments later, the luxury vehicle began rocking violently.

I couldn’t watch it any longer. I snapped a few photos and turned away, my stomach churning.

Ethan didn’t come home until near dawn. He slipped inside, quickly showered, and climbed into bed beside me like nothing had happened. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around me and fell asleep.

By the time he woke, I was already dressed and packed my bags.

“Claire, what are you doing?” he asked, alarmed.

I kept my tone even, not meeting his gaze. “Getting my visa.”

Ethan’s face paled. He scrambled out of bed, barefoot, and grabbed my arm. “Claire, I…” He stuttered, struggling to form a complete sentence.

I looked at him, my expression cold and unmoving. “What is it?”

He opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Didn’t you promise to take me to Iceland?” I reminded him.

Relief flashed across his face as he remembered. “Oh! That’s right. Silly me. I’ve been so swamped I forgot. I’m an idiot.” He chuckled nervously, slapping his forehead. “Wait for me. I’ll get dressed and go with you.”

He started toward the bathroom, but I stopped him in his tracks. “Ethan...”

He turned back, his eyes darting nervously.

“Why are you so on edge?” I asked, staring straight into him.

CLAIRE'S POV

Ethan pulled me into his arms, his hands trembling slightly. His voice cracked as he stammered, “I didn’t, Claire. I swear I didn’t. Please, believe me.”

He clung to me like a drowning man grasping for air. “It’s because I love you so much. I’m terrified of losing you. If there ever comes a day when you’re not by my side… I’d go crazy.”

I raised my hand and pushed him away, my voice cold. “Then don’t ever lie to me, Ethan.”

He forced a shaky smile and raised his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear—if I, Ethan, ever betray you, Claire, I’ll die!”

In the past, hearing him make promises like that would've made me smile. I’d even cover his mouth and tell him not to say such dramatic things. But now? Now, I wanted to see if he’d be willing to put his money where his mouth was.

I opened the car door, but the stench inside hit me so hard I had to squat down and gag.

“Claire!” Ethan exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern. “Why have you been feeling nauseous so much lately?”

There was a flicker of excitement in his expression. “Are you… pregnant?”

I shook my head. “No, my stomach’s just been off lately.”

Without missing a beat, Ethan slapped himself across the face. “This is all my fault. I’ve been so wrapped up in work that I haven’t been taking care of you.”

I didn’t have the energy to watch his little performance anymore. Suppressing my nausea, I climbed into the car.

As we drove, I couldn’t help but glance at the backseat over and over again. Images of Ethan and that dancer from the previous night kept flashing through my mind.

Ethan caught me looking and frowned. “Claire, what are you staring at?”

I leaned down and picked up a small, crumpled piece of fabric from the floor. My stomach turned when I realized what it was. Without a word, I flung it into his lap.

“Claire, wait!” Ethan’s voice shot up an octave, panic written all over his face. “It’s not what you think! I lent the car to a friend last night! I didn’t know he’d… do something like that in my car!”

Five years of marriage, and for the first time, I saw just how good Ethan was at lying. It came so naturally like he’d been practicing for years.

I stared at him, my tone icy. “Who’d you lend it to?”

Ethan’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Flustered, he quickly pulled the car to the side of the road and snatched his phone.

When the call connected, he didn’t even wait for a hello. “What the hell did you do with my car last night? My wife’s upset, thinking I—”

There was a pause, but the person on the other end caught on quickly.

“Claire, I’m so sorry,” the voice on the phone stammered. “It’s my fault. I got hammered last night and puked all over the place. I had to borrow Ethan’s car to get my girlfriend home. I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding!”

Ethan ended the call and looked at me with cautious, pleading eyes.

I curled my lips into a faint sneer, my stomach churning with a mix of disgust and pity. So, everyone around us knew. They all knew Ethan couldn’t keep it in his pants, and yet they’d been helping him cover it up this whole time.

I forced a small smile. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t do something like that. I was just curious. Why are you so nervous?”

Ethan let out a huge sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. “Claire, it’s because I care about you so much. I can’t stand the thought of you doubting me. If you’re upset, I’d lose my mind.”

I nodded, pretending to accept his explanation. Now wasn’t the time to confront him, not yet. If I tipped my hand too soon, I wouldn’t be able to leave.

We got my visa processed quickly.

