Part 2: 👇👇🙏❤️
“Dad, what are you doing?!”
My voice came out louder than I intended.
My father-in-law froze.
For the first time that night, my husband also sat up.
His father looked almost offended.
“I’m arranging you properly.”
“Arranging me?”
“For the blessing.”
I pulled the blanket tightly around myself.
“What blessing requires you to keep touching me?”
My husband immediately looked uncomfortable.
“Dad, maybe that’s enough.”
His father turned toward him.
“You know how this works.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
Silence filled the room.
I looked directly at my husband.
“You told me he only had to sleep between us.”
My husband avoided my eyes.
That was when my stomach dropped.
“There’s more?”
He rubbed his face.
“It’s just an old family ritual.”
“What ritual?”
My father-in-law answered instead.
“The bride has to sleep facing away from the groom until three in the morning.”
I stared at him.
“And?”
“At three, the elder gives the final blessing.”
I felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Neither man answered.
I pushed myself completely out of bed.
“No. I’m done.”
My husband reached for my wrist.
“Please don’t make this bigger than it is.”
I pulled away.
“Your father came into our bridal room, climbed into our bed, and keeps touching me. How exactly am I making this bigger?”
My father-in-law stood.
His expression changed.
The friendly older man who had smiled through our wedding photographs was suddenly gone.
“You married into this family.”
“And?”
“You respect our customs.”
“I respect people. I don’t blindly obey anything someone calls a custom.”
My husband whispered my name.
I looked at him.
“Did you know about all of this before tonight?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
“You knew.”
“I thought you’d refuse if I told you.”
The room went completely still.
I stared at the man I had married only hours earlier.
“You hid it from me because you knew I would say no?”
He stood.
“I just wanted tonight to go smoothly.”
I laughed.
Nothing about it was funny.
“You wanted me trapped.”
“No.”
“You waited until after the wedding, after everyone was here, after I was exhausted, and then you brought your father into our bed.”
“It isn’t like that.”
“Then explain what three o’clock means.”
My father-in-law glanced at the digital clock.
2:47 a.m.
Thirteen minutes.
Something about the way he looked at it made my skin crawl.
I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.
My husband stepped closer.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t walk out on our wedding night.”
“Watch me.”
My father-in-law moved toward the door before I could reach it.
He locked it.
The click sounded impossibly loud.
I stopped.
My husband stared at him.
“Dad.”
“Sit down.”
My pulse exploded.
“Unlock that door.”
He ignored me.
“Dad,” my husband repeated, louder this time.
His father turned.
“If she leaves before the blessing, everyone downstairs will know.”
I looked at my husband.
“Know what?”
He went pale.
His father answered.
“That she rejected the family.”
I almost laughed again.
“Good.”
Then his expression hardened.
“You don’t understand what happens after that.”
I gripped my phone.
“What happens?”
My husband finally spoke.
“Dad, stop.”
“What happens?” I demanded.
My father-in-law looked directly at me.
“The marriage can’t be recognized by the elders.”
I stared at him.
“We signed a marriage certificate.”
“This is bigger than paper.”
“No, it isn’t.”
He took another step.
I stepped backward.
My husband moved between us.
“Dad, enough.”
That surprised both of us.
His father’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re choosing her over your family already?”
My husband looked at me.
Then back at him.
“She said stop.”
It was the first thing he had done all night that made me feel slightly less alone.
His father’s face darkened.
“You’ll regret embarrassing me.”
My husband reached for the lock.
His father grabbed his arm.
The two men stared at each other.
Then my husband said very quietly:
“Let go.”
His father did.
My husband unlocked the door.
I immediately walked into the hallway.
Behind me, I heard my father-in-law say:
“If she walks out now, don’t blame me for what happens next.”
I stopped.
Not because I was frightened into staying.
Because of something in his voice.
It didn’t sound like a threat made in anger.
It sounded like a warning about something already planned.
I turned.
“What happens next?”
My husband looked panicked.
His father smiled.
“You’ll find out.”
I left anyway.
The hallway was almost empty.
Most of the wedding guests had gone to their rooms.
I still wore part of my bridal outfit. My hair was falling apart, my makeup was smeared, and I didn’t care.
I just needed air.
I made it halfway toward the elevators when an older woman stepped out of a nearby room.
My husband’s aunt.
She looked at me.
Then at the time.
2:54 a.m.
Her expression changed.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I’m going home.”
She grabbed my arm.
“Before three?”
I pulled away.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
She stared at me.
“Didn’t they tell you?”
“No.”
Her face went pale.
“Oh.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She glanced down the hallway toward the bridal room.
Then lowered her voice.
“You need to leave this floor.”
My stomach tightened.
“I’m trying to.”
“No. I mean now.”
“What happens at three?”
She didn’t answer.
“Auntie, please.”
The clock on the wall changed.
2:56.
She looked terrified.
Then she whispered:
“My sister-in-law went through the same ritual.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
“Your husband’s first wife.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“His what?”
The woman covered her mouth.
Too late.
I stared at her.
“My husband was married before?”
She looked as though she wanted to disappear.
“He told us you knew.”
“I did not know.”
My hands began shaking.
“What happened to her?”
The aunt looked toward the bridal room again.
“She left the family.”
“When?”
“After their wedding night.”
My heart pounded harder.
“Why?”
The woman didn’t answer.
I grabbed her hand.
“Please.”
Finally, she whispered:
“Because at three in the morning, she screamed.”
I felt cold.
“What happened?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Where is she now?”
The aunt’s eyes filled with fear.
“No one knows.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean no one knows?”
“She disappeared two days later.”
I stopped breathing.
Then the elevator doors opened behind us.
A woman stepped out.
Young.
Maybe in her early thirties.
She wore a dark coat and carried no luggage.
The aunt saw her.
Her face went completely white.
“No…”
The woman looked directly at me.
Then at my wedding dress.
“Are you his new wife?”
I couldn’t speak.
She stepped closer.
“You need to come with me.”
“Who are you?”
Her eyes moved toward the bridal-room door.
Then back to me.
“I’m the woman who disappeared.”
My entire body went cold.
My husband’s first wife.
Alive.
Standing in front of me.
Before I could ask another question, she grabbed my hand.
“Listen carefully.”
Her voice was shaking.
“If his father is in that room, you cannot go back inside.”
“Why?”
She looked at the wall clock.
2:58 a.m.
“Because the story about blessing a son is a lie.”
My stomach twisted.
“What is the ritual really about?”
She opened her mouth—
but someone shouted behind us.
My husband.
He was running down the hallway.
“Wait!”
The woman beside me flinched.
“Go.”
My husband reached us.
He saw her.
Then stopped dead.
His face lost all color.
“You.”
She stared at him.
“You told her I was dead, didn’t you?”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
He said nothing.
His first wife looked at me.
“He doesn’t know everything either.”
My mind was spinning.
“Then somebody tell me!”
The wall clock clicked.
2:59.
The woman looked at it.
Then toward the bridal room.
“We’re too late.”
At exactly 3:00 a.m., every light on the floor went out.
I heard a door open behind us.
Then my father-in-law’s voice came through the darkness.
Calm.
Almost cheerful.
“The blessing can begin now.”
My husband’s first wife squeezed my hand so hard it hurt.
And whispered:
“Whatever happens, don’t let him take you downstairs.”
I could barely breathe.
“Why?”
Her answer came in a whisper.
“Because that’s where he took me.”
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