Gemotions

He gripped the photograph so tightly that his knuckles were white. The picture showed his father, young and vibrant, arm in arm with a woman who wasn't his mother. It was a secret he'd never suspected, a crack in the foundation of his carefully constructed childhood.

His father, the paragon of virtue, the man who’d lectured him endlessly on honor and fidelity, had been living a lie. The thought twisted in his gut, a knot of unease and something else, something sharp and cold.

He felt the tremors in his hands, and the sudden urge to break something, to shatter this image of perfection that had been so meticulously maintained.