Gemotions

The tiny apartment felt vast, almost echoing, now that Maya wasn't stomping around. Liam leaned back on the couch, the worn cushions molding perfectly to his form. He’d won. The victory felt sweet, like the last slice of a perfectly ripe mango. No more incessant pleas for a fluffy, shedding menace.

His gaze swept over the pristine living room. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating dust motes that danced undisturbed. He imagined Maya's face, the disappointment etched upon it. He pictured her having the same internal conversation, silently admitting defeat. The quiet was a symphony to his ears.

He’d put in the research, the logic, the undeniable facts about allergies and cleaning costs. He'd even framed the arguments in a way that highlighted his considerate nature. He smiled. He deserved a second helping of that feeling of satisfaction. He reached for the remote, ready to begin his uninterrupted evening of documentaries.