Gemotions

The small, leather-bound journal. Hidden under the mattress. It was a private account, but she was not alone. The story she found in the pages was of deceit. The words, written in his perfect, neat script, confirmed her worst fears. He had been planning something, keeping secrets.

She slammed the journal shut, the sound echoing in the silent room. She felt sick.

The front door slammed, and his footsteps echoed up the stairs. She braced herself. This was going to be difficult.