Gemotions

The tiny, handwritten note slipped from the envelope. "For a rainy day," it read, next to a detailed account summary. Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. It was in her mother-in-law's handwriting. Her husband, Michael, had been setting money aside for years, in his mother's name. Not for them, for her.

She found herself gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, her knuckles white. The dishes in the sink seemed to mock her, a symbol of the shared life they’d built, now tainted. Michael had always been generous, supportive, but this...this felt like a betrayal. A planned separation. A hidden life.

She turned and went to the garage, finding her car keys still hanging on their hook. She didn't want to see him. Not yet. She needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere but here. She revved the engine, the roar of it momentarily drowning out the furious pounding in her chest.