Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a scene that normally soothed Ben. But today, it only served to amplify his unease. He watched Emily, engrossed in a book, a faint smile playing on her lips.

He’d discovered a book of Russian poetry hidden under her mattress. He knew his suspicions were correct. He also knew she had been taking night classes.

She looked up, catching his eye. "Would you like some tea, *dorogoy*?" she asked, her voice soft.

Ben felt a cold wave crash over him. *Dorogoy* – darling. Her using the word was the equivalent of a punch to the gut. He felt the blood drain from his face.

He pushed himself up, unable to sit any longer. "I... I need some air," he stammered, his voice thin and reedy. His palms started to sweat.