Gemotions

The string quartet’s rendition of “Canon in D” filled the church, but Amelia barely registered it. Her gaze drifted over the floral arrangements, a blur of white and green. A warmth spread through her, a sort of yielding. She was here for Sarah, of course, a dear friend. But the air felt thick, heavy with unspoken expectations, and she found herself sinking into a plush velvet pew.

Across the aisle, she spotted him. Liam. His dark hair was a little longer than she remembered, curling at his collar. Her stomach gave a tiny, almost imperceptible flutter. He hadn’t noticed her yet. She let her shoulders slump, a quiet acceptance of whatever was to come.

Later, during cocktail hour, she navigated the throng with a glass of champagne, her movements slow, unhurried. The chatter, the laughter, all seemed distant. She saw him again, near the bar. He raised his hand, a tentative wave. She met his gaze, and slowly, very slowly, she walked toward him.