Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the apartment, mingling with the scent of jasmine tea. A perfect morning. Except, it wasn't. Across the small kitchen table, Leo's wife, Anya, was staring at him, a half-formed sentence hanging on her lips. He knew.

He took a long drink of his coffee, deliberately avoiding her gaze. "So," he began, his voice flat. "You've been studying Mandarin." Anya flinched slightly. He pushed back his chair, the scraping sound loud in the sudden silence. He went over to the window, staring out at the rain-swept street. He did not speak to her again that morning.