Colors Of Emotion

1 After eye surgery, I saw emotional auras. True care glowed warm orange—like the neighbor’s reunion or the old woman’s chestnuts. But my wife Stacey’s aura stayed a dull, suffocating gray. By my hospital bed, feeding me soup. On our anniversary, clasping my necklace. Even at night, tangled together, her gray never wavered. I told myself her love was just deeply buried. Until Finn’s welcome banquet. Lights died. Finn gasped, terrified of the dark. Stacey lunged, slamming me to the floor. From the ground, I watched her pull him into a fierce embrace. "Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you." In the blackness, a blinding orange erupted from her—so bright it scalded. "Finn, are you hurt?" Lights flickered back. Everyone saw Stacey shielding Finn. I slumped against a table two meters away, elbow bleeding, knees throbbing on marble. She finally glanced at me, still glowing that violent orange. In seven years, it was the first time I’d seen that color on her. It burned my eyes. But it was never for me. … Finn gently stepped out of her embrace and smoothed his hair. "I'm fine, Stacey." He looked over at me, his tone entirely too casual. "You should check on Neil. It looks like he took a pretty hard fall." Stacey stood up and walked toward me. I gripped the edge of the table and slowly pulled myself up. I didn't yell. I didn't cause a scene, nor did I demand to know why she had shoved her own husband aside. I simply looked at the fading orange glow around her, turned my back, and walked toward the exit. "Neil." Stacey caught up to me at the hotel entrance, grabbing my wrist. She frowned at the blood dripping from my elbow. "The blackout happened too fast. You know Finn is terrified of the dark." Her voice was steady, carrying a tone of absolute justification. She didn't bother explaining who she cared about more. She just used the phrase "you know" to force me back into the role of the understanding, compliant husband. I stared at her aura. It had completely returned to that lifeless gray. "So when you shoved me out of the way, did you know it was me?" Stacey froze for a fraction of a second. "It was chaos. I couldn't see anything." She let go of my wrist and reached into her purse for her car keys. "Neil, the three of us have known each other for years. Don't make this ugly over a stupid accident." I didn't say a word. I just got into the passenger seat. She insisted on driving me to a nearby urgent care clinic. When the ER doctor scrubbed my open wound with iodine, a piercing sting shot through my nerves. Stacey was standing right next to me when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and answered immediately. "Stacey, I think I dropped my car keys in the banquet hall. Could you come back and help me look?" Finn's voice filtered through the speaker. It wasn't loud, but it was just clear enough for me to hear every word. Stacey looked down at me. My elbow was still bleeding. The doctor hadn't even applied the bandages yet. "Let the doctor finish up," she said, tossing her credit card onto the metal counter. "I will be right back." The clinic door swung open and clicked shut. I watched her silhouette disappear into the night. I didn't ask her to stay. Half an hour later, my arm was fully bandaged. The clinic door swung open again. But it wasn't Stacey. Finn walked in, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a pharmacy bag. He stopped right in front of me. "Don't be mad at Stacey, Neil. She just panicked." He offered me the coffee, his expression perfectly open and guiltless. "You know how it is. I got trapped in an elevator as a kid. The dark really messes with my head." I didn't take the cup. "She definitely panicked," I replied flatly. Finn smiled and took a seat next to me. "We've all been in each other's lives for so long. Don't let my coming back create a wedge between you two." He wasn't fighting me. He wasn't overtly stealing her. He just effortlessly inserted himself into the concept of "the three of us" as if it were his birthright. It was past midnight when Stacey finally came home after dropping Finn off. I had already showered and was sitting quietly on the living room sofa. She tossed a small pharmacy bag onto the coffee table. "I got you some scar cream. Stop giving me the cold shoulder." She slipped off her coat, sounding deeply exhausted. "Finn just got back to the States. The welcome party turned into a disaster. He feels terrible about it." I looked at the suffocating, ashen gray radiating from her body. "Stacey," I said softly. "If Finn had been the one bleeding on the floor tonight, would you have told him to stop making things ugly?" Stacey's brow furrowed in instant annoyance. "But that didn't happen, did it?" She turned and walked toward the master bathroom. "Go to sleep, Neil. Stop overthinking." The sound of the shower running echoed through the quiet apartment. I picked up my phone and opened an email I