Gemotions

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. He was waiting. Expecting her to speak. Her head throbbed. This charade, this sickening act of contrition, made her want to vomit.

She stared at the blank notepad on his desk, the pristine surface a mocking reminder of the chaos he had once inflicted. The need to shatter the fragile peace of the room, to disrupt his carefully constructed persona, was almost unbearable.

Her hands trembled. She wanted to scream, to accuse, to unleash the torrent of emotions that had been simmering for years. Instead, she took a deep, shuddering breath.