Gemotions

He had been so careful, John thought, but she had found it. The second phone, hidden in the glove compartment. The calls, the texts, the evidence of his deception. He watched his wife, Emily, across the kitchen table. Her face was pale, her expression a mask of controlled fury. Her fingers drummed a rapid tattoo on the tablecloth.

The breakfast she had made was now untouched, the eggs congealing on the plate. She hadn't said a word, but he could see the hurt in her eyes, the way her lips were pressed together. He felt a wave of shame wash over him, followed by a cold, numbing fear. He waited for the explosion, the screaming, the accusations. But the silence stretched on, heavier than any words could have been.

He felt like throwing up.