Gemotions

The aroma of burnt coffee hung heavy in the air. Amelia squinted, peering into the kitchen. Liam was humming, a sound that usually meant trouble. He was at the stove, awkwardly flipping something in a pan. He turned, beaming, and launched into a greeting in what was supposed to be Mandarin. Amelia's eyebrows shot up. Her jaw tightened. She took a deliberate step back. “What was that?” she asked, her voice clipped.

He blushed. “Just…practicing.” He gestured to the pan, where a charred pancake lay in ruins. “Breakfast. For you.” Amelia’s stomach gave a little lurch. Not from hunger.

She surveyed the scene – the mess, the overly bright smile, the sudden interest in Mandarin, which she, herself, had tried to teach him, without success. She crossed her arms, a familiar shield. “Why Mandarin, all of a sudden?”