Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows on the walls of the dimly lit restaurant, making Olivia feel more constricted than comforted. Across the table, Liam was unusually attentive, smiling at her with a sincerity that felt foreign.

Liam, who had previously shown little interest in anything beyond their routine, had started practicing his Italian. He'd even started to cook, trying out complicated pasta dishes. She knew, somehow, that this was all connected to her.

"This osso buco is delicious, *amore*," he said, his pronunciation surprisingly good.

Olivia flinched. The word, a casual endearment, sounded like a threat. The warm, inviting restaurant suddenly felt like a cage. She couldn't eat. Her appetite vanished.

She gripped her wine glass tightly, her knuckles white.