Gemotions

He hadn't touched his breakfast. The toast sat untouched, cold and hard on the plate. She watched him across the table, his face a mask of carefully constructed indifference. She recalled the late-night calls, the whispers that drifted from behind closed doors. The way he would always scramble to hide his phone when she approached. The world seemed to be closing in around her, the walls of their once-shared life growing narrower with each passing moment. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she felt a desperate urge to run, to escape the suffocating air of their charade.