had received two weeks ago. The subject line read: [London Restoration Center Fellowship Offer Confirmed]. My thumb hovered over the screen. Without a single second of hesitation, I tapped accept. The next morning, I walked into the dining room. Stacey was already up and had prepared breakfast. She slid a bowl of sweet pumpkin oatmeal across the table. "You lost blood last night. Eat something warm." She pulled out a chair and sat down, her tone surprisingly gentle. I stared at the steaming bowl of sweet oatmeal. I didn't touch my spoon. I hate pumpkin. Even the smell of it makes my stomach turn. The person who is obsessed with sweet pumpkin oatmeal is Finn. I have always preferred a savory breakfast sandwich. Three years of marriage, and she couldn't even remember my most basic preferences. "Why aren't you eating?" she asked. "It's too hot." I pushed the bowl away. Her phone buzzed on the table. Finn had just sent a message to our group chat. "Thanks again for last night, Stacey. How is Neil's arm? Do you want me to drop off some antibiotics?" I glanced at the screen. It was our trio group chat, dead and silent for three years. The name was still a stupid joke from college: "The Golden Trio." Stacey picked up her phone, typing back immediately. "No need. You're still jetlagged. Get some sleep." I watched her fingers move across the screen. My bandages hadn't even been changed today, yet her first priority was Finn's jetlag. "Let's go out for dinner tonight," Stacey said, putting her phone face down. "Finn doesn't know his way around the city anymore. We can eat together, make up for the dinner we missed last night." I looked up at her. "Do you know what today is?" Today was my birthday. Stacey paused. Not a single ripple of emotion crossed her face. "We can celebrate your birthday another day." She took a sip of her black coffee. "A welcome home dinner only happens once." I stared quietly at the dead gray light surrounding her. She was like a freezing stone I could never warm up. "Okay," I nodded, standing up from the table. That afternoon, on my way to the restaurant, I opened that pinned group chat. I changed the group name to: "Stacey and Her Friend." The chat went dead silent for a few seconds. Finn replied first with a smiling emoji. "Wow, Neil. That sounds so formal. We used to be a lot closer than that." A private message from Stacey popped up immediately after. "Why did you change the group name?" "Finn just got back. Why are you purposely trying to make him uncomfortable?" I typed a single reply. "I'm just making the relationship titles accurate." She didn't text back. Dinner was at an upscale French restaurant. Finn, wearing a loud designer shirt, sat right next to Stacey. The waiter handed out the wine menus. Finn smiled and looked across the table at me. "Stacey used to outdrink all of us in college. Do you keep her on a tight leash, Neil?" I picked up my water glass and took a sip. "She has a weak stomach. She can't do hard liquor." Finn raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?" He turned his head to look at Stacey. "Back in the day, she would take shots with me until three in the morning and still make it to her morning lectures." Stacey didn't correct him. She gracefully sliced her steak, a very faint, nostalgic smile touching the corners of her lips. "That was when we were young and stupid." The exact moment those words left her mouth, a soft, warm orange glow bloomed around her. It was faint, but it was undeniably real. Looking at that light, the very last shred of struggle in my heart completely flatlined. Halfway through the meal, I stood up. "I have some restoration files to organize. I'm heading out early." Stacey frowned. "Finish your food. I will drive you home." "No need." I grabbed my jacket and walked out of the restaurant without looking back. As I reached the parking lot, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. "Neil." Finn leaned against the hood of a nearby car, his voice perfectly calm. "I know you hate that I am back." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, pinching it between his fingers. "But Stacey and I knew each other long before you came into the picture. There is a lot of history between us. You don't just erase that overnight." I looked at him. "And your point is?" Finn chuckled, blowing a cloud of smoke into the cool air. "My point is, if you can't handle it, you should just bow out." "Stop suffering in silence while making everyone else miserable." I looked at his smug, open face and didn't bother arguing. When I got home, I opened my laptop. I pulled up the email from the London Restoration Center and began filling out the detailed visa application. For the next few days, I stayed quiet. I gathered my passport, my certificates, and my portfolio. The floor of my study was covered with delicate restoration tools and ancient texts. When Stacey pushed the door open, I was carefully sealing a few rare