Gemotions

He’d always been so calm, so levelheaded. Thomas, the rock of their relationship. Now, after finding the bank statements tucked away in a dusty box under the bed, that composure seemed like a carefully constructed facade. His quiet pronouncements about finances now felt like pointed omissions.

"Where's the cat?" she asked, her voice tight, the question a deliberate distraction. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

He looked up from his book, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "He's probably sleeping."

She stalked past him, into the kitchen. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed excessively bright, almost mocking. Her vision swam. She grabbed a glass and poured herself a tumbler of water, the ice clinking loudly. The clench of her jaw was a tangible thing.