Gemotions

The scent of lavender from the potpourri on the bedside table did little to soothe her nerves. Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, the small, leather-bound notebook clutched in her hand. The account details, scrawled in her husband’s distinctive handwriting, were stark and unforgiving.

They had been planning for their future, for retirement, for the trips they'd always dreamed of. He’d always seemed so invested, so committed. But the figures in the notebook told a different story.

She felt a wave of nausea. She thought of the future they had painted, full of sunshine and laughter. Was it a painting of their future, or someone else's? A knot formed in her chest.