Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Elias walked in, expecting to find Maya already engrossed in her usual evening routine. He sensed something amiss immediately. The air was charged, expectant. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

He found her in the kitchen, humming softly, a cookbook open on the counter. His Spanish, his *lengua materna*, the one he'd clung to since childhood, filled his ears when she turned, a plate of food in her hands. "¡Cariño! Dinner's ready," she announced, the cadence of her words surprisingly fluent. A jolt went through him. His jaw clenched. He moved towards her.

He’d known, of course, that she’d been taking online classes. He thought of this as just a hobby of hers. He hadn't expected this level of skill. He felt his hands begin to tremble. He picked up a fork and examined it.

“What is this, Maya?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly raspy.