The Impostor Wearing My Husband's Body

I opened my eyes, my heart pounding violently. My back was completely soaked with sweat.

Even though it was just a dream, it still left me feeling deeply uneasy.

What terrified me even more was that the spot beside me was empty. My husband, Ted Towery, wasn't there.

From the kitchen came the sharp, rhythmic thuds of a knife against a cutting board.

I didn't dare turn on the lights. I fumbled around in the dark for the baseball bat for courage. Ted often beat me with it, and it really hurt. If he really had turned into something strange, then this would make a decent self-defense weapon.

Gripping the bat tightly, I tiptoed toward the kitchen.

It was pitch-black inside. All I could make out was a shadowy figure standing in front of the counter. The frantic chopping of the knife against the cutting board seemed to strike directly at my heart with every blow.

The dream from earlier played like a loop in my mind. My body felt nailed in place, and my mind went blank except for a frantic scream—"Run! Run! Run!"

My legs turned weak. I carefully turned and started inching away. However, my foot slipped, and my house slipper made a loud squeak against the floor.

The chopping stopped abruptly.

In that instant, it felt like the entire house stilled—there were no sounds at all except my own breathing. I nervously clamped a hand over my nose.

In the dead silence, the dark shadow took one step after another toward me.

"Piper, why didn't you turn on the lights?"

With a click, the ceiling lights turned on, and warm brightness flooded the living room.

Ted stood beside the switch, looking at me in confusion.

I swallowed hard. "I heard noises from the kitchen, so I came out to check. What were you chopping?"

He grinned. His gaze was gentle and carried a hint of doting affection. "Didn't you say you wanted tortellini last night? I was mincing the filling."

Then his eyes slowly dropped to the baseball bat in my hands. His smile froze, and his voice turned slightly cold.

"Babe, what are you doing with that bat?"

Under his dark stare, the memories of him beating me flashed through my mind.

The bat slipped from my hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

I forced an awkward smile. "N-Nothing. I wasn't doing anything."

He didn't look at me again. I stared at him nervously while he went back to the kitchen and resumed mincing the pork.

The bloody, raw meat tumbled across the cutting board. He was using great force, so from time to time, droplets of blood splattered upward. Some speckles even landed on his eyebrows, but he didn't seem to care at all.

After watching for a while, I felt a chill creep over me, and I ran back to the bedroom. Only when I buried myself under the blanket did the chilling feeling ease slightly.

Ever since we came back from our last trip, Ted had been acting strangely. Not only had he stopped beating me, but he'd also become extremely attentive and caring.

In the past, he'd never even stepped into the kitchen; I was the one who did all the cooking. But now, ever since we returned, it was like he'd had a personality makeover—he started making all kinds of delicious food for me at every meal.

At first, I thought he was planning to poison me so he could get himself a new wife. But after eating his food for over ten days, I was still alive.

And last night, I had indeed mentioned tortellini. Maybe I was just being too paranoid.

But were there people who actually minced pork in the dark at 3:30 am? I had a vague feeling that something was off.

At this hour, the neighbors were still sleeping, so I thought it'd be better to tell him to do the chopping a little later.

I got up again and grabbed my house slippers. Only then did I notice that there was a large patch of blood on them. The dark red bloodstain stood out sharply against the faded fabric of the slipper.

And this blood… didn't come from me.

At that moment, I realized the chopping sound from outside had stopped at some point. I looked up and found Ted standing at the door, holding a kitchen knife, staring intently at me.

Startled, I dropped the slipper.

Seeing him walk toward me step by step with the knife in hand, I hugged my head and buried myself under the blanket.

The mattress sank slightly beside me. Ted's breath brushed gently against my ear.

"Piper, it's time to eat. I've finished cooking the tortellini. They won't taste good once they're cold. Come out and eat."

The pasta was piping hot and springy, stuffed with juicy, savory pork and a hint of basil. One bite and the juices burst out. It was so delicious it almost made my head spin.

Before I got married, tortellini was my favorite food. But after marriage, it had been a long time since I'd had one this good. I didn't know how to make them, and Ted never allowed me to eat out.

All the household money, even my paycheck, was strictly controlled by him. Every day, he gave me 20 dollars to buy groceries. Every penny had to be spent wisely, and if even a cent was unaccounted for, I'd be beaten and yelled at.

Right now, as the hot filling filled my mouth, it was as if some switch inside me had been flipped, and my tears suddenly fell without warning.

Ted sat at the table, smiling as he watched me eat. From time to time, he'd ask, "Is it good?"

"It's good," I answered between bites.

Only then did I notice his bowl and cutlery were completely clean and untouched. I didn't remember him eating yesterday… Or the day before… Or even the day before that…

I froze, my fork hovering in midair. "Aren't you going to eat?"

He didn't answer my question. His dark, hollow eyes stared at me as he changed the topic.

"That's top-quality pork. I specially picked it myself. Make sure you finish it all, babe."

Wait… Had he bought pork these past few days?