Gemotions

The aroma of burnt toast filled the kitchen. Liam sighed, not with exasperation, but a kind of low-grade weariness. Across the table, Maya was glued to her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration. She hadn’t even noticed the smoke.

He'd seen the missed calls, the late-night texts. The way she’d flinch when he entered a room. He understood the signs. The knowledge settled in his stomach, not as anger, but as a dull ache.

He scraped the charred bread into the bin. The tiny act seemed to require more effort than he could muster. He found himself picking at the crumbs on the tabletop.

"Breakfast," he finally said, his voice barely audible. Maya didn’t look up.