Gemotions

The betrayal wrapped around Amelia like a cold vise. She found the account, a carefully curated online persona her daughter, Chloe, had built. It was a perfect image, an ideal she couldn't reach, a fantasy that felt like a personal insult.

The house felt stuffy, the air thick with unspoken accusations. She wandered through the rooms, picking up objects, putting them down, each movement a restless expression of her inner unrest. Amelia picked up the phone again and stared at the screen.

When Chloe finally came downstairs, Amelia's voice was tight, thin. "Dinner's ready." She didn't look up, busying herself with stirring a pot on the stove. This girl, in front of her, was not her daughter, in that moment.