Gemotions

The flickering screen cast a weak light across Amelia's face, highlighting the tremor in her lower lip. She hadn't slept properly in days. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat congealing on the coffee table, a testament to her inability to concentrate. She scrolled through the document, each paragraph a fresh stab to her gut. He’d painted her as the villain, the cold, ambitious wife who clawed her way to the top by stepping on everyone, including him. The words blurred, the accusations stinging like acid. She ran a hand through her hair, a frustrated gesture she repeated every few seconds, as if trying to physically erase what she'd read.

The air felt thick, suffocating. She couldn't breathe properly. She had to get out, away from the digital betrayal, away from the life they had built together, which now seemed utterly false. Grabbing her coat, she stumbled towards the front door, the floorboards groaning under her frantic steps.