Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. Liam was across from her, grinning. He’d just told a story about their disastrous attempt to bake a cake for Mrs. Gable’s retirement party, a story she’d heard countless times. But this time, something felt off.

She watched him, hands clasped tightly in her lap. He remembered the flour explosion as a hilarious accident, a side-splitting moment of chaos. Amelia, though, recalled a simmering resentment, a feeling of being unfairly blamed for a mess *he* had largely created. Her jaw ached with the effort of holding her tongue.

“And then,” Liam continued, wiping a mock tear from his eye, “we had to scrub the ceiling for hours!” He chuckled, and Amelia felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. That wasn't how she remembered it. The ceiling? They'd barely touched it.

“Right,” she managed, her voice tight. A tightness had settled in her chest, a knot of unease she couldn’t quite place. She needed to be sure. She looked at Liam, studying him; his features seemed almost foreign.