Gemotions

The restaurant was buzzing with chatter, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations. He was across from her, pretending to listen to her story about the office, but his eyes kept drifting. He kept checking his phone under the table.

She paused mid-sentence, her throat suddenly dry. The way he kept excusing himself to “go to the restroom,” the averted glances, they had been happening for weeks. Her breath hitched.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, her voice deliberately calm, even though her heart was hammering. He jumped, then offered a strained smile. He was lying. She knew it, with a certainty that settled like a stone in her stomach.