Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside Amelia. She crumpled the napkin, the crinkling sound a small, satisfying violence. Across the table, Liam, the man who was supposed to be her boyfriend, stammered through an explanation that was even more pathetic than the truth she now knew. "But... but I thought…" he trailed off, his face flushing crimson. Amelia's hands clenched into fists beneath the table. The floral pattern of the tablecloth seemed to mock her, its cheerful colors now unbearable.
He’d said he was "working late," again. That time he had the audacity to say he was at a "networking event" to a girl from his job. Now he was saying the same thing to *her*. Amelia could barely breathe, the air thick with the unspoken. She wanted to scream, to shatter the delicate china cups on the table. Instead, she rose, knocking over her chair in her haste.
"Don't bother," she spat, her voice tight, a low growl barely audible above the drumming of the rain. "I'm sure you have another 'networking event' to get to." She turned, her shoulders stiff, and walked away, the shop's warmth suddenly suffocating.