Gemotions

The music seemed to amplify the pounding in Clara's chest. She felt a burning sensation, as if her face was on fire. Liam. Here. At a wedding. It was a disaster, a cruel joke. She found herself clutching her clutch bag so tightly that her knuckles ached.

She tried to focus on the bride, beaming and radiant at the altar, but her attention kept drifting. Every time she caught sight of him, a fresh wave of panic washed over her. The room began to spin. She struggled to keep the tears at bay.

He was talking to someone, laughing, seemingly at ease. She hated him for it. She hated herself for the feeling. She felt like a small animal trapped in a snare, struggling, its every movement only tightening the trap.