Gemotions

It wasn’t just a novel; it was a character assassination. Liam had written about her, about them, and the result was a grotesque distortion of the woman she knew herself to be. He’d painted her as possessive, manipulative, and utterly devoid of genuine feeling.

Her hands clenched. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. She paced the length of their cramped living room. Every object in the room seemed to radiate a cold indifference, mirroring her own inner turmoil.

He would be home soon. She could feel a cold, hard knot form in the pit of her stomach. She pictured his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he would apologize if he was in the wrong. She imagined how he would explain away his deceit.

She would be ready.