Gemotions

The small, leather-bound book felt heavy in Emily's hands. It listed, in her husband's neat handwriting, every deposit, every withdrawal, meticulously documented. The realization struck her with the force of a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. She had thought they shared everything.

Her fingers trembled as she turned the pages. The dates, the amounts, the cryptic notations – all pointed to a life she didn't know. She bit down on her lip, tasting blood. The sun, streaming through the window, seemed too bright, too cheerful.

She slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in the silent room. She couldn't understand. She went to the window and pushed it open, letting the cold air wash over her. It did nothing to cool the fire that was suddenly raging inside her.