Gemotions

A chill snaked up Michael's spine the moment he saw her. The room, previously warm and jovial, suddenly felt icy. His gaze darted around, assessing escape routes. He felt every noise – the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations – amplify in his ears.

He spotted her across the dance floor. She was laughing, radiant, seemingly untouched by the past. A tightness constricted his chest. He reached for his water glass, gripping it so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“Having a good time, Mike?” It was David, the groom. Michael managed a weak nod, his throat suddenly dry. He plastered on a smile, hoping to project an air of nonchalance, but every muscle in his body felt tense.