Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick, suffocating. Clara ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that did nothing to soothe the tremor in her fingers. The evidence lay spread out before her: a crumpled piece of paper covered in clumsy Cyrillic script, a collection of language-learning apps on his tablet. Mikhail, her husband, had been hiding this from her.

She remembered her mother’s stories of hidden agendas. She walked to the window, the city lights blurred through a film of tears. The way he had been trying to avoid her recently.

She felt a hollowness spreading through her chest. This betrayal felt different, somehow more profound. She’d made herself vulnerable.