Gemotions

The spreadsheet shimmered in the fluorescent light of the spare room. Sarah's breath hitched, the air suddenly thin and hard to draw in. He had always said they were saving everything together, for the future. The numbers on the screen swam, a dizzying array of figures that didn't align with her understanding of their financial status. Her hand flew to her chest, her fingers clutching at her blouse. The truth – a cold, hard knot – was settling in her stomach.

The mouse clattered against the desk as she yanked it away, suddenly desperate. She needed to look away, to stop seeing the evidence, but her gaze was glued to the screen. Her eyes darted around the room, as if something in the dusty furniture or the forgotten textbooks would provide an answer. She felt a sharp throb behind her temples.

She imagined his face when she confronted him, the easy smile he always wore. It was a weapon, she realized, and she had been disarmed. "Where did this come from?" she whispered to herself, her voice cracking.