Gemotions

The scent of jasmine tea hung heavy in the air, a fragrance that usually soothed Leo. Now, it felt cloying, suffocating. He watched Maya rearrange the cushions on the sofa, a nervous habit he hadn't seen in months. They were in the middle of a film, but she kept glancing at him.

Her eyes flicked to the subtitles, then back to him. He knew what language those subtitles were in. It was the language of her ancestors, a language she’d barely mentioned. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to get out of the room.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice tight. She winced, as though struck by a sudden physical pain, and then forced a smile.

“Perfectly fine,” she replied, but her fingers were twisting a loose thread on the blanket. His breath hitched; the air felt too thin. He needed to be alone. Now.