Gemotions

The screen of Anya’s laptop glowed with the stark white light of the document in question. She reread the flagged passages, the words mocking her. The weight of the accusation, the potential consequences, pressed down on her chest, making it hard to take a full breath.

Her fingers tapped erratically on the desk, a nervous rhythm against the silence. Her gaze darted around her room, landing on the posters, the photographs, the familiar objects that no longer offered comfort. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the throbbing that had begun behind her eyes. It was a mistake. A misunderstanding. But the evidence, staring back at her from the screen, told a different story. And she didn't know how to prove it.