The antique shop was stifling, the air thick with dust and the scent of aged wood. Sarah ran a hand over a chipped porcelain doll, its painted eyes seeming to follow her. She felt a magnetic pull to rearrange the displays, to bring order to the chaos. It wasn't the dolls, not really. It was something else, a humming beneath her skin, a need to dismantle and rebuild. This feeling had been gnawing at her for weeks, ever since David had started working late. She sighed, pushing the doll away. "I'll take it," she snapped to the owner, needing a concrete action to ground herself.
Later, over lukewarm coffee, the woman sitting opposite her, a striking blonde named Chloe, looked vaguely familiar. Sarah fidgeted with the sugar packet, tearing the corners. Chloe was talking about their shared boyfriend, David, and a romantic weekend they'd planned for the next week. Sarah felt the ground shift beneath her. This couldn’t be right.
"He told me he was going to a conference," Sarah managed, her voice a thin thread. Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because he’s been telling *me* it's a surprise getaway." The small, ornate clock on the table seemed to tick louder. Sarah found herself suddenly desperate to leave, to bolt, to escape the suffocating weight of this revelation.