Gemotions

“This is perfect,” Eleanor murmured, tracing the edge of the champagne flute. The restaurant was dimly lit, the music a gentle murmur in the background. She was seated opposite Richard, and they had just ordered appetizers. The entire evening had been exquisitely planned, from the flowers to the location. She’d been enjoying the subtle, shared humor, the easy conversation. Everything was just right.

Then, a woman approached their table. Her face was pale, and her voice shaky. “Richard,” she said, her gaze darting between him and Eleanor. Eleanor felt her stomach clench.