Gemotions

"Just a colleague," he'd said, his voice smooth, untroubled. She was now standing in front of the window, pretending to look at the street below. He was so good at it, the act. So convincing. Now, the city's lights blurred and bled together, mirroring the kaleidoscope of emotions warring inside her. She replayed his words in her head, the easy cadence, the practiced sincerity.

She twisted the ring on her finger, the gold cold against her skin. The truth was, she'd heard the laughter, the intimacy woven into the short exchanges. The way his voice changed, softened. The slow burn of irritation felt like a physical sickness.

He moved, and now, stood beside her, his hand reaching for her, as if that would fix everything. She just stared at the street.