After that incident, Ethan became unusually cautious. He came home on time every night for weeks, canceling all his social plans. He was attentive, doting—acting like we were newlyweds all over again.

To anyone else, his performance might’ve been flawless.

But Ethan didn’t know that every message he sent to that dancer was being mirrored to my phone.

That's how I learned her name—Madeline Brooks. She was a 20-year-old ballet student. Her father was an alcoholic. Her mother was sick. She had a younger brother to care for and barely enough to keep her head above water.

And that night in the car? It had been her first time.

CLAIRE'S POV

Ethan had somehow convinced himself he was Madeline’s savior. He kept reassuring her, over and over, that he’d take care of her family and her—so long as she stayed in line and didn’t let me, his legal wife, find out.

Whenever he had free time, he’d sneak away to contact her. And after I fell asleep, he’d slip out of bed to indulge in quick, stolen moments with her.

But Ethan underestimated Madeline.

A drowning person will grab onto anything and Madeline? She was desperate.

She reached out to me first.

Madeline flooded my inbox with everything—every suggestive photo she’d taken with Ethan, leaving nothing to the imagination. There were pictures of all the luxury gifts he’d given her, screenshots of large money transfers, and candid shots of him holding flowers while waiting to pick her up after class.

It didn’t stop there. She wrote long, detailed messages about their time together like my chat inbox had become her personal diary.

I didn’t respond. Not a single word.

At first, my silence confused her. Then it started to enrage her.

[Claire, did you know? Ethan brought me to your house while you weren’t there.]

[Your bed is so soft. I wore your nightgown while being intimate with Ethan in your bed.]

[Ethan said you’re too rigid, that I’m the one who truly makes him happy.]

Still, I didn’t reply.

Then came a photo of her in an evening gown.

[Do you like it? This was supposed to be a surprise Ethan prepared for your wedding anniversary. But when I said I liked it, he gave it to me instead.]

[Tonight, I’ll be wearing this dress to his company’s annual gala.]

This morning, Ethan had told me to stay home and rest, assuring me he’d attend the gala alone. Now, it was obvious why. His concern wasn’t for me—it was for that dancer, Madeline Brooks.

I changed into formal attire and headed to the hotel hosting the gala.

When I arrived, I spotted them almost immediately. Right in the center of the dance floor, Ethan was holding Madeline in his arms as they danced.

The murmurs started before I even stepped onto the floor.

“Claire always acts so high and mighty, bragging about her ‘devoted husband.’”

“Guess she’s no better than anyone else. He even brought his mistress to the gala.”

“Ethan doesn’t hold back. Not bringing his wife to such a formal event? Bold.”

“Men—they all say they love you, but their bodies? They’ll love anyone. Only someone like Claire would believe a man’s promises.”

I stepped into the restroom, letting their mocking words wash over me. Then, taking a deep breath, I pushed open the stall door and made my way toward Ethan.

The moment I walked in, the room seemed to freeze, every pair of eyes snapping in my direction.

“Claire?” Ethan’s voice cracked as he saw me. He immediately let go of Madeline, his face pale. “Claire, I can explain! I just brought a casual companion, that’s all!”

My response was a hard slap across his face.

Pulling out my phone, I shoved it in his face, showing him the endless chat records. “Ethan, what kind of ‘companion’ ends up in your bed?”

He froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. No words came.

Madeline stepped forward, her face twisting into a smirk. But before she could utter a word, I slapped her too.

She stumbled back, her heel catching on the floor, and fell into a tower of champagne glasses. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room as champagne spilled across the floor.

And then I saw it—a stream of bright red trickling from between her legs.

“Ethan! Ethan, save me!” she screamed, her voice hysterical. “Save our baby!”

Ethan froze, staring at the red stain spreading on the floor. Then, without a second thought, he shoved me aside and scooped her into his arms.

He rushed her out of the ballroom, not even looking back.

At that moment, he chose her.

He made me into a public spectacle, a joke.

But I’d already made up my mind. I didn’t care what anyone thought of me anymore.

When I got home, I started packing for my trip to Iceland.

A few days earlier, the lab had contacted me to confirm that I wasn’t backing out of the experiment. After finalizing everything, they sent me a new identity and plane tickets, just as I’d requested.

I was still Claire Watson—but my date of birth was now five years later than my real one.