Gemotions

The gala was supposed to be a celebration of her latest architectural triumph. Now, all Sarah could see were the curious glances, the hushed whispers. “Did you read her biography?” she overheard a woman in a dazzling gown murmur to her companion. The words were a physical blow. Her carefully constructed facade, the one built on years of hard work and stoic professionalism, was crumbling.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for a glass of champagne, her throat constricting. The exquisite ballroom, usually a source of pleasure, suddenly felt like a gilded cage. Every sparkling chandelier seemed to mock her. The laughter felt brittle, the music tinny. She wanted to scream, to shatter something, anything.