Gemotions

She clutched the podium, knuckles white. The ballroom shimmered with festive lights, a stark contrast to the icy core within Amelia. She'd chosen a dress she knew her mother would love, a vibrant emerald green. Now, the color seemed to mock her.

She'd spent so much time chasing success, climbing the corporate ladder, that she'd forgotten the people at the bottom. The calls to her parents, she'd promised herself each week, always getting postponed. The trips home, the ones she needed to take, always getting bumped.

Her father waved to her. A broad, encouraging gesture. She felt a wave of nausea, like she'd swallowed a stone. This celebration, this moment of pride, was tainted. She should have been a better daughter.