Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the old Victorian house, mirroring the unrest swirling within Amelia. Days bled into one another, marked only by the ticking clock and the insistent drip of the leaky faucet. Their parents’ inheritance, a sprawling estate, seemed less a gift and more a monument to her stagnation. Her brother, Thomas, was buzzing around the place, already calling contractors, making plans.

She picked at a loose thread on the ancient tapestry in the drawing room. A coldness settled in her bones, a feeling of being utterly disconnected. He’d found the deed, the original, with his name on it. He would have the house, the land, the legacy. She had been left with only a collection of letters from her father, a reminder of a life she hadn’t lived.

“You okay, sis?” Thomas’s voice broke through her reverie. He looked at her with concern, the way someone might look at a wilting flower.