Gemotions

The little leather-bound diary was innocuous enough, tucked away in the back of a drawer. But inside, between the florid descriptions of flowers and sunsets, were the meticulous records. A savings account. His wife, Amelia, kept it secret. He felt a rising tide of nausea.

He stared at the delicate handwriting, each looping letter a testament to a life he thought he understood. The room swam, and he blinked, trying to clear his vision. He thought of all the times she’d expressed concern about their finances, the careful budgeting.

He closed the diary, the action abrupt and violent. The weight of the information was crushing. He felt his chest tighten, making it hard to draw a complete breath.