Gemotions

The bank statement fluttered in Amelia's trembling fingers. $250,000. Her husband, Thomas, a man who haggled over the price of a loaf of bread, had a quarter of a million dollars stashed away. Her breath hitched. She felt a cold prickle crawl down her spine. The living room seemed to tilt. She reread the balance, then the name on the account: Thomas Ashton. Anger, swift and sharp, sliced through the initial disbelief. Where had it come from? What did it mean? She wanted to scream.

She sank onto the sofa, the colorful floral pattern suddenly garish and mocking. The room felt too small, the air too thick. She thought of their conversations, their shared financial worries, their constant penny-pinching. Was it all a performance? A cruel joke? She had to ask him, right now.