Gemotions

The text message, a simple "Hey, can we talk?", had been the first crack in the illusion. Now, sitting opposite David in a dimly lit Italian restaurant, Clara felt her stomach churn. The pasta, which had seemed so appealing just an hour ago, now looked utterly unappetizing. David’s confession, delivered in hushed tones, had ripped away the comfortable veneer of their relationship. He’d paused, taking a deep breath, and then said it: "She’s been… seeing me too." Clara picked at the tablecloth, her fingers twisting the linen into a tight knot. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. It was a pressure that started to build, a tightening. The clatter of cutlery and muffled conversations seemed to amplify around her.