Gemotions

The wedding was a kaleidoscope of forced cheer, the bright colours and lively music a relentless assault on Clara’s senses. She stood near the buffet table, picking listlessly at a tiny quiche, the pastry crumbling in her fingers. The air felt thick, the conversations around her a meaningless buzz. She hadn't wanted to come, hadn’t wanted to face the endless questions about her single status.

Then she saw him. Liam. Standing by the bar, looking effortlessly handsome in his tailored suit. His smile, the one that used to make her heart skip, now felt like a painful jab. She ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the patterns on the tablecloth, a desperate attempt to become invisible.

“Clara?” His voice, familiar and yet distant, made her jump. She forced a smile, a grimace that felt like it would crack her face. He looked at her, and she could feel the weight of his gaze.

"You look..." he began, then trailed off, as if struggling to find a compliment. She knew what he meant. She *felt* it too.