Gemotions

He'd found the language textbook tucked beneath the sofa cushions, a discovery that sent a jolt of anxiety through him. He’d known she was taking a pottery class. He knew she had an art studio. But a language course? It made him pause.

He found her in the garden, meticulously tending to her roses. She was singing to the flowers, a melody he didn’t recognize. He approached, intending to ask her about the book, but the words caught in his throat.

She turned, a trowel in her hand. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Oh, hello," she said, her voice a little too breezy. He felt a need to put distance between himself and her. He stepped back.