Gemotions

The cramped apartment felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken accusations. Sarah stared at the broken screen of Michael's phone, which he'd always told her was for his "important meetings" as a "software engineer." Now, the screen displayed a list of pizza delivery orders.

A hot, stinging sensation burned behind her eyes. He’d always been so secretive, so evasive. It was always “work,” always “confidential.” She felt a sudden, crushing weight of resentment. She felt betrayed.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She wanted to yell, to scream, to lash out. But all she could manage was a tight, controlled voice. "You're a delivery driver?," she asked, the words barely audible. The silence that followed was deafening.