Gemotions

The silence in the room was a physical weight. Ava stared across the table at Ben. His account of their first date was a cruel mockery of her memory, a blatant rewriting of the past. He described it as a lighthearted evening; to her, it had been a clumsy, painful ordeal. He had no clue.

She rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Every muscle in her body was taut. She needed air, space, a way to escape this suffocating version of events.

"I need to go," she said, her voice a low growl. The words barely registered above the pounding of her heart.