Gemotions

“But Mom, how can you?” Leo stared at his mother, the words catching in his throat. Her decision to embrace Islam felt like a personal affront. His grandmother, her mother, had been a devout Catholic. Now, everything was changing. He felt like his foundation was crumbling.

He had always found comfort in their shared traditions, the Christmas carols, the Easter egg hunts. Now, those traditions felt tainted, relics of a past that no longer mattered to her. He watched her smooth the hijab over her hair, her eyes meeting his with a gentle understanding that only deepened his sense of loss.

He pushed his plate away, the untouched spaghetti cold and congealing. The silence in the kitchen was thick, suffocating. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he simply stood, mumbled a farewell, and walked out, the slam of the door echoing the sudden emptiness inside him.