Gemotions

The small, leather-bound notebook was innocuous looking, sitting on the bedside table. Inside, a record of financial transactions. Cash withdrawals, unexplainable expenditures. His handwriting, usually so neat, was shaky and hurried. Her breathing became shallow and rapid. She felt lightheaded, as if the air had been sucked from the room.

She closed the notebook, the sound strangely loud in the quiet room. She looked at their wedding photo on the nightstand, their faces smiling, hopeful. The image now seemed like a cruel joke, a carefully constructed façade.

She felt a deep, gnawing emptiness, as though a part of her had been ripped away, leaving a gaping wound. She struggled to remain calm. She walked to the window and found herself staring at nothing.