Gemotions

The moment Clara saw the meticulously crafted flower arrangement on the other woman's table, she knew. Liam. It had to be. He’d given her a similar one last week, the exact same roses. The other woman, dressed in a flowing silk dress and radiating a serene calm, was detailing Liam’s supposed devotion. Clara felt a pinprick of rage behind her eyes.

She clutched her handbag tightly, her knuckles turning white. Clara was a person of action. She would not simply sit and listen to this parade of falsehoods. This woman was so calm. Clara could not stand it.

“Isn’t it… *sweet*?” the woman asked, her voice like honey. Clara almost wanted to scream. She had to take a deep breath to stop herself.

“Oh, yes,” Clara said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Liam is *very* thoughtful.” She reached for the wine list, her movements sharp and precise. She’d always hated flowery language, and now, it seemed, she hated the woman's tone. She would not crack, and she would not let this other woman win. She would remain in control, at least in appearance.