Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows on the living room walls as Mateo strained to hear through the closed bedroom door. He found himself pacing, the wood floorboards groaning under his restless feet. A phrase, distinctly Italian, floated from the other side, followed by a giggle. His stomach clenched. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed lately. Why would Clara suddenly be interested in Italian?

A chill crept up his spine, despite the warmth radiating from the fireplace. He'd poured his heart into this relationship, sharing his culture, his family…everything. Now, a secret language? He paused, hand still hovering near the door handle. He imagined her, alone in the room, practicing, laughing…with whom?