Novels by Gozirim

Emily’s fingers froze on the zipper of the leather duffel, the rasp of it still echoing in her ears like a gunshot in the quiet bedroom. Don’t breathe too loud. But the bed creaked behind her, and James’s voice sliced through the dark.“What the fuck are you doing?”Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she tasted copper. He can’t know. Not yet. Not like this. The clothes she’d chosen, old jeans, sweaters from before him, felt like fragile armor in her hands. She forced her voice steady. “Just… sorting old clothes. Things that don’t fit anymore. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you.”Please believe me. Please stay blind just a little longer. She prayed within.James’s jaw tightened, fury flashing hot in his eyes for a terrifying second. The same sharp look he gave subordinates who disappointed him. Emily’s stomach clenched. This is it. He’ll see the lie. But then he exhaled, rubbing his face wearily. “Christ, Emily. At this hour?” His tone softened into familiar imp

Emily pulled her knees to her chest, heart hammering against her ribs as the bedroom door swung open.James stepped inside, loosening his tie with one hand and his other hand already reaching for the light switch. The overhead light flooded the room, harsh and unforgiving, as Emily blinked against the sudden brightness. His hair was slightly tousled and his shirt collar open, but otherwise he looked exactly like the man who had kissed her cheek that morning and promised to be home early. No guilt shadowing his eyes. She was still sitting on the edge of the bed, in the damp dress, with her face tear-streaked and raw.He didn't notice.Not at first. He was too busy kicking off his shoes, sighing about his long day and being the center of his own universe. It wasn't until he glanced up at the mirror and caught her reflection that he paused mid-motion. His eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of her tear-streaked face, her ruined dress and the way she sat curled like a wounded animal o

Emily sat at the edge of the dining table, watching the candles in front of her burn down to nothing. Her fingers traced the rim of her wine glass as she watched the last of the flames sputter and die. The wax had pooled into mis-shapen puddles on the silver candlesticks, and the faint smell of smoke mingled with the aroma of seared steak and roasted vegetables. She'd made his favorite meal and set the table with the china they'd received as a wedding gift. The one he'd never once used.Tonight was her third wedding anniversary with James and she was putting on the dress he'd bought her for their first anniversary, a deep emerald green that hugged her waist and fell just above her knees.She glanced at the clock on the mantel again for the 10th time. Eleven forty-seven but he wasn't home yet.The anniversary dinner she'd spent all afternoon preparing sat untouched. The candles she'd lit with trembling hands were gone now, and had become nothing but melted stubs drowning in pools of