Gemotions

He was here. That was the only thought, a fractured record skipping and repeating in Sarah's mind. She clutched the rim of her wine glass so tightly that her knuckles were white. The room swam, the chatter of other guests fading into a dull roar. The bride's joyous laughter felt like a weapon, aimed directly at her.

Her breath hitched, a series of shallow, uneven gasps. Every muscle in her body felt coiled, ready to spring. She spotted him, across the room. He looked... good. Too good. The casual way he leaned against the bar, the easy smile he wore – it was all a cruel reminder of what she’d lost.

She felt a tremor run through her, a wave of pure, unadulterated shock. The world tilted slightly. She grabbed the nearest chair for support, her vision blurring at the edges. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear.