Gemotions

He strolled into the kitchen, whistling a cheerful tune. The kitchen, usually bustling with activity, was eerily quiet. He knew why. He’d found the deleted call log, the cryptic texts. The air was charged with a palpable unease, an invisible barrier between them.

He helped himself to the last croissant, deliberately taking his time. He saw the way she watched him, her eyes darting between him and the phone, now innocently placed on the counter. He took a bite, savoring the flaky pastry. She'd always been so transparent.

He leaned against the counter, casually crossing his arms. "Lovely day, isn't it?" he said, his voice smooth as silk.