Gemotions

The manuscript lay open on the coffee table, a cruel betrayal in plain sight. Amelia slammed the door, the force of it rattling the picture frames. Her chest clenched. It was all there: the awkward first date, the embarrassing family gatherings, the relentless criticism of her career. Each painfully observed detail, laid bare for the world to read, or, at least, for *him* to read.

She stalked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine with a deliberate yank. The corkscrew felt satisfyingly sharp in her hand. He'd never said a word about writing. Not a hint, not a whisper. He’d just sat there, week after week, pretending to listen while secretly cataloging her flaws.

The glass clinked against her teeth as she took a long, stinging gulp. The wine did little to soothe the knot twisting in her stomach. She pictured him, smugly typing away, transforming their life into a spectacle. Well, two could play that game.