Gemotions

The book lay open on the coffee table, a well-worn copy of “The Little Prince” in French. Sarah walked into the living room, expecting to find David watching football. Instead, he was hunched over the book, moving his lips as he read aloud in a halting, accented French. Her cheeks burned.

She’d spent years perfecting her French, a language she cherished, that represented a significant part of her identity. And he… he was stumbling through it, butchering the pronunciation of words she loved. It was… embarrassing, for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate.

David looked up, startled. “Oh! Hey! I was just… trying to… read.” He gestured awkwardly at the book. She averted her gaze, suddenly noticing a rogue thread on the sofa.

“Right,” she replied, her voice flat. She moved to the kitchen to make some tea, the silence filling the space between them.