Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the blinds seemed to mock him. Michael tossed the bank statement onto the counter, the paper landing with a soft thud. The amount was obscene, a testament to years of clandestine transactions, hidden from his wife, Emily. He had built this life on a foundation of lies.

He replayed their arguments in his head, Emily’s pleas to be more transparent, his dismissive responses, the excuses he had crafted to justify his secrecy. Now, he understood the truth. He'd been a selfish, untrustworthy fool.

The coffee machine sputtered to life. Emily would be down soon. He walked over to the kitchen sink, running cold water over his trembling hands. He had to say something, anything.

Her footsteps echoed in the hallway. "Morning, honey," she said as she entered the room, her eyes meeting his. He could see the questioning look in her eyes, and a wave of overwhelming guilt washed over him.