I Visited My Husband’s University Class – When I Saw My Face on His Lecture Slide, I Gasped

When I decided to surprise my husband by delivering his forgotten lunch to his university class, I never expected to stumble upon a nightmare. Seeing my own face on his lecture slide, described in the most humiliating terms, I knew our marriage would never be the same.

My name is Janet, and my husband, Mark, is a psychology professor at the local university. We’ve been married for ten years. Mark can be quite forgetful, often leaving his lunch at home. This morning was no different.

“Mark, you forgot your lunch again,” I sighed, holding up the brown paper bag.

“Sorry, honey,” he mumbled, already engrossed in his notes.

Since I had the day off, I decided to take it to him. It was a simple gesture, and I thought it might brighten his day. Little did I know, it would lead to a shocking revelation.

The university campus was bustling with students, all rushing to their classes. The sun shone brightly, and the air was filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. I felt a mix of nostalgia and curiosity as I walked through the grounds, holding Mark’s lunch.

When I found the right auditorium, I peeked in. Mark was still lecturing. He hadn’t noticed me, so I decided to sit at the back and listen. It had been a while since I’d seen him in his element, and I thought it might be fun.

The auditorium was large, with rows of seats sloping down towards the stage. The students seemed engaged, their eyes fixed on Mark. I settled into a seat, trying to stay inconspicuous.

Mark was talking about psychological experiments, showing slides of various studies. He seemed animated, his voice clear and confident.

“To prove the point, I recreated the experiment on my wife,” he said suddenly.

My blood froze. What did he just say?

“Our subject, Janet, has an average IQ and the social awareness of a teenage girl. Testing this theory on her was not a hard task. Take a second to look at this video of her, and then we will discuss it.”

My face appeared on the screen, along with some unflattering characteristics written underneath. The room seemed to close in around me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My own husband had used me as a subject in his experiment without my knowledge.

The screen showed a video of me recounting a childhood memory of getting lost in a mall. But that never happened. I watched in horror as the video played on, interspersed with screenshots of our text conversations. Mark had been planting this false memory in my mind for weeks.

I felt a mix of anger, betrayal, and humiliation. How could he do this to me? How could he expose me like this in front of his students?

As the video ended, the students began to ask questions. My heart pounded, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I raised my hand, my voice shaking with rage.

“What if your wife were to find out about you experimenting on her? How do you think that would go for you?” I asked, my voice louder than I intended.

The students turned to look at me, and Mark’s face went pale. He recognized my voice and saw me sitting at the back. His confident demeanor crumbled.

“Janet, I—” he started, but I cut him off.

“I would say that she would understand that I love her and that whatever I did was for science and educational purposes. So she should be honored to take part in such a wonderful process of educating,” Mark stammered, trying to maintain his composure.

“Honored?” I said, my voice rising. “You humiliated me, violated my trust, and used our relationship for your experiment. How could you think any of this is honorable?”

The students were now fully focused on us. Mark looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“You never asked for my consent, never considered my feelings. You manipulated me for your gain. What kind of person does that?” I continued, my anger boiling over.

Mark looked down, visibly distressed. He took a deep breath and began to explain, his voice shaky but trying to maintain a semblance of authority.

“The experiment,” he started, “was about false memory implantation. It’s a psychological phenomenon where suggestive information can create memories that never actually happened. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been subtly suggesting to Janet a fictional event from her childhood: getting lost in a mall.”

He glanced at me, then back at the students. “I integrated these suggestions into our everyday conversations and text messages, gradually making the memory seem real to her.”

He pointed to the screen. “The video shows her recounting this false memory in detail. It’s a powerful demonstration of how malleable our memories can be.”

I could see the students were fascinated, but all I felt was rage and betrayal. “So, you tricked me into believing something that never happened? For what, a class experiment?” I demanded.

“Janet, it’s not just a trick. It’s a significant scientific finding,” Mark replied, trying to sound reasonable. “The documentation, the text messages, and the video all show how easily memories can be altered. It has real implications for understanding human psychology.”

“But at what cost, Mark?” I shot back, my voice breaking. “You used me without my consent. You made me question my own mind. How could you do that to someone you love?”

Mark’s face was ashen. “I didn’t think it would affect you this much. I thought you’d understand the importance of the experiment.”

I couldn’t believe his audacity. “Understand? You humiliated me in front of your students. You made me feel like a fool. This isn’t about science. It’s about respect and trust, and you shattered both.”

The students were silent, their eyes darting between Mark and me. Some looked uncomfortable, others intrigued. Mark tried to maintain control of the situation, but it was clear he was losing his grip.

“Janet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice pleading.

“You didn’t mean to hurt me?” I echoed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You filmed me, you manipulated me, and you showed it all to your class without my knowledge. That’s beyond hurtful, Mark. It’s a betrayal.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped. “I thought you would see the bigger picture.”

“The bigger picture?” I shouted. “The bigger picture is that you used me as a lab rat. You never considered how this would affect our relationship, our trust.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “You need to ask yourself what kind of person would do this to their spouse. Because right now, I don’t recognize the man I married.”

The room was dead silent. Mark looked like he wanted to disappear. I couldn’t stand to be there any longer.

I turned and walked out of the auditorium, my heart pounding. I could feel all eyes on me, but I didn’t care. The betrayal was too deep, the hurt too raw.

Outside, I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. My mind was racing with thoughts and emotions. How could Mark do this to me? How could he justify using me for his experiment?

As I walked to my car, I reflected on our marriage. Trust is the foundation of any relationship, and Mark had shattered that trust. I thought about the implications of his actions—not just the public humiliation, but the deeper betrayal of our bond.

Could our marriage survive this? Did I even want it to? These questions swirled in my mind as I drove home, unsure of what the future held. The man I thought I knew had shown a side of himself I never imagined, and it left me questioning everything.