What happens when suspicion turns into a discovery so raw it shakes the ground beneath a woman’s feet?
✍️ Grab-Hold First Line
She told herself it was just paranoia, but as the office lights flickered on and she saw him through the window, her breath turned to fire.
✍️ Paragraph
She had parked across the street, fingers clenched on the steering wheel, convincing herself she was being foolish. He said he’d be late—deadlines, meetings, all the usual excuses. But tonight her gut gnawed at her. The building loomed against the night sky, and every minute her pulse tapped louder in her ears. When he finally appeared, laughter followed him — a laugh too intimate, too unguarded. She leaned forward, narrowing her gaze. A woman’s silhouette stepped out beside him, her hand brushing his arm with casual familiarity. That single gesture, fleeting yet undeniable, struck like flint to kindling. Something feral, long buried beneath years of trust, clawed its way to the surface. Her heartbeat no longer begged for answers; it demanded reckoning. As he glanced around, unaware of her watching, she realized she no longer feared betrayal — she feared what her rage might make her do.
Question for Readers:
If you were writing this story, what would her next move be — confrontation, silence, or something far darker?