The Girl who Found the Wind

A Single Mother

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Munguntuya stood at the edge of Khuvsgul Lake, the early morning air cold on her cheeks. The water looked like glass, perfectly still, almost too calm. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself:

“Today would be different.”

She had come here for a week-long break — the first real rest she’d taken in years. Between raising her son, running her tiny online shop, and helping her parents, she had forgotten what it felt like to breathe without rushing.

She pulled her jacket tighter and walked toward the little wooden café by the shore.

Inside, a tall foreigner stood behind the counter, shaking a thermos like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

He looked up.

Guy: “Uh… good morning? Do you know how to open this thing?”

Munguntuya blinked, then laughed.

Munguntuya: “You’re shaking it like it owes you money.”

Guy: “I mean… it feels stuck.”

She walked over, twisted the lid with one simple move, and handed it back to him.

Munguntuya: “There. Magic.”

Guy: “I’m impressed. Truly.”

He put a hand on his chest dramatically.

Guy: “I’m Daniel, by the way. First time in Mongolia. Everything here is… amazing. And cold. Mostly cold.”

Munguntuya: “I’m Munguntuya. And yes, this is the coolest welcome we offer.”

They both laughed.

Daniel poured her a cup of hot milk tea on the house.

Daniel: “So what brings you here alone? Holiday?”

She hesitated. It felt strange to open up to a stranger… but something about his kindness made it easy.

Munguntuya: “I’m trying to remember how to rest. It’s been… a long few years.”

Daniel: “Kids?”

Munguntuya: “A son. Eight years old. Smart, loud, and perfect. But being a single mom is… a whole life by itself.”

Daniel nodded slowly, listening without pity — just understanding.

Daniel: “You know, back home, my sister’s a single mom. Strongest person I know. But she never takes breaks. Says the world will fall apart without her.”

Munguntuya: “That sounds familiar.”

Daniel: “And yet… when she finally took a break, everything got better. She did too.”

Munguntuya stared at the lake through the window. For a moment, she saw her own reflection — tired eyes, tired shoulders, but a heart that still glowed somewhere deep inside.

Munguntuya: “I want that. To feel like myself again.”

Daniel smiled softly.

Daniel: “Then let’s make today a day for you.”

An hour later, they were walking through a forest trail. Birds sang overhead, and the wind moved through the trees like whispered music.

Daniel: “You look happier already.”

Munguntuya: “Nature does that. It reminds you the world is bigger than your problems.”

Halfway up the hill, a gust of wind suddenly blew her hat off.

Munguntuya: “Hey! My hat!”

It rolled down the slope. Daniel laughed and chased it like a child playing tag. He almost slipped twice but managed to catch it triumphantly.

He lifted the hat in the air.

Daniel: “The wind is strong, but I’m stronger!”

Munguntuya: “You look like a drama character.”

Daniel: “Then you’re the main character.”

Her cheeks warmed.

It had been a long time since anyone had made her blush.

When they reached the hilltop, Khuvsgul Lake spread out before them like a giant sapphire.

Daniel: “You know… back at the café, you seemed like someone who carries too much alone.”

She swallowed.

Munguntuya: “Maybe. But that’s life.”

Daniel: “Maybe. But life doesn’t always have to be heavy.”

Silence settled between them — a calm, comfortable one.

Munguntuya: “I forgot how good it feels to talk like this.”

Daniel: “So don’t forget again.”

She laughed softly.

For the first time in years, she felt something new inside her — a lightness she thought she had lost forever.

Later that evening, as the sun painted the water gold, Daniel handed her a small folded note.

Daniel: “For when you go back to the city.”

She opened it.

“You deserve rest, joy, and people who make you feel alive. Keep choosing yourself.”

Her throat tightened.

Munguntuya: “Thank you… really.”

Daniel: “It’s not goodbye. I’m here all week. And hey — tomorrow, let’s rent a boat.”

She grinned.

Munguntuya: “Tomorrow, then.”

As she walked back to her cabin, the wind brushed gently past her, warm despite the cold.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.