His voice was gentle.
Almost comforting.
“You must never look beneath this bed.”
He paused.
“Never sweep under it.”
“And never allow anyone to move it.”
I laughed softly, waiting for the punchline.
It never came.
His expression didn’t change.
“My grandfather placed something important beneath this bed many years ago,” he continued.
“It protects our family… our wealth… and every marriage that begins in this room.”
Then he gently touched my cheek.
“If any wife ever sees what’s under there…”
“…misfortune follows.”
I smiled awkwardly.
Part of me wanted to ask more questions.
Another part decided it wasn’t worth starting an argument over something that sounded like an old family superstition.
So I nodded.
“It won’t be a problem.”
His smile returned instantly.
“Thank you.”
From that day on, every Saturday morning, he cleaned our bedroom himself.
