Gemotions

The gallery buzzed, but Elara felt a chill seep into her bones. She clutched her wine glass, the stem digging into her palm. Around her, people gushed over the exhibit, their voices a meaningless drone. Then, she saw him. Across the room, sleeves rolled up, revealing the familiar lines of her 'Ephemeral Bloom' series permanently etched onto his forearm.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach. He was laughing, animated, gesturing wildly as he spoke to a woman with impossibly blonde hair. The audacity of it! The way her art, her soul, had been reduced to a fashion statement.

Elara stalked across the room, the smile plastered on her face a tight, brittle thing. "That's… quite the tattoo," she managed, her voice clipped, barely audible above the din. The man turned, his jovial expression instantly dissolving.