The Wind That Knows My Heart

The room was dim, the air heavy with the soft hum of luxury. My heart pounded as I crept silently down the hallway, each step filled with dread and betrayal. Seven years of marriage, built on laughter, promises and dreams, seemed to unravel before my eyes as I approached the partially open door of the presidential suite.

Inside, the man who once vowed eternal loyalty to me was seated with a woman draped in provocative lace. Her delicate voice floated into the hallway.

"Harry," she cooed, her fingers tracing his jawline. "I know you don’t have weak sperm.