Gemotions

A cold dread settled in Ben’s stomach. He stared at the display case, his vision blurring slightly. The tiny, intricate setting, the unique cut of the emerald – it was *hers*. The ring that had represented a lifetime of love and commitment. He felt a sharp jab of anger, a physical ache in his chest.

“Sir?” the bored shop assistant asked, his voice grating on Ben’s nerves.

He ignored the question, his gaze locked on the ring. He remembered the arguments, the family secrets, the eventual silence. Now, this. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face rigid.

"I need to see that," he finally managed, his voice low and dangerous. He’d find out who was responsible for this, he promised himself, and they’d regret it.