Gemotions

Her stepmother, bless her heart, had tried to break the news gently. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality. A new sister. This woman, decades younger, was a constant reminder of a secret.

She took a long, shaky breath. The room, usually a haven, felt small and oppressive. She excused herself and went out, needing to be alone. She walked for hours.

Her fury simmered beneath the surface. She felt a burning need for something, a deep-seated craving for validation. She kicked a pebble into the street, the sound a small explosion of frustration. The idea of a shared history, of a parallel life, was a poison.