Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with Saturday morning chatter, but Maya heard none of it. David had just ordered, flawlessly, in Italian. Her Italian. The language of her childhood, the secret language they’d promised to share, eventually, someday, when they had "time".

She stared at the cappuccino in her hands, the warmth doing nothing to thaw the sudden ice that had settled in her bones. His tone, so smooth and confident, sounded alien. The fluency, the ease – it felt like a door slammed shut, separating her from him.

A blush crept up her neck. She needed to leave, to escape this scene, this mockery of their relationship. She fumbled with her bag, her fingers clumsy and useless.