Gemotions

The glow of the phone illuminated Amelia’s face, casting harsh shadows under her eyes. She’d been up all night, scrolling through the curated reality her daughter, Chloe, had built. The fake friends, the manufactured happiness. It felt like a betrayal, a carefully constructed illusion she hadn't known she was living alongside.

She ran a hand through her already disheveled hair, the strands catching on her fingernails. A tight knot formed in her chest, a physical manifestation of the ache she couldn't quite name.

"Breakfast is ready, Chloe," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper, as she descended the stairs.

Chloe, already at the table, barely looked up from her own phone. Amelia took a seat, the silence stretching between them, thick and heavy like a damp blanket. She pushed the food around her plate, the once vibrant colours of the omelette now seeming dull and unappetizing.