My Wife Swore I Was A Monster, But She Was The Real Demon

Ever since my wife, Chloe, had a miscarriage, her emotions had been completely unstable. She needed to see a therapist regularly. Every single time, I drove her there and waited outside, never once allowed into the session room. Seeing the smiles slowly return to her face, I thought she was finally healing. I never expected that today, the moment she walked through the front door from her appointment, she would lunge at me and wrap her hands around my throat. Her eyes burned with pure malice. "You're not my husband! Who the hell are you? What did you do to Ethan?!" I was choking, on the verge of blacking out, when my in-laws rushed over and dragged her off me. No matter how I tried to explain, she refused to believe I was her husband. Every time she laid eyes on me, she tried to kill me. Left with no choice, I went to see her therapist. The second I walked into that office, everything clicked. No wonder she thought I wasn't her husband. I had always assumed Chloe's therapist was a woman. I never imagined he was a young, sharp-looking man. Dr. Lucas Vance looked younger than both Chloe and me, which made me blurt out, "How long have you been practicing?" "A little age bias, Mr. Walker?" Lucas asked with an amused smirk. Realizing I was being rude, I quickly apologized. Lucas didn't seem genuinely offended, so we got straight to the point. "To be honest, Mrs. Walker hasn't shown any real improvement despite all the sessions." "No improvement?" I froze. From her very first session, Chloe had looked me in the eye and said, "I feel so much better." Her behavior changed dramatically every time she came home. Her parents and I could see it with our own eyes—she seemed happier, calmer. If she hadn't tried to strangle me today, I would have never doubted the therapy's success. Seeing my confusion, Lucas pulled out a thick stack of session notes. "Take a look." "Actually, I've asked Chloe multiple times to bring you in," he continued. "I felt that her emotional knot was tied to you. Every time she mentioned you, she had an extreme reaction. At first, it was disgust. Then, it turned into pure hatred. And lately..." Lucas paused, hesitating as he looked at me. Finally, he said, "She believes you aren't her husband. She thinks you're a monster who stole Ethan away." I flipped through the files while listening to him, feeling as if reality were tearing apart at the seams. "What triggered this?" Lucas shook his head. "I can't reach her core trauma. Chloe is completely guarded. She won't let me close." "Then what do I do?" Lucas hesitated for a long time before replying, "Play along with her for now. Try to open her heart. Also... I need to evaluate you. Are you really Ethan Walker?" "You doubt me, too?" I shot to my feet, staring at him in disbelief. Seeing how agitated I was, Lucas quickly raised his hands. "Chloe told me a lot of things. If what she said is true, then there's no way you could be Ethan." My curiosity flared through the anger. "What did she say?" "She hates coffee more than anything, yet you constantly brew it for her." I was stunned. That was ridiculous! Ever since her miscarriage, Chloe was the one who kept asking for coffee. I had even asked her about it: "Since when do you drink coffee?" She had snapped back coldly, "What, am I not allowed to drink it?" I had scrambled to explain: "No, of course you can. I just thought your tastes changed suddenly." "Can I drink it or not?" "Yes, of course." So I started making coffee for her every day. And now that was somehow my fault? Besides, could a person's tastes really change that drastically overnight?For a split second, I even began to wonder if Chloe was still Chloe. That brought another incident to mind. Back when we were dating, Chloe had a severe seafood allergy. Yet she loved the taste, so every time she indulged, she had to take heavy allergy meds beforehand. I vividly remembered one night when she forgot her pills and ate shrimp. Her throat closed up, and she couldn't breathe. We rushed to the ER in the middle of the night, barely saving her life. After that terrifying night, I banned seafood from our home. Yet recently, she had started ordering seafood platters. When I confronted her, she blew up: "Are you broke now? Do you have to police what I put in my mouth?!" At the time, I didn't think too much of it. I just assumed she was lashing out because of grief. Looking back now, something was horribly wrong. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. "Mr. Walker?" Lucas noticed I had zoned out and gave me a concerned look. I immediately told him about the coffee and the seafood. Hearing this, Lucas's expression darkened even further. "Let's do this: I'll conduct an assessment on you right now to see if there's any deep psychological trauma blocking your memory." "Okay." I followed his instructions and lay down on the therapy recliner. When I finally opened my eyes, the room was dark. The sun had already set. I looked at Lucas. His face was pale and grim. My heart instantly leaped into my throat. "What is it?" Without a word, Lucas handed me a diagnostic report. "Mr. Walker, I think you should read this yourself." My hands trembled as I opened the folder. When my eyes landed on the final evaluation, my entire world shattered. Schizophrenia? "This is a textbook psychiatric disorder," Lucas said softly. "It's still in the early stages, but if left untreated, it could develop into a full dissociative identity disorder." "Dissociative identity disorder... You mean multiple personalities?" Lucas nodded, his tone heavy and sympathetic. "Chloe's mental state collapsed after losing the baby, making her hypersensitive. Combined with your early psychotic episodes, it pushed her over the edge..." "So you're saying... I might have done completely uncharacteristic things without remembering them, and Chloe saw it all?" Lucas nodded solemnly. My knees gave out, and I sank onto the floor. I had imagined a million possibilities, but never this. Lucas placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't tell Chloe yet. It's best if you sleep in separate rooms for a while so I can treat her without triggering more episodes." "Okay." Right now, all I wanted was for both of us to get better. It hadn't been easy building a life together from college sweethearts to husband and wife. I didn't want our marriage to fall apart over an unborn child. Even if that child wasn't mine to begin with.By the