Gemotions

The humid air of the solicitor's office seemed to cling to Amelia’s skin, making her feel even more wretched. She fidgeted, picking at the loose threads of her dress. Across the mahogany table, her brother, Thomas, beamed, a stark contrast to her own gloom. The lawyer cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. “As you know, your father left a will. He wanted you both to benefit.” Amelia braced herself. She knew the news would sting.

Thomas received the family home, a sprawling estate that had been in their family for generations. His eyes sparkled as he listened, planning the renovations. Amelia felt a cold weight settle in her stomach.

“And, Miss Amelia,” the solicitor continued, his voice softer, “your father left you… a collection of his personal journals and his old drafting set.” The silence that followed was thick with unspoken disappointment. Amelia wanted to disappear. The journals? The drafting set? Compared to the house, it felt like a cruel joke.