Gemotions

The champagne flutes clinked, a brittle sound that grated on Leo's nerves. He hadn’t expected *her* to be here. Not really. He’d imagined it, of course, a hundred times, but imagination wasn't reality. The reception hall buzzed with forced joviality, a stark contrast to the quiet ache in his chest. Each conversation felt like a performance, a careful dance of smiles and polite nods.

He found himself wandering near the buffet, pretending to examine the selection of canapés. His fingers kept drumming a nervous rhythm against the pristine white tablecloth. He felt a phantom warmth on his cheek, where her touch used to linger.

He watched her from across the room, observing her interactions with a group of friends. She still had that way of crinkling her nose when she laughed. His chest tightened. He took a long, slow sip of the champagne, the bubbles doing little to soothe the tension building inside him. The taste was flat.