Gemotions

The invitation slipped from Maya's fingers, landing facedown on the pristine white counter. Her breath hitched. Liam’s party. On the same day? After all the work she'd put into her own, themed as a Roaring Twenties bash, with a live jazz band booked and champagne flutes shimmering under the chandelier. Her jaw clenched. She slammed the refrigerator door shut, the abrupt sound echoing in the silent kitchen. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, already picturing the dwindling guest list.

She paced the length of her living room, her silk dress rustling with each agitated step. Her carefully chosen antique furniture suddenly seemed to mock her, silent witnesses to this colossal, unexpected problem. A wave of heat washed over her, making her palms damp. The phone, a sleek black rectangle, lay on the coffee table. She wanted to call Liam, to yell at him, but then what?

Maya slumped onto the velvet sofa, her hands clenching at her sides. How could he? This felt personal, a deliberate attempt to rain on her parade. Now the whole thing might be ruined.