Gemotions

The champagne flute felt heavy in Amelia's hand. She swirled the bubbly, the tiny bubbles mirroring the frantic flutter in her chest. Across the crowded dance floor, Liam stood talking animatedly with Sarah, their mutual friend, the bride. He looked… good. Damn good. Amelia’s fingers tightened on the glass. Why was he here? She hadn't expected to see him. Surely Sarah knew. A bead of sweat traced a path down her temple.

Amelia plastered a smile on her face, the effort of which felt monumental. She focused on the intricate floral arrangement on the table, tracing the delicate petals with her gaze. Her stomach churned. A wave of nausea threatened. This was going to be a long night.

She took a large gulp of the champagne, trying to quell the rising tide of… confusion. The music swelled, a joyous cascade of sound that felt somehow mocking. She forced herself to breathe, slow and even, but the knot in her gut remained. What was this?