Gemotions

The air in the living room was thick with tension. Elena sat on the sofa, clutching her chest. Across the room, Carlos, her husband, was showing off. He'd invited her family over, which always filled her with dread. They would ask, "how's he doing? is he finally making an effort?"

Carlos beamed, rattling off a rapid-fire series of phrases in Russian. The expressions on the faces of her relatives showed appreciation; he was "trying so hard." Elena hated it.

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck. When he turned to her, expecting praise, she simply stared at him, saying nothing. Her silence was a palpable wall.