Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with a low hum, but Amelia could only hear the frantic thumping in her chest. She watched Daniel, across the small table, stirring his latte with unnecessary intensity. He hadn’t said much since she’d confronted him.

She traced circles on the condensation of her iced tea, her fingertips cold. He had always claimed to be a freelance writer, always glued to his laptop, always talking about deadlines and editors. Yet, when she'd accidentally stumbled upon his real workplace—a private investigation firm—she discovered a whole new world.

His gaze flickered away from hers. "Look," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "it's not what you think..."