Gemotions

The familiar scent of lavender from Amelia’s bath soaps usually soothed him. Tonight, it made his stomach churn. He’d discovered a string of texts. Sweet, intimate, laced with promises that weren't for him. He sat in the living room, the muted glow of the television reflecting in his eyes, but he wasn’t watching the screen.

He remembered the early days of their relationship, the laughter, the endless conversations that stretched late into the night. It felt like a lifetime ago. A wave of nausea washed over him, a physical manifestation of the betrayal. He’d built his life around her.

He got up and started pacing. The worn rug absorbed the sound of his footsteps, mirroring the way his own thoughts were slowly being absorbed by this new reality. The apartment, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now felt like a cage. He grabbed his coat, unable to stay another moment.

He grabbed the car keys, but stopped before he left. Should he confront her? Should he leave a note? What should he do?