Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the table, displaying Ben's name. Clara stared at it, her fingers twitching. Ben, who had claimed to be a renowned architect, was actually a furniture assembler. She’d learned the truth from a mutual acquaintance earlier in the day.

She didn't answer. A red haze swam before her eyes. The countless dinner parties, the elaborate descriptions of his "groundbreaking" designs, all felt like a performance now. She remembered a specific moment when he'd criticized her taste in home decor; now she saw his advice was worthless.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurl the phone across the room. She wanted to erase every shared memory. Eventually, she turned off the phone.