We Woke up after a Stag Party and Realized That the Groom Disappeared — Story of the Day

Malcolm wakes up with no memory of the night after a bachelor party and discovers that the groom has disappeared. Determined, he decides to find the groom and bring him back before the wedding starts. But everything changes when Malcolm is accused of being involved in the groom's disappearance.

In a disheveled hotel room, Malcolm woke up to the chaos of Tom's bachelor party aftermath. Stumbling across the mess, he tried to rouse Dave from his slumber.

"Dave, Dave, Dave," Malcolm croaked, shaking Dave's shoulders. When shaking didn't work, Malcolm slapped Dave's cheek with urgency.

"Dave!" he shouted, causing Dave to jerk awake, confused and clutching his head.

Malcolm found a bottle of water and drank desperately. Dave, looking just as rough, asked, "Feeling alright?"

Malcolm replied with a pained chuckle, "Feels like a truck ran over me."

"Same," Dave replied, grimacing as he tried to stand, only to sink back down. "I'll just sit a while longer."

"Everything hurts," Malcolm echoed, looking at his bruised reflection in the mirror.

"We need to wake up Tom and get out of this hotel before the maid comes," Dave remembered.

"Agreed, Tom!" Malcolm began searching the room. "Tom! Tom!" he yelled, with no response.

Dave winced at the volume. "Don't yell like that, my head is splitting," he complained, covering his ears with his hands.

"Tom!" Malcolm continued searching. "Where is he? Tom!"

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Dave asked.

"Not a thing," Malcolm admitted with frustration.

"Neither do I," Dave confessed.

As Malcolm confirmed Tom was nowhere to be found, Dave optimistically suggested, "He must have gone to get us breakfast; I'll call him." However, the hope in his heart turned to dismay as he searched his pockets. All he found were poker chips.

"Or you call him. I can't find my phone." Struggling to his feet, Dave started a clumsy search through the night's debris.

Malcolm urgently dialed Tom's number but was met with a disconnected tone. "His phone is off," he informed Dave.

"We need to find him, the wedding is tomorrow," Dave remarked, considering the gravity of their situation.

"Let's go to the casino; maybe he stayed there," Malcolm suggested.

In the elevator, Malcolm held an ice pack to his nose, trying to ease the pain. The makeshift bandage did little to ease the throbbing pain.

"Why don't we remember anything?" Dave broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Because we clearly had a blast," Malcolm joked.

Exiting into the hotel lobby, they encountered police officers. "Malcolm Davis?" one of the officers asked sternly.

"Yes. Is there a problem, officer?" Malcolm replied, trying to maintain composure.

Dave joked nervously, "Are we being arrested for having a great party last night?"

The officer’s face remained impassive. "Mr. Davis, please turn around. You are being detained on suspicion of murdering Tom Bretford."

"What? Murder?" Malcolm and Dave were both shocked.

"Mr. Davis, please don't complicate matters, turn around," the officer insisted firmly.

Malcolm, panicked, told Dave, "You have to believe me. I didn't do this."

With no other option, Malcolm bolted back into the hotel as the officers ordered him to stop. He raced through the lobby, dodging into the laundry room to hide.

After evading the officers, he cautiously exited the hotel through the back, catching a taxi to the casino, driven by the need to uncover the truth.

Upon reaching the casino, Malcolm was struck by the sight of police tape cordoning off an area. He stepped out and moved towards a bloodstain on the ground. "This must be where it happened," he thought.

Suddenly, a disheveled man approached, reeking of alcohol. "What are you staring at?" he growled, moving past Malcolm into the taped-off area.

Malcolm followed cautiously. "I'm not sure you're allowed in there," he warned.

"My stuff's in there. I'm not leaving it just because two idiots fought here last night," the man retorted.

"Did you see anything?" Malcolm asked, hopeful for any clues.

"I don't talk to cops," the man said suspiciously.

"I'm not a cop," Malcolm explained. "I was one of the guys here last night... probably... I don't remember anything, but if you saw something, it could really help."

The man seemed to recognize Malcolm then. "Are you the one who was cheated on or the one who she cheated with?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" Malcolm followed, confused.

"You guys are hilarious. Started a fight because you couldn't share a girl," the man chuckled without joy. "One of you yelled that the other slept with his fiancée," he added.

"No, no, he couldn't have found out," Malcolm whispered, realization dawning.

"Ah, so you're the one she cheated with," the man inferred, almost sympathetically.

"What happened next?" Malcolm pressed, desperate for details.

"The other guy jumped on you and started beating you up. You just yelled: 'Let's talk, let's talk.' But when he had beaten you up well, you finally fought back, and how! I felt like I was in a cinema," the man recounted vividly.

"So, I killed him?" Malcolm asked, horrified.

"Have a fear of God! What killing? He fell. You said you'd take a walk because you didn't want to fight with him and left," the man corrected, easing Malcolm's fears.

"So, he was alive when I left?" Malcolm sought confirmation, hope flickering.

"Of course, alive, with a black eye, but alive. But your friend didn't disappoint me, after all," the man said cryptically.

"What are you talking about?" Malcolm's confusion deepened.

"He took out a knife and cut his arm. That's why there's so much blood here," the man explained, mixing amusement with disbelief.

"Why would he do that?" Malcolm was puzzled over Tom's actions.

