Gemotions

"It's from her," Maya announced, her voice strained. Her gaze was fixed on the envelope, the handwriting a stark reminder of a past she had worked tirelessly to erase. Her fingers were white around the edges of the thick paper. Her husband, David, reached for her hand.

She flinched away from his touch. "Don't." Her voice was tight. The very air around her seemed to thicken, pressing down on her. The invitation had arrived. How dare she? A reunion was planned. A celebration. She had been invited.

Maya crumpled the invitation in her hand. The paper, once crisp and pristine, became a weapon in her grasp. She knew what the letter would say. She could predict every word, every carefully chosen phrase designed to elicit forgiveness. She would never forgive her.