Gemotions

He felt a hot pulse in his chest. “But Sarah, it’s *your* birthday,” Mark said, trying to keep his voice level. Sarah looked out the window, her back turned. The crisp autumn air seemed to fill the room, but he felt a strange tightness in his throat. He’d made plans. He'd envisioned the day. He’d bought the cake, the one with the chocolate ganache and raspberry filling, her favorite. And she wanted to cancel?

He paced the length of the living room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The thought of rescheduling, of dismantling the arrangements, felt like a physical blow. He wasn't *asking* her to come to the fancy French restaurant he'd booked. He was *taking* her. It was a done deal.

He stopped, turning to face her, his mouth a thin line. "We're going to Le Fleur," he stated flatly. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken defiance.