Gemotions

The soft glow of the bedside lamp seemed to mock her. She’d stumbled upon the manuscript late last night, after Michael had fallen asleep. The heroine, a woman named Clara, was portrayed as a perpetually anxious, emotionally fragile individual. It was her, down to the way she chewed her lip when stressed. Her stomach churned.

She hadn't realized how intently he’d been *watching*. Everything. Their intimate conversations, their private moments, all fodder for his fiction. He’d painted her as weak, dependent.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. The floorboards creaked under her weight. She pulled on her clothes, her movements stiff and deliberate. As she crept out of the apartment, the world felt too quiet, too empty.