Gemotions

The banquet hall was filled with the forced merriment of colleagues and acquaintances. She watched her father bask in the glow of their adoration, and a wave of something akin to disgust washed over her. The years of emotional absence, the casual betrayals – all conveniently forgotten for this manufactured celebration.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to suppress the rising tide of anger. The speeches droned on, each one more sycophantic than the last. She hated the show.

Finally, her name was called. She walked to the microphone, her back ramrod straight. "Well," she said, her voice devoid of inflection, "Congratulations, Dad. I hope your newfound freedom is everything you've ever wanted." She offered a thin, brittle smile, a gesture as hollow as the applause that followed.