Gemotions

The late-night air hung thick with the scent of jasmine, a fragrance Sarah usually found calming. Now, it just prickled at her skin. She circled the house a second time, each pass more deliberate than the last. He’d said he was working late, but the shadows cast by the streetlights seemed to twist into mocking shapes. A flicker of movement at the back window made her jump. It was just the wind, rattling a loose shutter. Still, her hand tightened on the phone in her pocket.

She replayed the snippets of conversation she'd overheard earlier: hushed tones, rapid breaths, and the distinct click of a call being ended abruptly. The phone rested on the bedside table. His. She picked it up. Her fingertips danced across the screen, a forbidden dance of suspicion.

She looked at the call log.