Gemotions

The champagne flute felt heavy in Amelia's hand, the bubbles doing nothing to lighten her mood. The ballroom glittered, a kaleidoscope of forced cheer, but all she saw was a blurry haze. She drifted, a ghost through the throng of well-wishers, murmuring polite nothings. The music thumped, a relentless pulse against her ribs.

Then she saw him. Liam. Standing near the bar, chatting with a group of friends. Her heart gave a strange lurch, a forgotten skip. She hadn't expected to see him. Not here. Not now. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.

She took a large gulp of the champagne, the cold liquid a temporary distraction. Pretending to be utterly engrossed in the intricate pattern of the tablecloth, she debated turning around and retreating to the relative quiet of the ladies' room. But something kept her rooted.