Gemotions

The email popped up on her phone, a notification from her literary agent. The subject line: "Your Novel - The Unexpected Discovery." She hadn't written a novel. This had to be a mistake. Her heart began to pound in her chest, a rapid, erratic rhythm. She opened the email. The attachments: the manuscript, the synopsis, the bio of the author: "Amelia Hayes." It was her, as written by her husband, Mark.

She felt a wave of nausea, the room blurring around her. She stumbled to the couch, sinking into its cushions. This wasn't happening. Her surroundings seemed to warp and shift. She was stuck in a nightmare.

Mark entered the living room, holding a glass of wine. "Hey, you look a little pale," he said, concern etched on his face. She just stared at him, unable to speak, a silent scream building in her throat.