Gemotions

"Lies, all lies," Thomas muttered, shoving the photo album across the table. His grandmother, the paragon of virtue, the woman who’d lectured him on the importance of family, was captured in a photograph with a man who was undeniably not his grandfather. They were laughing, their faces close. He felt his throat tighten.

He'd grown up believing his family was the picture of perfect. Her pronouncements, her judgments, her moral compass – they’d shaped his life. And now this.

He clenched his fists, knuckles white. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. He wanted to scream. He wanted to confront her, but he knew he couldn't. She was gone. And this was all that remained.