Gemotions

"A separate account, honey?" He asked his wife, his voice deliberately casual. He stared out the window, trying to appear nonchalant. But inside, his pulse hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He’d seen the bank statement; the amount, far too large.

Her eyes flickered, a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation. "Oh, that old thing?" she said, laughing a little too brightly. He feigned a chuckle, but the sound felt hollow in his own ears. Her response, the way she avoided his gaze, just fueled the internal fire.

He excused himself, needing to be away from her, from the oppressive feeling that he was being deceived. He went to the garage, where he spent an hour cleaning the car, each swipe of the rag a desperate attempt to wipe away the mounting distress.