Gemotions

“You’re telling me… he has a daughter?” Mark choked out the words, his voice thick with disbelief. He stared at his mother, his face paling, the coffee mug trembling in his hand. The family history, a tapestry he’d always thought complete, had a gaping hole in its center.

His mother, usually so composed, wrung her hands. “Yes, dear. A daughter. Your father… he made a mistake, a long time ago.” The apology in her eyes was a burning brand.

Mark couldn't breathe. His world tilted. He backed away from his mother as if she had the plague. He needed to get out. He slammed the mug down on the kitchen table and bolted for the door, the sound echoing in the sudden, suffocating silence. He had to think.