The Wind

The wind. I remember the wind just as well as I remember his words. It was warm and balmy, a slightly musty caress against my skin, tousling my hair into mild dishevelment. It blew from my right, forcing me to close one eye until I could tuck the invading hair behind one ear. If anything it lent a romantic air to a scene where my heart broke into a thousand pieces, none able to fit into the one next to it because each fracture had itself been fractured and shards lay everywhere.

He held out his hand just as the sun begun to set, imploring me with his eyes to believe what he would say next. I took his hand and even before he could speak, I started hoping I would believe him. He had refused to unlock his phone for me. He knew what was on my phone. We were going nowhere fast. His small eyes seemed smaller, contracted by the lies he had spewed with some degree of effort for the past hour. A quieter part of me even appreciated the fact that he had tried to explain away his guilt. None of it made sense.

‘She has been in love with me for a long time. She is having a hard time letting go.’ He breathed. He sounded vulnerable, trying to get me to empathise with the woman he had been in bed with just that morning, swearing blind that he loved her and not me.

“You are being irrational over some bad photoshop job and unfounded rumours.” He was now slightly winded. It amazed me that he didn’t realise I was the only one who could have taken those photos. So caught up was he in his own lie that even as his left cheek trembled under the weight of the deceit his face had to bear, reason eluded him. He stepped forward and kissed my forehead.

Our guests, resplendent in their wedding attire, had already started dancing in the sand at the beach straddling the Indian Ocean. They must have thought we were up in our suite consummating our marriage.

I handed him back his phone as a torrent of messages vibrated it but he tossed it aside. A strange acceptance enveloped me where there should have been forgiveness. This is what I had signed up for. Yes, I had said till death did us part. A small wellspring of rage started to bubble in the depth just below my ribs. He tried his best to look uninterested in the phone despite unceasing sideways glances at it. I lifted my left hand and unclipped the veil from my hair, shaking it lightly before placing it on the bed next to his phone that was now lighting up with calls from an unsaved number. I was sure of only one thing in that moment; that I would punish him. As we danced into our colourful reception venue to cheers, I resolved that the punishment would be painful.