The late afternoon light, usually a comfort, seemed to prick at Amelia's eyes as she scrolled through the manuscript. A chill ran down her spine, not from the open window, but from the words flashing across the screen. Every sentence felt like a carefully aimed dart. She reread the description of Sarah’s “eccentric habits,” a phrase that felt too specific, too…real. Her pulse quickened. Amelia’s fingers, normally steady, now trembled as she clicked through the pages, a knot forming in her stomach with each revelation. She felt a need to pace.
Her reflection in the darkened screen stared back, a stranger. The novel's protagonist, mirroring her life, was an unwelcome mirror. The character’s hidden insecurities, their clumsy attempts at humor, the vulnerabilities she’d carefully guarded – all laid bare. Amelia felt a surge of heat and a desperate urge to flee the room, to escape this digital invasion of her privacy. She took a shuddering breath.
She reached for her phone. Should she confront him? Or pretend ignorance, letting him think his secret was safe? The screen's glow seemed to intensify, trapping her in its cold glare. A sudden lightness in her head as she realized how much she didn’t know.