24/07/2025
😭I Found Out on Our Wedding Night That His First Wife Was My Missing Sister”
If I die today, let it be known that I was never looking for trouble.
All I wanted was to love, be loved, and build a family.
But on the night I became a wife… I found out I had married into my own nightmare.
My name is Chiamaka, and I was born the second of three daughters. But growing up, people treated me like the first — because my eldest sister, Adanne, disappeared when I was just six.
She was thirteen at the time. She left for school and never returned. No letter. No ransom. No body. Just silence.
My mother cried until her eyes changed colour. My father started drinking.
After two years, my family buried an empty coffin and told us to “move on.”
But I never did.
Even on my wedding day, when the band was playing and my friends were dancing around me, a part of me still imagined that Adanne would walk in, smiling, holding a plate of rice, and say,
Chi baby, so you’re a wife now?”
But she didn’t.
Instead, I married Obinna — the man my heart chose.
He was gentle. Wealthy. Caring.
He supported my family without blinking. He called my mother “mama” like she was his own.
When he told me he was once married, but his wife died during childbirth, I felt pity for him.
I didn’t ask too many questions.
I didn’t even press to know her name.
Because I believed the dead should rest.
I didn’t know I was the one about to wake her.
That night, after all the guests left, Obinna carried me into our new house — a mansion in Abakaliki that looked like something out of a film.
He opened a special room for me — soft lighting, flower petals on the bed, slow music…
Then he said:
“Before we sleep, there’s someone I want you to see.”
He pulled out a small photo frame from a drawer and placed it in my hands.
And my heart stopped.
Because staring back at me… was Adanne.
My missing sister.
Her smile. Her dimple. The small scar on her eyebrow from when she fell off Papa’s bicycle.