The sister in my bed

Lauren slipped out the front door just as the clock struck midnight, her heels in one hand and guilt in the other. The house was quiet — too quiet — save for the slow ticking of the wall clock and the sound of her own breath. Behind her, in the master bedroom, her husband Jordan slept soundly. Or so she hoped. In his place, beside him under the covers, was her sister Stella — a desperate cover for a night built on lies. It was David’s birthday, and Lauren was determined to be the first face he saw. Stella’s in bed with Jordan. Just for a few hours. What could possibly go wrong? 

Lauren had never meant for it to last this long, what started as a spark with David had become a wildfire she couldn’t put out. Afterall, it’s been years since Lauren and Jordan ran away to get married- years that had dulled the thrill, blurred the love, and carved silent spaces between them. On the eve of David’s birthday, Lauren had called her younger sister, Stella, to ask for a favor she could hardly speak out loud. 

“I just need a few hours, Stella. Stay with him. If he wakes up, tell him I went to get medicine or something,” Lauren said, trying to sound casual but her voice trembled. Stella is appalled. “Lauren are you sure you want to do this? You know he’s-”. 

“Please,” Lauren cut her off before she could finish, her voice low and pleading. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”  

Stella hesitated. She should’ve said no. But she didn’t. Not because she supported the affair- but because she saw a twisted opportunity. She had been in love with Jordan long before Lauren ever knew him. Agreeing to stay in that bed wasn’t just loyalty. It was desire. 

Jordan hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. There was a quiet shift in the way Lauren touched him — a distracted kiss, a distant hug, her phone always face-down. He had no proof, but his gut twisted every time she left the room to “take a call.” So, when he stirred in the middle of the night and instinctively reached out, his hand brushed against someone — but the softness, the warmth — it wasn’t Lauren. He sat up in the darkness, his heart pounding, confusion sharpening into suspicion. 

“Lauren?” he called out, his voice low and rough. 

“It’s me… Stella,” came the hesitant reply. 

He blinked into the dim light, disbelief crawling across his face. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?” 

The silence stretched. And then, without thinking — or maybe thinking far too much — Stella leaned into the lie Lauren had buried her in. But her voice betrayed more than truth. It betrayed intention. 

Stella sat up slowly, clutching the sheet to her chest as if it could shield her from what she was about to do — or maybe from how much she’d wanted this moment all along. “She’s not coming back tonight,” she said quietly. Jordan stared at her, the weight of those words settling like a stone in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice low, dangerous. 

Stella looked away, hesitating just long enough to seem conflicted. Then she let it out. “She’s with someone else, Jordan. His name is David. It’s been going on for months.” 

For a second, Jordan just sat there — frozen. Then his face changed, confusion giving way to dawning horror. David. Not just any David. David Carter. His best friend from high school. The guy who gave a speech at their wedding. The one who stood next to him in old photos, arms slung around shoulders, a bond built over years of brotherhood. 

“David Carter?” he asked, the words leaving his mouth like glass. 

Stella nodded once. 

Jordan’s face tightened, pain crashing through him like a wave. Stella saw it — and twisted the knife a little further. “Tonight… she went to celebrate his birthday. That’s why I’m here. To cover for her.” 

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Stella wanted to reach out, to touch his hand, to be the comforting presence he might now need. But Jordan was already retreating inward, the betrayal sinking in, layer by layer — not just from his wife, but from the man he once called a brother. 

The front door clicked softly at dawn. Lauren tiptoed in, her heels dangling from her fingers, a faint trace of perfume still clinging to her. She looked exhausted but satisfied — the kind of glow she hadn’t worn around Jordan in months. She padded toward the bedroom and gently tapped the door. 

“Stella… get up. You need to go before he wakes up,” she whispered urgently. 

But the moment the door creaked open, she froze. Jordan was already standing in the middle of the room, fully awake, arms crossed, eyes bloodshot — and filled with betrayal. 

“Too late,” he said, voice cold, flat. 

Lauren’s smile vanished. Her eyes flicked to Stella, who stood awkwardly near the bed, fully dressed now but pale. The air turned heavy, like the moment before a thunderstorm broke. 

“Jordan, I can expla—” 

“Don’t. Just stop lying to my face,” he snapped. “David? Really?” 

Lauren’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. 

“My best friend,” he spat. “You didn’t just cheat on me. You gutted everything we built, and you let him do it with you.” 

The room crackled with the rawness of it all — three people, bound by blood and vows, now torn apart by secrets and selfishness. 

Lauren stood frozen, as if denial could somehow rewind the last few seconds. But Jordan’s eyes — red-rimmed and trembling with fury — were unflinching. She took a step forward. “Jordan… I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I was lonely. You were distant. We stopped talking, stopped touching—” 

“So you slept with him?” Jordan’s voice cracked, the pain seeping through the anger now. “You didn’t just break us, Lauren. You broke me.” 

Jordan looked at Stella like she was a stranger. “You were in my bed, Stella. You didn’t protect me. You let me drown, just so you could be the one holding the life vest.” 

The silence that followed was brutal — not the quiet of peace, but the kind that settles after something shatters beyond repair. 

They didn’t argue when he asked them to leave. There was nothing left to say. Lauren, still trying to hold together the pieces with shaking hands, gathered her things. Stella followed without a word. The front door clicked shut behind them. 

For the first time in hours, the house was still. 

Jordan sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor where everything had come undone. His phone buzzed softly — a message from Alex: 

“Still on for that hiking trip next weekend? Could use the escape.” 

Jordan stared at the screen. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, he typed: “Yeah. Count me in.” 

It wasn’t much. But it was his. His choice. His beginning. 

Later, he stood by the window, coffee in hand, watching the morning unfold outside — a world still moving, even though his own had changed. He looked around the house that still held memories, both beautiful and broken. He didn’t throw anything out. Not yet. But he knew: this chapter was over. 

And he was finally ready to write the next one. 

Comment Question:

If you were Jordan, who would you confront first — the wife who betrayed you, or the sister who stayed in your bed?
And could you ever forgive either of them?

Let’s talk trust, betrayal, and where the line really gets crossed.