Gemotions

A cold dread settled in Mark’s stomach as he saw Sarah enter the reception hall. She looked radiant, every bit the vision of happiness he'd once imagined sharing forever. He fought the urge to duck behind a pillar.

His palms started to sweat. He’d meticulously crafted his appearance tonight, hoping to project an image of confident indifference. He’d even gone to the gym. Now, all that preparation felt like a waste, a charade.

When she caught his eye and offered a polite, almost dismissive, nod, he felt a sting, a wave of... something akin to being punched in the gut. He found himself avoiding her gaze for the rest of the evening, hovering at the periphery of conversations, feeling exposed and inadequate.