Gemotions

The cafe smelled of burnt coffee, but Amelia refused to move. The tiny table, meant for one, was now occupied by two. Across from her, a woman with a choppy bob and an apologetic smile wrung her hands. “He said he was single,” the woman murmured, her voice barely audible above the clatter of plates. Amelia glared, her jaw tight. She wasn't leaving until she heard the *entire* story. And until she'd had that apology in person.

The woman, whose name was Sarah, had the audacity to suggest they just… go their separate ways. As if. Amelia shifted in her chair, the hard wooden seat suddenly feeling like a personal affront. She crossed her arms, fixing Sarah with a steely gaze. “He told me he was moving in,” she finally stated, her voice flat. She refused to even consider the possibility of being wrong.

Sarah’s face fell. Amelia felt a small, vindictive pleasure. She’d been ready to move in with *him*. All her plans, her carefully curated vision of domestic bliss – all of it had been built on a foundation of lies. And she wasn't letting this Sarah woman off the hook.