On our wedding night, I hid under the bed to prank my husband.

It was stupid. Immature.
But I wanted to break the tension—laugh, scream, jump out, something normal after a day that felt unreal.

I slipped off my heels, crouched down, and slid beneath the bed, my heart racing with anticipation.

The room was dim.
The sheets hung low, brushing my cheek.
I held my breath.

The door opened.

Footsteps.

But something was wrong immediately.

They were too light.
Too careful.

My husband was tall. Heavy-footed.

This person wasn’t.

I froze.

The footsteps stopped near the bed.

Then I heard a phone unlock.

A click.

Speakerphone.

A man’s voice filled the room—calm, familiar, terrifying.

“Did you make sure she didn’t see you?”

My blood turned to ice.

A woman answered softly.

“No. She thinks he went to shower.”

My lungs burned. I pressed my hand over my mouth.

The man on the phone continued,
“Good. We don’t need complications tonight.”

The woman laughed quietly.
“She’s so trusting. Always has been.”

I recognized that voice.

My sister.

The man on the phone sighed.
“Once the papers are signed tomorrow, everything transfers. The marriage gives us the final leverage.”

My vision blurred.

“Did you check the room?” he asked.

“Yes,” my sister said casually. “She’s not here.”

The bed dipped slightly as she sat down.

Right above me.

“After tonight,” the man said, “she won’t matter anymore.”

My heart was pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it.

“She won’t remember a thing,” my sister replied. “The drink worked last time. It’ll work again.”

Silence.

Then the man said the words that shattered me completely:

“Make sure she doesn’t wake up married.”

I stopped breathing.

The phone clicked off.

My sister stood up.

She walked toward the door.

Before she left, she said one last thing—almost bored:

“Some people really shouldn’t trust family.”

The door closed.

I lay frozen under the bed, shaking, tears soaking into the carpet.

This wasn’t a prank anymore.

It was a trap.

And if I hadn’t decided to hide—

I wouldn’t have heard the truth.

I wouldn’t be alive to remember it.