Gemotions

The text messages, the ones filled with sweet nothings, were the same. The flowers, delivered weekly, were the same. The playlist he’d curated, the one she'd adored, was playing now, in the background. She listened to it, feeling an escalating heat crawl up her neck.

He was late, again, and she was waiting in his apartment. This time, however, she wasn’t alone. Another woman entered, key in hand, and stood shocked in the doorway. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I think I have the wrong apartment," she said. It was then that the first woman saw the wedding photograph on his mantel.

She watched the woman’s face as the realization dawned, and she had to clench her fists to prevent herself from screaming.