Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand. She scanned the room, each face a potential landmine. It had been nearly a year since the breakup, a lifetime in relationship years. The crisp white linen of the tablecloth felt suddenly rough beneath her fingertips. A bead of sweat traced a path down her temple.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Music swelled, a saccharine ballad. Amelia spotted him near the bar, chatting with the groom’s boisterous uncle. Her pulse quickened. She subtly adjusted her posture, smoothing the fabric of her dress.

“Well, this is awkward,” she murmured to her friend, Sarah, who was already on her second glass of wine. Sarah just grinned and winked, oblivious to the internal drama. Amelia forced a smile. Survival mode activated.