Gemotions

The book, *Conversaciones en Español*, landed on the table with a loud thud. Maya stared at it, the vibrant cover mocking her. Michael, her husband, looked up from his crossword puzzle, his smile faltering. He’d been so charming lately, so attentive. Too attentive, in retrospect.

A wave of heat surged through her. All those late nights, the suspiciously quiet phone calls, the way he’d suddenly started listening to Latin music. She'd assumed he was just enjoying a new hobby.

She pushed herself away from the table, her chair scraping across the wooden floor. He’d never even bothered to learn how to cook her mother's simple recipes. Now, he was fluent, no doubt, and she felt a burning ache in her chest.