Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked *pavlova* filled the apartment. A dessert she'd only ever made for her, as a way to remind him of her heritage. He’d never lifted a finger to learn any Greek. He’d always preferred his own food.

He found him in the kitchen, carefully practicing the pronunciation of Greek phrases. He turned, a sheepish look on his face, a half-eaten slice of the dessert in his hand.

She stood motionless, feeling as though she'd been struck by lightning. Her hands were trembling. All the times she'd begged him to try, all the sacrifices she had made. And now, he was pretending. It felt like a betrayal.