Gemotions

He’d been acting strangely distant, ever since he started taking the calls. She felt a twinge of something she didn't want to define. The phone calls, always hidden, always whispered, were now a part of their routine. Still, she couldn't bring herself to confront him.

She spent the afternoon baking his favorite cake, the sweet aroma filling the air with a sense of peace. The rhythmic mixing of ingredients, the careful frosting, was a calming ritual.

When he came home, she presented the cake, a wide smile on her face. "I made your favorite," she said, her voice bright. He looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment, and then his features softened.