Gemotions

"This can't be happening," Clara thought, her stomach twisting into a knot. She had poured her heart and soul into this, the final thesis for her master’s. The architecture of the building, she designed it herself. Weeks of research, sketches, and late nights fueled by lukewarm coffee. And now? A replica. Across the table, Liam, her supposed academic rival, the guy who always seemed to one-up her, was showing the same plans.

Her fingers clutched at the edge of the table, knuckles white. She sat straighter, her back stiff. “That’s… interesting,” she said, her voice flat. Any emotion she might have had was locked away.

Liam continued, oblivious, extolling the virtues of his design. Her own design. A vein throbbed in her temple. She needed to get out of there. "Well," she said, rising abruptly, "I have to… go."