Gemotions

A bitter taste coated Elena’s mouth. She sat on the edge of the bed, the familiar scent of her husband, James, failing to offer any comfort. He had been different lately, his late-night phone calls, the whispers behind closed doors. Now, the glossy magazine lying on the nightstand revealed the truth.

The cover showed a beautiful woman, smiling brightly, speaking in Italian, her native tongue. James had learned Italian. The woman's eyes, her smile…it was the same.

Elena felt a coldness creep into her limbs. She picked up a loose thread on the blanket, pulling it, the action a pointless attempt to regain control. The betrayal felt less like a wound and more like a slow, creeping poison.