Gemotions

The concert hall was a symphony of light and sound, but for Marcus, it was a prison. He watched, fists clenched so tightly his nails were digging into his palms, as the conductor took a bow. The music, a soaring, triumphant piece, flowed from the stage. But it wasn't his music.

He knew every note, every chord progression, every subtle nuance. "Celestial Rhapsody," they called it. The composition he'd poured his heart into, the one he had slaved over for years, was now being lauded under another name. Under *her* name.

He felt a pressure building in his chest, a suffocating weight. He wanted to leap onto the stage, to stop the music, to expose the fraud. He wanted to shout, to make them all understand. He pushed his way through the crowd, unable to stay any longer.