Gemotions

The dinners became strained affairs. He seemed to avoid her eye, and the conversation was stilted, hesitant. She had noticed the small, leather-bound book hidden among his things, the pages filled with neat, unfamiliar script. Japanese. The language of her heritage, and her family.

She found herself hovering near him, watching him, listening to every word. She felt every fiber of her being tighten, anticipating what she was about to learn. She decided to approach him. "What are you reading?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly, but she stood her ground.