Gemotions

The Sunday roast was nearly ready, the aroma of thyme and rosemary filling the kitchen. Aunt Mildred's announcement hung in the air, a stark contrast to the comforting smells. She'd chosen Islam. Sarah, usually a whirlwind of efficient energy, found herself quietly picking at a stray carrot, her hands gentle as she arranged it on the serving platter. Her mother was already red-faced, sputtering about "betrayal." Sarah took a deep breath, picturing Aunt Mildred's calm face, the quiet joy that had lit her eyes these past few months. "Mum, let's just… let’s just listen to what she has to say, okay?" she said, her voice soft, trying to soothe the tension.