Gemotions

The text arrived at the worst possible moment, during the monthly family dinner. “I know I messed up. Can we talk?” It was from *him*. The betrayal, the lies, the sheer audacity… it all came flooding back. Her mother, across the table, was mid-sentence about her new garden, but Sarah couldn’t focus. An idea, cold and precise, formed in her mind.

She excused herself to the bathroom, her hands trembling. She opened her contact list, found the name, and typed: “Yes. Come to my family dinner. Bring flowers.” She hit send. The sound of her mother’s voice resumed, a steady drone against the sudden silence. Sarah returned to the table, her face carefully blank, her pulse a frantic tattoo beneath her skin. This time, she would let her actions speak for themselves.