Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane as Mark paced the living room. Sarah had been locking herself in the spare bedroom for the past week, always with her phone clutched to her ear. He'd tried to catch a glimpse of the caller ID, but she was too quick. His stomach churned with a mixture of curiosity and a deep-seated dread.

He stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. He could confront her, demand answers. But what if the answer was something he didn't want to hear? He found himself instead gathering the scattered magazines, straightening the cushions on the sofa, a frantic need to control something, anything.

The door creaked open, and Sarah emerged, her eyes red-rimmed. She didn’t meet his gaze. Mark moved to her, extending a hand to her shoulder, not to interrogate, but to simply offer comfort.