books my grandfather had left me into moisture proof bags. Her eyes swept over the open suitcase on the floor. Her brow furrowed. "Are you going on a business trip?" I sealed the bag shut. "Something like that." She walked closer, opening her mouth to ask more, but her phone suddenly rang in her pocket. She answered it, her tone instantly softening. "You looked at the venue? Okay, I will be right there." Hanging up, she grabbed her coat draped over the back of the chair. "Finn is putting together a small photography exhibition. There is an issue with the venue." She looked at me. "I need to go help him sort this out. We can talk about your trip when I get back." I didn't even look up. "Sure." The second the front door clicked shut, I shoved the final stack of paperwork into my suitcase. She didn't even have the time to ask where I was going. That afternoon, I went to the bank to print out six months of financial statements for my visa application. When the teller handed me the printed receipt, I stared at the numbers and completely froze. More than half of the money in our joint savings account, the money we had been saving for our trip to Iceland, was gone. The transfer memo simply read: "Deposit for Finn's Exhibition Venue." Two years ago, when I was recovering from my eye surgery and my vision first started coming back, I told her I wanted to see the Northern Lights. Stacey had held my hand, her voice solemn and full of promise. "As soon as your eyes are fully healed, I will take you." We had saved that money for two years. Now, the Northern Lights had been traded for Finn's spotlight. I folded the bank statement, slid it into my bag, and hailed a cab straight to the exhibition venue. The gallery was a mess. Construction workers were busy setting up display frames. I walked in and immediately spotted the item sitting inside the central glass display case. It was a vintage film camera. My grandfather's camera. The last thing he ever left me. Next to it sat a sleek placard printed in elegant cursive. "The Source of Finn's Early Inspiration." I stood in front of the glass, the blood running cold in my veins. "Neil, what are you doing here?" Stacey walked over holding a roll of blueprints, looking completely unfazed. "Finn is just borrowing it." She pointed at the camera. "Your grandfather kept it in pristine condition. It fits the aesthetic of the exhibition perfectly." I turned my head to look at her. "Did you ask me?" Stacey went quiet for a second before rolling up the blueprints. "Do we really need to draw such strict lines between us?" Her tone carried a hint of irritation. She was looking at me as if I were a child throwing an unreasonable tantrum. Finn climbed down from a nearby ladder and dusted off his hands. "Neil, perfect timing." He walked over to the glass case, his smile bright and totally shameless. "I meant to call you. Your grandfather's camera has so much character. It's the perfect centerpiece for my show." I stared at him. "That belongs to me." Finn blinked, feigning surprise, before his smile grew wider. "Of course it does. I didn't say I was keeping it." He looked at Stacey. "Stacey told me you wouldn't mind, so I went ahead and used it." Stacey stepped forward, deliberately positioning herself between Finn and me. "It's just a camera, Neil. He will give it back when the show is over." She lowered her voice. "This exhibition is crucial for Finn's comeback. Do not embarrass him right now." I looked at the suffocating, dead gray aura surrounding her. "Stacey," I said, my voice eerily calm. "We are done. Let's get a divorce." Stacey's face drained of color. Her eyes darkened with absolute disbelief. "Over a camera?" She thought I was losing my mind. "Leave Finn out of this. He just got back, and putting this show together has been stressful enough. We've been friends for years. Stop being so overly sensitive and ruining everything." I didn't argue. I reached out, slid open the unlocked glass pane, took out my grandfather's vintage camera, and walked out of the gallery. It was raining lightly on the opening day of Finn's exhibition. I had no intention of going, but I realized I was missing a crucial document for my visa. Two days ago, Stacey had carelessly stuffed it into her briefcase. I had no choice but to go to the gallery to find her. As I walked into the grand lobby, I saw Stacey standing by the sign in desk. She looked surprised to see me, instinctively reaching out to touch my shoulder. I stepped sideways, avoiding her touch entirely. Her hand froze in midair before she slowly pulled it back. "Since you are here, do you want to walk around with me?" She was still radiating that pale, lifeless gray. I shook my head, turning away to look for her briefcase. That was when I noticed the massive projector screen by the entrance playing a video montage. The title read: "Reunion: The Ten Years We Walked Together." I froze in my tracks. The screen showed rolling