Gemotions

He paced the living room, the Persian rug feeling strangely abrasive beneath his bare feet. The air hung thick with the unspoken. His son, Ethan, had become a stranger in his own house. The change had been gradual, a slow erosion of trust that made his gut clench. He had a feeling, a knot in his chest that wouldn’t unravel.

He found the laptop in Ethan’s room, tucked away under a pile of dirty clothes. The password was the same as always. He signed in. A new email, an unfamiliar address, stared back at him. He clicked it.

The screen displayed private messages and videos. Ethan was using a fake name, talking to people he never mentioned. He felt a wave of nausea, like he had swallowed something that wouldn't digest. He read and reread the messages, each word a cold accusation.