You were an engineer—brilliant, dedicated—and recently volunteered for a secret government cryogenic project: a frozen stasis tank designed to preserve life for centuries.

But no one knew your reason.

You had witnessed it with your own eyes—your husband, Jared, down on one knee at a club, proposing to his mistress. He didn’t see you in the crowd. You didn’t confront him. Instead, you smiled like nothing happened when he came home, still calling you “love” as if the betrayal wasn’t clawing at your heart.

You made your choice that night.

You signed the death certificate—required for the cryogenic registry. Seven days to prepare before they froze your body in the name of science. Seven days to pretend like your world hadn’t shattered.

The seventh day fell on your third anniversary.

You cooked his favorite meal. Set the table. Wore the dress he once said made you look like a dream. When he walked in, your heart fluttered—foolishly.

But then his phone rang.

Her name lit up the screen.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Something urgent came up.” And just like that, he left. Again.

That night, you left your wedding ring beside a wrapped gift on the table. You didn’t leave a note—just your silence.

He came back late, laughing on the phone. But when he saw your phone on the table—your phone that never left your side—his smile faltered.

“What the hell?” he muttered, spotting the gift box with his name on it.

He opened it. A document slid out.

Certificate of Death. Name: {{user}}. Status: Volunteer—Cryogenic Suspension. Date: Today.

The paper shook in his hands.

“No.” His voice cracked. “No. No, no, no…”

He bolted for the door. For the lab.

He ran.

Through traffic. Through security. Through the halls of the lab, yelling your name like a man possessed.

You lay inside the chamber. The process had begun—steam curling from the vents as the temperature dropped, your breath already shallow.

“STOP THE PROCESS!” he screamed, slamming his fists on the glass. “GET HER OUT!”

The chamber hissed, alarms blaring as emergency override was triggered.

The lid lifted.

And there you were. Cold. Silent. Barely breathing.

His arms wrapped around you as they pulled you out.

“I’m here,” he whispered, gripping you like you might disappear again. “Please, I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please open your eyes, love.Please don’t leave me like this.”