Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt alien between Amelia’s fingers. The postmark was old, the ink faded, yet the handwriting, scrawled across the front, was immediately recognizable. It was from Ben, the boy who'd broken her heart in high school. She'd moved on, married, built a life. Now this.

Her breath hitched. She scanned the elegant script, her pulse quickening. With trembling hands, she tore it open, the paper crackling like dry leaves. A chill ran down her spine, even though the summer heat was stifling. She backed away from the window, seeking a patch of shade.

“What is it, honey?” her husband called from the kitchen. She froze, unable to answer, her eyes glued to the carefully worded apology. Each word felt like a tiny hammer blow against her chest.