Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window as Chloe settled into the armchair, a cup of tea warming her hands. She knew something was off when she saw the notepad on the kitchen table. It was open to a page filled with neat handwriting, and she recognized her own name. She started reading, a slow, building grin spreading across her face as she delved into its pages.

The protagonist was obviously herself, caught in the midst of a particularly chaotic baking session, recounted with charming melodrama. The author, her husband, Thomas, had captured her essence with uncanny accuracy. She could almost taste the burnt edges of the cookies. She pictured his face when he realised she'd discovered his secret project.

She found him in his study, pretending to work, but she could see the guilt on his face. She strode over, the notebook clutched in her hand. “Thomas,” she said, her voice lilting with a mirth she tried to restrain, “I have some… feedback.”