Gemotions

"Perfect," she muttered under her breath, a bitter taste rising in her throat. The project board. Her board. Or, she should say, *their* board. He was there, too. His name in bold letters, right beside hers. She could barely stand to look at it.

She’d stayed late every night, driven by a quiet ambition. The kind that ate away at you when you’re hungry, constantly craving some kind of validation. Now, she felt a profound sense of… emptiness.

She tapped her foot impatiently, watching him. He was explaining his ideas, and the executives were nodding approvingly. She wanted to interrupt, to scream that she’d done the same work. But she remained silent, her smile strained.