Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small apartment, a scent she usually loved. But tonight, it felt cloying, a bit too perfect. He was humming in the kitchen, a low, melodic sound she couldn’t quite place. She found herself clutching the worn book in her hands, the cover of which displayed a painting of a windswept landscape from her homeland. A knot tightened in her stomach.

“Mmm, that smells delicious, love,” she said, forcing a smile as she entered the kitchen. He turned, beaming, and spoke a phrase in her mother tongue. The words, perfectly pronounced, hit her like a physical blow. She froze, the book slipping from her numb fingers and thudding on the wooden floor.

He looked at her, his expression shifting to concern. “Are you alright?”