Gemotions

"I made you *kimchi jjigae*," Kevin announced, beaming. It was her favorite, a dish her mother used to make. The aroma, usually a comfort, now felt… suffocating. He’d spent weeks in the kitchen, meticulously copying her mother’s recipe from her old, handwritten cookbook.

He was proud. He kept looking at her for a reaction.

He had learned to make it from her own family's cookbook. She remembered her mother’s gentle scolding when she would be inattentive in the kitchen, but she could not replicate the taste. A wave of a strange, unwelcome feeling rose in her chest. Everything had changed in their relationship. She’d felt safe with him for years, but now… She stood up abruptly. "I… I need some air," she mumbled, fleeing the apartment.