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.