The Wind That Knows My Heart

The sound of Evelyn’s saccharine giggles greeted me as I descended the stairs. The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, bathing the room in a glow far too warm and cheerful for the coldness within me.

“You need your brother to feed you breakfast?” she teased, her voice playful yet laced with something sharper.

Harry chuckled helplessly, his smile indulgent as he picked up a doughnut and held it to her lips. “Here, eat,” he said, his tone affectionate.

But instead of taking a simple bite, Evelyn leaned forward and sucked his fingers, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Mmm,” she purred, her eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Evelyn!” Harry exclaimed, flustered. He reached out to tickle her and the kitchen was soon filled with their laughter, a sound that grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

But when he looked up and met my eyes, the laughter died. The air shifted, heavy with unease. Harry quickly pushed Evelyn aside and walked toward me, his expression suddenly full of concern.

“Honey,” he began, his voice soft. “Are you feeling better today? Look—I bought you your favorite breakfast: doughnuts.”

Before I could respond, Evelyn inserted herself between us, her smile bright but her eyes sharp. “Sister, look how thoughtful Harry is! He went out early this morning just for you.” She gestured to the table, where an assortment of breakfast items lay neatly arranged. “Doughnuts, tofu pudding, peanut milk—all your favorites! No wonder you’re so full of life and… curves.”

She grinned, her words dripping with mockery disguised as sweetness. “Who wouldn’t be envious of being spoiled like this every day?”

I ignored her jabs and turned my focus to Harry, my voice calm but edged with steel. “Hubby, have you forgotten? I’m allergic to peanut milk.”

The color drained from his face and he stammered, “I—I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

I brushed past them both and sat down at the dining table, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. Breakfast, which should have been an intimate moment between two people, became a noisy circus of three.

***

After breakfast, Evelyn handed me a small, ornately wrapped box. “Sister,” she said, her tone falsely sweet, “thank you for letting me stay over last night. This is a gift I prepared just for you. I know you’ll love it.”

Her smile widened, but there was something sinister in her gaze, as if she were savoring a private joke.

Before I could respond, Harry chimed in. “Honey, I’ll drive Evelyn home. You stay here and rest, okay?”

I watched silently as the two of them left. Once the car disappeared down the street, I turned my attention to the gift box. I hesitated, my heart pounding as a sense of dread crept over me. Slowly, I lifted the lid.

A pungent scent hit me immediately—heather flowers, their sweetness cloying and oppressive. Beneath them, my stomach churned at the sight of what was inside: used condoms, neatly piled, an obscene testament to their infidelity.

My hands shook as I sifted through the box, only to find something worse—a USB drive. I plugged it into my laptop and the screen was flooded with video clips. One by one, they played, each more damning than the last.

There they were: Evelyn and Harry. In cars. In pools. On my bed. Their naked bodies tangled in passion, their moans echoing in my ears like a cruel mockery of everything I thought was real.

My chest constricted and I fell to the floor, clutching my stomach as sobs wracked my body.

***

Memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

Harry, I thought bitterly, you were the one who pulled me from the darkness. You made me believe in love after my father’s betrayal drove my mother to despair. You promised me a life of happiness, a life free of lies. And now this?

My nails dug into my palms as I tried to contain the agony tearing through me. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to feel something—anything—that could match the pain inside.

I bolted upright and ran upstairs. Like a woman possessed, I began destroying every trace of him. The gifts he’d given me? Smashed. The wedding photos on the wall? Shattered. The love letters he wrote? Torn to shreds.

My rampage continued until I stumbled upon his pregnancy preparation diary. It sat innocently on his desk, its pages filled with meticulous notes.

I flipped through it, my hands trembling. There were detailed records of every stage of my IVF treatments—my hormone levels, my diet, even my mental state. His careful handwriting filled every page, his concern seemingly genuine.

The sight of it only deepened the gaping hole in my chest. Was any of this real? I wondered. How could a man act so convincingly? To promise me the world, only to shatter it while holding someone else in his arms?

The diary slipped from my hands as I sank to the floor, curling into myself. My tears fell freely, soaking the fabric of my clothes. I had nothing left—no strength, no hope. Just a hollow shell of the woman I used to be.

As I sat there, drowning in despair, a single thought emerged from the chaos in my mind: Five more days. Just five more days and I’ll be gone forever.

The countdown had begun.