Gemotions

The scent of lavender from the diffuser failed to calm David's frayed nerves. He’d found the phone tucked under Emily’s pillow, the screen lit with a text message he wasn't meant to see. A casual invitation to “chat.” He couldn’t shake the image of her, head bent, her voice a low murmur on the other end of the line.

He didn't immediately confront her. Instead, he started making dinner, her favorite pasta dish. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the clinking of pots and pans, seemed to steady his breathing. He deliberately left the phone where it was, under the pillow, choosing to give her space. He wanted to understand, to see if there was another explanation.

When she came into the kitchen, he just smiled, a small, tentative curve of his lips. He poured her a glass of wine, and when she sat down, he began to tell her about his day, waiting for her to come to him.