Gemotions

Sarah found the missed calls log while idly scrolling through David's phone. A name she didn't know, repeated again and again. Her breath hitched, a small, involuntary gasp. The air around her seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe. She felt a cold prickle crawl across her skin.

She excused herself from the dinner party, claiming a headache. The polite chatter, the clinking glasses, the forced smiles – all of it grated on her nerves. She drove home, the familiar route suddenly unfamiliar, each turn a potential wrong direction.

Inside their bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the duvet. The vibrant floral pattern seemed to mock her, a garish reminder of a happiness that felt fundamentally off. When David got home, she was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. She heard him enter the room, the soft click of the door, his gentle footsteps. She didn't move, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, the silence between them a palpable weight pressing down on her chest.