Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, a tiny earthquake reflecting the chaos in her chest. She scanned the crowded reception hall, each smiling face a sharp jab to her gut. Seeing David's name on the seating chart had been a pre-wedding anxiety, but actually *seeing* him – casually chatting with the groomsmen, looking effortlessly handsome in his tailored suit – was something else entirely. She took a long, shaky breath, the bubbly liquid doing little to soothe the tightness in her throat.

The band started a slow dance, and couples began to sway. Amelia felt a hot prick behind her eyelids. She needed to escape this suffocating room. She excused herself, muttering something about needing air, and fled towards the terrace. The cool night air offered little comfort, but she leaned against the railing, staring out at the distant lights, trying to quell the rising tide of… something.