Gemotions

He’d said he was going to the gym. Amelia had watched him leave, whistling cheerfully, a skip in his step. The cheerful facade was shattered the moment she saw the flash of the phone screen from under the couch. He’d left it behind.

Her stomach clenched. Curiosity, that insidious little devil, took hold. She shouldn't. She knew she shouldn’t. But the phone was there, a gaping wound in their carefully constructed reality. She picked it up.

He’d deleted the call history, of course. But the missed calls, the pattern of them, were clear. Her hands began to tremble. When he returned, smelling of expensive cologne, she feigned a smile, but her voice was tight when she asked about his workout.