Gemotions

The laptop screen cast a sickly, fluorescent glow across David’s face. He should have just asked Amelia. He should have trusted her. Now, he was wading through a digital swamp of hashtags and filtered selfies, each one a tiny pinprick of shame. His daughter, with her carefully constructed online persona, seemed a stranger. He shut the lid with a snap, the sound echoing unnaturally in the quiet house. He needed to apologize.

The next morning, he made pancakes, her favorite. He usually delegated breakfast duty to his wife, but today he was determined. He stood by the stove, flipping the golden circles with exaggerated care, a nervous tremor in his hands. He hoped she'd at least speak to him.

She came down the stairs, eyes puffy, clutching her phone. He watched her approach the table, and he could barely meet her gaze. He had betrayed her trust, and he knew he had to face the music.