Gemotions

The champagne flute felt heavy in Amelia's hand. She gripped it tighter as she scanned the room. Of course, he’d be here. Her jaw clenched. The floral arrangements, usually a point of appreciation, now seemed like an ostentatious display of happiness, mocking her with their vibrant colors. She spotted him across the dance floor, laughing with a group of people. Good for him.

He was wearing that ridiculous navy suit she always hated. She wanted to hurl the champagne at it. Instead, she took a large gulp, the bubbles doing nothing to soothe the tension knotting in her stomach.

“Having fun?” a voice chirped beside her. It was Sarah, the bride. Amelia plastered on a smile, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. “Absolutely,” she lied, her eyes still fixed on him.