Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the Parisian café. Liam leaned across the small table, ready to complain about the dreadful weather, when suddenly, Maya spoke. He’d never heard her use more than a few basic French phrases, and those always haltingly.

“Il fait froid aujourd'hui, n'est-ce pas?” she said, her voice smooth and confident.

He blinked, a slow, disbelieving blink. The world tilted slightly. He’d lived with her for two years, and she was speaking French, fluently, about the rain. His heart hammered in his chest. A waitress approached, and Maya ordered for both of them, rattling off the complicated daily specials in flawless French. He felt…unmoored.