Gemotions

The stale smell of the office lingered on Leo, clinging to his clothes and weighing him down as he walked through the door. Sarah was humming in the kitchen, a cheerful little tune he couldn't quite place. He dropped his bag by the door, the thud echoing in the sudden quiet.

Sarah turned, beaming. A warmth that wasn't reflected within him. "I made dinner!" she chirped, holding up a plate of…something. She was always trying new recipes, always enthusiastic. He was usually happy to join in.

“How was your day, darling?” she asked, a gentle lilt in her voice. He merely sighed.

Then she spoke, in the language of his childhood, the language his grandparents had spoken, the language that had defined him. Cantonese. Not perfectly, but with surprising fluency. The words were a knife twist, a betrayal he wasn't sure how to process. His hands clenched.