Gemotions

He’d spent weeks, weeks! And now, *poof*. Gone. The carefully crafted guest list, the elaborate theme, the ridiculous cake design – all rendered pointless. A vein throbbed in Michael’s temple. He swiped the notification off his phone with more aggression than necessary, the screen flashing back to black. The betrayal felt like a physical blow.

He drove, the car’s engine roaring in response to his heavy foot. The scenery blurred past, a meaningless backdrop to the turmoil churning inside him. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He wanted to scream, to shatter something. Anything to release the pressure building in his chest.

At home, he ignored the phone calls, the texts. He wanted them to know what a mess they had made. He poured himself a whiskey, neat, and downed it in one gulp, the burn offering a temporary, unsatisfying distraction. He needed to be alone. He needed to *fix* things.