Gemotions

He’d found it tucked between the pages of his father’s old journal. The stationery, a crisp, expensive paper he recognized from his dad’s time at the law firm. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he’d inherited. This was from before he was born.

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. The language was precise, professional, but the tone was all wrong. It felt… brittle. Almost apologetic. He felt a creeping unease. He wanted to understand.

His fingers tightened around the paper. His gaze darted around the room, as if something was lurking in the shadows. He didn't want to read it. He knew he had to. He tried to tell himself it was just a letter, just words on a page, but his palms were slick with sweat.