Gemotions

The realization hit Amelia like a physical blow. The manuscript, neatly printed and bound, sat on the coffee table. Her stomach twisted, a hard knot forming. The title, a pun based on their inside jokes, was a final insult.

The character based on her was depicted as a control freak, a woman obsessed with order and perfection, someone who stifled her partner’s creativity. Her fingers curled into fists. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. He'd captured her flaws, magnified them, and then used them to create a narrative that painted her as the enemy.

She walked into the bedroom, unable to look at the book anymore. She began stripping the bed, throwing the pillows and sheets to the floor, as if she could somehow tear apart the carefully constructed fiction and get to the truth underneath.