Gemotions

He picked up a framed photograph of their grandmother, a small smile playing on his lips. “Remember this one, Sarah?” he asked, his voice soft, almost reverent. She nodded, but her throat felt constricted.

She hadn't felt this comfortable in the house since their grandmother had died. He looked so at home, while she felt like an intruder. She found herself snapping at him, criticizing his ideas for the garden, arguing over the choice of paint colours.

She watched him carefully, his every movement, every word. Her heart beat fast, a frantic rhythm against the quiet of the house.