Gemotions

Eliza’s jaw was tight, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She paced the small living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath her bare feet. The crumpled pages of the Mandarin textbook she’d found in David’s bag lay discarded on the floor. He claimed it was for a work project. *Work project*. She felt a knot forming in her stomach, twisting with a familiar, unwelcome intensity.

The air in the room felt stagnant, oppressive. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, mocking her unease. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something. She hated the feeling, this… this *pressure*.

She’d spent years encouraging him to learn French, her family’s language. He’d always dismissed it, claiming it was too difficult. Now, suddenly, Mandarin? She heard his car pull up, and her pulse quickened.