My name is Janet, and my husband Mark is a psychology professor. We’ve been married ten years. He’s often forgetful—like this morning, when he left his lunch behind. Since I had the day off, I decided to take it to him at the university.
When I arrived, Mark was mid-lecture, so I quietly sat in the back to watch. That’s when I heard him say, “To prove the point, I recreated the experiment on my wife.” I froze.
On screen appeared a video of me recounting a childhood memory—getting lost in a mall. But that never happened. Mark had planted the memory in my mind for weeks as part of an experiment, without my consent. His slides labeled me with degrading traits, and his students were now watching in fascination.
Furious and humiliated, I stood up and confronted him. “What if your wife found out?” I asked loudly. His face went pale. He stammered about science and educational value, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
He tried to justify it: false memory implantation, a scientific breakthrough. But all I saw was betrayal. “You used me. You never asked. You made me question my own mind,” I said.
He apologized, claiming he didn’t think it would hurt me. But the damage was done. I no longer recognized the man I had married.
I walked out, heart pounding—his experiment had destroyed more than just trust. It shattered our relationship.