Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, gleaming in the weak sunlight filtering through the attic window. Amelia traced the swirling patterns on its surface, her fingers trembling slightly. Her brother, Thomas, had been so excited about finding it, proclaiming its inherent value and its potential to fetch a fortune. But the thrill had quickly faded for Amelia. The will stated he'd inherit the family farm, while she'd receive this trinket – the source of a lingering unease.

She'd seen the disappointment in Thomas's eyes when the solicitor read the documents. He'd wanted to modernize the farm, to bring in new equipment, to expand the operation. Instead, he was stuck with the weight of tradition. She, on the other hand, had received a bauble, a pretty nothing.

The music box chimed, a tinkling melody that grated on her nerves. She slammed the lid shut. A coldness settled in her stomach as she remembered their father’s final, weak smile, directed at Thomas, a promise of a future she now realised had a terrible cost.