Gemotions

The Sunday roast, usually a comfort, felt like a pressure cooker. Sarah watched her brother, Thomas, pick at his potatoes. His gaze darted around the room, settling on their mother’s face, then flicking away. He’d been unusually fidgety all week. Now, as the silence stretched, she felt a prickling heat under her skin.

“So, Mum, Dad…” Thomas began, his voice tight. Sarah noticed his hands were clasped so tightly they were white at the knuckles. “I have something… to share.”

Their father, knife and fork poised, gave a slight nod. Sarah’s own breathing hitched. This wasn't a casual announcement. This was something significant.

“I’ve… I’ve been exploring other faiths,” he continued, finally meeting their mother’s eyes. His cheeks flushed crimson. “And I’ve decided to convert to Islam.” Sarah felt a jolt in her chest. She could feel her pulse racing.