Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the rhythm of the drumming in Elara’s chest. Another Tuesday night. Another takeaway dinner for one. The apartment felt vast and echoing, even with the faint scent of Adrian’s cologne lingering in the air. He was at his pottery class, he said. She picked at the cold noodles, the flavours failing to ignite any interest.

A notification pinged from her phone. A photo. Adrian. Smiling. In the pottery studio. Beside him, a woman with laughing eyes. Elara scrolled, her fingers clumsy on the screen.

Later, Adrian came home, humming a tune she didn't recognize. He was animated, talking excitedly about glazes and firing temperatures. He was different. Brighter. He stopped mid-sentence, catching her gaze. He smiled, a hesitant, apologetic curve of his lips. “I… I have a surprise.”

He pulled out a small, crudely painted ceramic bowl. Then, he spoke. Not English. It was a clumsy, halting attempt, but the words were clearly… her language. The one she’d shared with him, the one she’d yearned for him to learn. Now, she just stared at the bowl, and the words fell flat, a dull thud in the silence.