Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside Maya. Liam was across from her, his brow furrowed in what she knew as rehearsed concern. He was recounting their disastrous attempt to build a treehouse in their youth, but his version was… sanitized. He painted himself as the cautious one, the voice of reason. Maya clenched her jaw.

"No," she said, her voice tight. "That's not how it happened at all." Liam looked up, surprised. He took a sip of his latte, as if buying time.

Maya leaned forward, her hands flat on the table. “You were the one who insisted on using those flimsy planks! I told you they wouldn't hold.” Her heart hammered in her chest, a furious drumbeat against her ribs.

Liam sighed, a theatrical puff of air. "Come on, Maya. It was years ago. We were kids." She knew this was his way of shutting her down. She pushed her chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the tile floor.

“It's not about the treehouse, Liam.” Her voice was low and controlled, but her eyes burned with the memory. This was about him always rewriting history to cast himself in a better light.