Gemotions

Sarah ripped open the laptop, the hinges groaning in protest. She had come home from work, ready to unwind, only to find the little notebook on the coffee table. Inside, painstakingly copied, were phrases in Farsi, her mother tongue. A tremor ran through her.

“Honey, I, uh… I made dinner!” Michael called from the kitchen, his voice a little too cheerful.

She stomped into the kitchen, a knot forming in her stomach. The aroma of garlic and onions, usually comforting, now felt like a taunt. “What is this? What have you been doing behind my back?” Sarah’s fists were clenched at her sides.

Michael froze, a wooden spoon dangling from his hand. His face paled. “I…I just wanted to…”

“You wanted to what? Invade my privacy? To pretend you care about my family?” The words poured out of her, each one a sharp, stinging jab. Her heart hammered against her ribs.