"How should I know? He then tied a tourniquet around his arm. What normal person carries a tourniquet with them?" the man mused.

"Can you tell the police about this?" Malcolm implored, desperate to clear his name.

"I don't talk to cops!" the man said flatly.

"Please," Malcolm begged. "You don't understand. They think I killed him."

"Figure it out yourself, kid. I'm not getting involved," the man said as he left the alley, leaving Malcolm with a thousand unanswered questions.

Emerging from the alley, Malcolm felt the weight of the morning's discoveries pressing heavily on his shoulders. He immediately called Dave.

"Malcolm. Where are you?" Dave asked, worry clear in his voice.

"It doesn't matter. I found out something about last night. Tom was alive when I last saw him," Malcolm explained.

"But the police said an anonymous witness claimed they saw you killing Tom. That's why they started their investigation," Dave revealed, shaking Malcolm.

Malcolm was stunned. "I don't understand what happened last night. Did the police say anything else?" he inquired, desperate for answers.

"Yes. They haven't found a body or a murder weapon. They think you hid them somewhere," Dave responded. "I think you need to turn yourself in to the police."

Realizing it was all a setup, Malcolm decided against turning himself in. "No, Dave. I can't. I know what I need to do," he said determinedly, then ended the call and smashed his phone.

Now, Malcolm understood that Tom was framing him, but he had no idea why. While thinking about Tom's motives, it hit Malcolm that Tom must be planning to disappear. If that were true, he'd need a lot of money, and Malcolm knew where Tom would try to get it.

He hailed a taxi and thought, "I need to get to the hotel before Tom does," as he raced to intercept Liz's parents' final wedding payment to Tom.

Arriving near the hotel, Malcolm saw police scrutiny and knew he couldn't enter as himself. Spotting an elderly woman, he decided to disguise himself.

"I'm really sorry to ask, but could we swap clothes? I'll pay you," Malcolm proposed. At first, the elderly woman disagreed, but Malcolm's pleas and a wad of bills made her exchange clothes with him in a cafe.

With his new disguise, Malcolm approached the hotel to confront Tom and clear his name.

"May I see your documents, ma'am?" an officer asked Malcolm.

"Why do you need them?" Malcolm asked, mimicking the elderly woman's voice.

"I need to verify your identity," the officer said.

Malcolm seized the moment to escalate the situation dramatically, aiming to distract and confuse the officer. "Trying to hit on me?!" he accused his voice a mix of outrage and disbelief.

"No, ma'am..."

"Pervert! What kind of world do we live in? I pay a lot of money to rest in a hotel! And you want me to show you my documents?! I'm calling the police," Malcolm said.

Dressed as a frail woman, Malcolm created a scene and succeeded in gaining entry into the hotel.

Inside, he took the elevator to Liz's floor. His heart pounded as he knocked on her door, quickly revealing his identity to a shocked Liz. "Liz, it's me," he disclosed urgently.

"Malcolm? What are you doing here?" Liz responded, bewildered.

"Tom is trying to frame me, and I think I know his next move," Malcolm explained. "I didn't kill Tom. He framed me. It's somehow related to us sleeping together."

Liz, pale, directed him to the wedding funds. "I told him. I told Tom that we slept together. But he reacted normally," she admitted.

"Why did you tell him?" Malcolm asked.

"I couldn't start our marriage with a lie," Liz explained, calling their night together a mistake.

Malcolm approached the table, his hands shaking as he swapped the envelope with another from his jacket.

"What are you doing?" Liz asked, confused.

"No time to explain. The police could arrive at any moment. So, our night together was just a mistake to you?" Malcolm was hurt.

Instead of answering his question, Liz went inside the bathroom. Moments later, she emerged and said, "Forgive me, Malcolm."

"Forgive? For what?" Malcolm was confused.

The door burst open before she could answer, and police officers flooded the room. Malcolm's heart sank as he realized the trap he'd walked into. "How could you, Liz…" he murmured, feeling betrayed as he escaped out the window, the officers hot on his heels.

Caught with nowhere to run, Malcolm surrendered to the police, hiding the envelope of money behind a trash can. Soon, he was in an interrogation room, face-to-face with a skeptical detective.

"Malcolm, let's not make life harder for either of us. Just tell me where the body is," the detective urged.

"I didn't kill him. Nobody killed him. He's alive! And he bled himself," Malcolm insisted.

"And you got this information from…?" the detective prodded.

"A homeless man," Malcolm admitted reluctantly, aware of how it sounded.

"Oh, of course. A very reliable source," the detective mocked, dismissing Malcolm's claim.

"You have to believe me! Tom is alive!" Malcolm pleaded.

Just then, news came in that shifted the course of the interrogation. "We just got information that Tom was caught trying to pay with counterfeit money," the detective revealed.

"It's him. I swapped the money for a fake. I knew Tom would need money to flee," Malcolm explained, detailing his plan to use fake casino props as a trap.

"You're detained until we make sure it's really Tom, and he's really alive," the detective concluded, leaving Malcolm alone with his thoughts.

Later, the detective returned with updates. Tom had been caught trying to buy a plane ticket with counterfeit money, and under questioning, he confessed to being the anonymous witness and to staging his own murder scene.

"But I don't understand why he did all this," the detective admitted.

"Because I slept with his fiancée," Malcolm confessed, the weight of his actions hanging heavily in the air.

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