Gemotions

The bank statement felt heavy in her hand, a physical manifestation of the unease blooming in her chest. She reread the balance, then the name: *David's Savings*. David, her husband of fifteen years, a man who swore they were both meticulously managing their finances together. Her breath hitched. She'd found it tucked away in a desk drawer while searching for the tax returns. Now she felt a pressure building behind her eyes, the insistent throb of a headache.

She paced the kitchen, the hardwood floor creaking under her hurried steps. The early morning light cast long shadows, distorting the familiar space. She thought about his weekend trips, the vague excuses, the way he’d been more withdrawn lately. The air in the room felt thick, like she’d stumbled into a pressure cooker.

“David,” she said out loud, her voice a thin whisper. She needed answers. She needed them now. The coffee, forgotten on the counter, was rapidly cooling.