time I got to my in-laws' house, dinner was already on the table. Chloe wasn't back yet. She had texted her parents telling me to eat first. The atmosphere around the dining table was stifling. Near the end of the meal, Chloe's parents exchanged nervous glances. Her mother, Martha, looked at me timidly. "Ethan... you and Chloe... are you two..." Her voice broke into a choked sob before she could finish. I quickly forced a comforting smile. "It's fine, Mom. I went to see the doctor today. Chloe and I are going to get through this." "Really?" "Yes, I promise." Only after I nodded did Martha's tears subside. Chloe didn't come home until past midnight. She looked surprisingly energized, even chatting animatedly about drama at her office—something she hadn't done in months. When I stepped out of the bathroom after washing up, she wrapped her arms around me from behind. "You've worked so hard taking care of me lately, honey." For a brief second, it felt like everything was back to normal. If she hadn't shoved me away the moment I tried to cuddle her in bed, the night might have ended peacefully. "I'm tired. Just go to sleep." The warmth on Chloe's face vanished instantly, replaced by a wall of ice. She shoved me away with pure disgust, turning her back to me. A surge of frustration flared in my chest, but then I remembered my diagnosis. I took a deep breath and told myself: *Take it slow. One step at a time.* Waiting until Chloe was breathing evenly, I quietly slipped out of bed, swallowed my medication, and went to sleep. The next morning, a bloodcurdling scream jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to see Chloe staring at me, her eyes wide with terror and rage. "What happened?" Chloe was shaking violently from head to toe. "If you didn't want to be with me, you could have just said so! Why humiliate me like this?!" Sobbing hysterically, she grabbed her purse and ran out. By the time I threw on some clothes and walked into the living room, Chloe was already gone. Sitting on the couch were her parents, staring at me with profound disappointment. Meeting their accusatory glares, I threw my hands up in defeat. "What did I do?!" The two elders exchanged a heavy look before Martha sighed deeply. "Ethan... how could you cheat on my daughter with an intern from your company?" Martha shoved my unlocked phone into my hands. When I looked down and saw the flirty, explicit SnapChat messages between my account and the new girl at the office, my hands shook so violently the phone clattered to the floor. I raised my hand, swearing frantically, "No! This wasn't me! I don't even know that intern's full name! I have no idea when she was even added to my contacts!" Neither of them believed a single word. "Ethan, we know Chloe has been difficult lately, but cheating is unforgivable." "She's fragile right now! How could you do this to our daughter?!" They took turns berating me, every word cutting like glass.My skull felt like it was going to split open under the pressure. Before I could say another word, my phone buzzed with a text from Chloe: [I think we both need some space to clear our heads.] [Move out for now. We need time apart.] After that, no matter how many times I called or texted, she left me on read. Her parents had received the same message. Without another word, they packed up my suitcases. "Ethan, it's not that we don't care about you, but moving out is best for everyone right now." Defeated, I had no choice but to leave. I checked into the corporate apartment my company provided. Every day, I showed up to work on time, took my prescribed pills, and visited Lucas three times a week. A month went by, and Lucas finally brought me some good news. "Chloe is almost fully recovered." "Really?" My desperate, hopeful expression made Lucas chuckle softly. He turned his tablet around and played a clip of her recent session. In the video, Chloe was laughing brightly, her cheeks glowing. She looked just like the girl I fell in love with years ago. A smile tugged at my lips. "Thank you, Dr. Vance. Thank you so much." "Ethan, the person you should thank is yourself," Lucas said, his tone suddenly turning dead serious. I caught a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "What is it?" "I have a new treatment strategy, but I'm not sure if you'll agree to it." "Tell me." Lucas slid a folder across the desk. The title read: *Separation for Reconciliation.* "You want Chloe and me to get a divorce?" Lucas nodded. "It's a temporary shock therapy. You two are each other's emotional triggers right now. Separating legally gives both of you a clean slate. Once your emotions stabilize, getting back together will be a conscious, healthy choice." He spent over an hour walking me through psychological case studies. He even showed me a recording of his discussion with Chloe. In the video, Chloe was weeping. "I don't want to leave Ethan..." Lucas gently comforted her on screen: "If taking time apart allows both of you to heal, won't you return to each other as better people?" Chloe went silent. After a long time, she looked up, her tear-stained eyes determined. "Okay..." Seeing that, I gave in, too. The next morning, Chloe and I went down to the county clerk's office to file the divorce paperwork. Standing on the courthouse steps after scheduling our final hearing, we shared a soft, bittersweet hug. "Once the divorce is finalized, let's both work hard to heal." "Yeah," Chloe whispered. Because this was just supposed to be a temporary formality, I agreed to sign everything over to her—the house, our savings, everything. That night, sleep eluded me completely. As if drawn by an invisible thread, I drove back to our old neighborhood and parked beneath our apartment window. The lights were completely off. I leaned against my steering wheel, sighing in defeat. Just as I was about to start the engine and head back, a familiar silhouette caught my eye near the entrance. It was Chloe. I smiled, stepping out of the car to call her name, but someone beat me to it. A tall figure stepped out from the shadows, and in the next second, Chloe threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. When the streetlamp illuminated the man's face, I stumbled back, gasping for air. What the hell was going on?! The brutal realization that I had been played smashed through my brain. Enraged, I sprinted across the pavement, slammed into them, and ripped them apart. Then, my palm cracked across Chloe's cheek. "You're fucking cheating on me?!"