Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the spare bedroom, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and memories she would rather bury. Elara had promised to help her mother sort through her late father's things. His death had ripped a hole in their lives, a gaping wound that refused to heal.

A particular photo caught her eye. It showed her father, in his younger days, standing next to a glamorous woman, her hand resting casually on his arm. Her heart felt as though a steel band had been tightened around it. Her mother had always described him as a devoted family man. Elara felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. The truth was a cold, hard stone in her stomach.