Gemotions

The leather-bound journal was in a drawer she rarely opened. Eleanor. Her name, scrawled on the front, felt like a brand. Inside, page after page detailed a life she’d never shared with him. “Start a family.” “Travel to Italy.” "Find a soulmate." The words were like tiny shards of glass, each one scraping against his composure. He balled his fists, the knuckles turning white.

He stormed downstairs, the journal clutched in his hand. Eleanor was in the garden, meticulously tending to her roses. He marched towards her, each step fueled by a simmering resentment.

"What's this?" he demanded, shoving the journal towards her. Her expression didn't change, but he saw a flicker of… something. He didn’t know what, but it fueled the fire in him. She knew, somehow, what she was doing. He hated her for it.