Gemotions

He had been dodging her calls all day, using excuses, a strained voice, and the palpable tension whenever she asked where he was. It was enough. Clara's resolve hardened, her hands clenching into fists as she stared out the window. She wouldn't be played.

She found him in the garage, the door partially closed, the low murmur of his voice audible through the crack. Her face was a storm. She pushed the door open with a single, firm shove, her silhouette stark against the harsh fluorescent light.

"Who are you talking to?" she demanded, her voice a low growl. He flinched, startled, the phone falling from his hand. The game was over. She would see this to the end.