lavender fields in Provence. Finn was running ahead, turning back to smile brightly at the camera. Stacey was walking right beside him, carrying his heavy camera bag. The warm sunlight stretched their shadows together on the grass. The next shot was on the banks of the Seine. It was dusk. The two of them were leaning against the stone railing, Finn resting his head comfortably on her shoulder to watch the sunset. Stacey whispered something, he laughed and playfully shoved her, and she smiled brightly in return. The next clip was outside a small street cafe. Finn was rubbing his hands together in the freezing cold. Stacey took off her trench coat and draped it over his shoulders. It was the coat I had bought for her birthday last year. In the bottom right corner of the video, the dates were watermarked. October 15, October 17, October 20. I remembered those days vividly. I had been bedridden with a severe fever. "The fifteenth," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "You told me you were on a business trip to New York." Stacey went dead silent. "Finn was stranded in Europe alone," she finally said. "He didn't speak the language. I just flew out to help him." Still gray. Always gray. The gallery lights suddenly dimmed, signaling the start of the opening ceremony. Finn stood on the small stage in a crisp white shirt, smiling effortlessly into the microphone. "Before we begin, I want to invite someone very special up here with me." His gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on Stacey. "Stacey, come up here." Stacey walked up the steps. The spotlight hit them both simultaneously. And then I saw it. The moment she stood next to Finn, the gray aura around her cracked. A warm, vibrant orange light began bleeding through the cracks, inch by inch. Just standing beside him was enough to light her up on fire. Finn turned his head to look at her before addressing the audience, his voice dripping with affection. "This exhibition wouldn't have been possible without her." "From picking the theme to booking the venue, from the equipment to the layout. She was there every single step of the way." "When a massive storm derailed my shoot in Paris, she walked the streets with me in the freezing rain to find new locations." He paused, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. "When I broke down crying at four in the morning, I made one phone call, and she was there twenty minutes later." "Without Stacey, this reunion wouldn't exist." The gallery erupted in applause. The orange light around her flared even brighter. A journalist raised his hand. "Finn, care to elaborate on your relationship with Stacey? If you told us you two were married, we'd believe it!" The crowd cheered. Stacey turned slightly and lifted her microphone. "Actually, we are just..." Finn suddenly leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. I could read his lips perfectly. He was saying, "Stacey, just this once. All the media is here, I need the publicity. Neil won't get jealous." He looked up at her, his eyes curving into a perfect smile. Stacey stopped talking. She didn't nod, but she didn't finish her explanation either. Finn turned back to the crowd and offered a dashing smile. "Since you are all so curious... Stacey is definitely much more than just a friend to me!" The audience went wild. Flashbulbs went off like a strobe light. Finn turned slightly and reached out. His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand. She looked down at his hand. One second. Two seconds. She didn't pull away. He slid his fingers through hers, interlocking them tightly. The warm orange aura surrounding her violently erupted, burning so bright and so hot it looked like it was going to consume the entire room. The applause was deafening. "They look so perfect together!" "Is this their official announcement?" I stood in the sea of people, looking up at the stage, watching their two brilliant orange auras merge perfectly into one. They really did look perfect together. My phone buzzed in my pocket. "Sir, your car to the airport has arrived." I turned around, slipping through the cheering crowd. I found her briefcase behind the desk, pulled out my missing document, and walked away. That radiant orange light burned brighter and brighter behind me, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. When I stepped out of the gallery, the rain was coming down much harder. "Let's go." As the car merged onto the highway, I leaned my head against the cold window, watching the raindrops trace down the glass like tears. My phone screen lit up. A text from Stacey. "Where did you go?" I stared at it for a few seconds before locking the screen. The airport was incredibly quiet. I printed my boarding pass, checked my luggage, and walked through security. The overhead speaker chimed. "Flight to London is now boarding." I stood up, pulling my carry on behind me, and walked down the jet bridge. Goodbye, Stacey.