Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. Identical formatting. Identical formulas. Identical client list. Her carefully constructed presentation, the culmination of six months of late nights and relentless research, was staring back at her, replicated in every detail on Marcus’s screen. A wave of nausea hit her, a cold prickle running up her spine. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat suddenly tight. “Marcus, is this…?” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. He looked up, a placid smile on his face, oblivious.