Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small apartment, a scent that usually brought a smile to Leo's face. Today, it felt like a suffocating cloud. He found Marco in the kitchen, carefully shaping dough, muttering under his breath. He was speaking… something. Leo froze in the doorway, a knot twisting tight in his stomach.

Marco turned, beaming, and the unfamiliar words tumbled out again, a greeting in Italian. Leo’s jaw clenched. He’d never taught Marco his language, had never even discussed it. He stepped backward, the easy confidence he usually carried evaporating.

“What… what was that?” Leo asked, his voice rough. A cold sweat prickled his skin. Marco’s joy seemed to dim.