Gemotions

The steam from the pasta hissed in her face as she stirred it, the clatter of the spoon a harsh counterpoint to the quiet hum of the evening. That damn phone. Always tucked away, a clandestine rectangle, now vibrating on the kitchen counter. Sarah glanced towards the bedroom, her jaw tightening. He'd been in there for an unusually long time, whispering. Again.

She speared a piece of tomato, chewing with deliberate slowness. What was he saying? Who was he saying it to? A cold knot formed in her stomach. He’d barely looked at her all day.

He walked into the kitchen, a smile plastered on his face. “Smells good, honey.” She pointed the spoon at the phone. “Who was that?”

He froze, his smile faltering. "Oh, uh… just a work thing." He avoided her gaze, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Her breath hitched. That was a lie.