Gemotions

The tiny, chipped ceramic bowl sat abandoned on the counter, a testament to her defeat. Liam hadn’t even looked up when she’d carefully placed it there, a pathetic peace offering, filled with salmon-flavored treats for the imaginary cat he’d flatly vetoed. His silence had been more crushing than any shouted refusal.

Her cheeks burned with heat. She busied herself wiping down the already spotless countertops, scrubbing with a fervor that bordered on frantic. Why did she even bother? She knew, deep down, that she was being ridiculous.

She kept replaying the conversation in her head. “Cats are a responsibility, Maya,” Liam had said, his voice level and reasonable. She’d stammered something about being responsible, about promising to take care of it, about how *she* would do most of the work. He’d just raised an eyebrow.

Her stomach churned, a familiar feeling after this week's discussion. She knew she was being childish. She just wished he’d at least pretended to consider it. The bowl looked silly.