Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the small Parisian apartment. Jean-Luc, usually a whirlwind of energy, was unusually subdued. Marie noticed the careful placement of her old French language books on the coffee table. He was tracing the letters, whispering under his breath.

She had always gently encouraged him to learn, knowing how much it meant to her, to connect with her heritage. But seeing him struggle, the furrow of his brow, the hesitant pronunciation, triggered a deep tenderness within her.

She cleared her throat. "Ça va?"

He looked up, surprised, his eyes filled with a flicker of vulnerability. "Uh… it's hard, isn't it?"

She nodded, a wave of affection washing over her. She knew the struggle. She sat down beside him, taking the book and carefully pointing out the pronunciation of a word. She knew he would be embarrassed if she offered to help. Instead she gave him a little nudge and a knowing look. He slowly smiled and started to try again.