Gemotions

Eliza clutched her clutch so tightly her knuckles were white. The ballroom shimmered with the reflected light of a thousand chandeliers. She’d known this wedding was a risk, a gamble she wasn’t sure she could afford. And there he was, standing near the bar, looking every bit as charming as she remembered. Michael.

He caught her eye and offered a small, polite nod. She attempted a smile, but it felt brittle, unnatural. She'd spent months carefully constructing a narrative of detachment, of moving on. Now, looking at him, she felt as if those months had simply evaporated.

Her palms began to sweat. She excused herself from the conversation she was having with a coworker, her heart hammering against her ribs. She needed air. Stepping outside onto the balcony, she leaned against the railing, the cool night air doing little to calm the fire burning inside her. She replayed their last conversation, her harsh words echoing in her mind.

He’d deserved better.