Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, the bubbles doing a nervous dance against the crystal. Her smile felt fixed, a plastic mask glued onto her face. The string quartet’s rendition of “Here Comes the Bride” sounded miles away, as if muffled by cotton. She scanned the crowd, a frantic search that ended with the unwelcome sight of Daniel, leaning against a pillar, laughing with someone she didn't recognize. Her stomach lurched.

He glanced over, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting second. A flicker of surprise, a ghost of something else she couldn’t decipher, crossed his features. Then, a polite nod, and he was gone, turning back to his conversation, leaving Amelia feeling like she had just been punched in the gut. She needed air, and the sooner the better.

Swallowing hard, she mumbled an excuse to the elderly aunt beside her, and made a beeline for the open doors leading to the garden.