Gemotions

Michael hadn't mentioned the book at all. He'd been working on it for months, he confessed, completely absorbed. Now, staring at the thinly veiled version of herself on the page, Sarah felt a shiver of discomfort. The heroine, “Seraphina,” was undeniably her, right down to the little nervous twitch she got when she was stressed.

She hid the book away quickly, feeling a sudden need for air. The window was open, a cool breeze carrying the scent of rain, but she felt constricted. This novel, a fictionalized version of their shared life, had somehow made their reality less safe, more exposed.

Later, she found him at the kitchen table, a half-finished cup of coffee sitting beside the keyboard. His eyes met hers, and her cheeks prickled with a stinging sensation. She didn't want him to see her reaction. "So, uh," she said, attempting a nonchalant tone. "What did Seraphina do today?"