Gemotions

"Are you even *listening*?" Sarah snapped, her voice sharp. Her husband, oblivious as ever, was rambling about the office. She'd been waiting for him to get home. She needed to talk, to say something, but the words felt like lead in her throat. The DNA results had confirmed her suspicions: she was adopted.

She sat rigid, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace. The comfortable warmth felt like a mockery of her inner frost.

“Honestly, sometimes I feel like you don’t hear a word I say," she continued, her voice heavy with unspoken feelings. The air in the room felt thick with unspoken resentments. Why now? Why did she have to learn this now?