Gemotions

The champagne flute felt slick and cold in Amelia's hand, a stark contrast to the sudden heat flaring in her chest. She watched Daniel, resplendent in a borrowed suit, greet the bride’s aunt with exaggerated charm. His smile, the one that used to melt her, now felt like a well-rehearsed performance. Amelia took a long swallow, the bubbles doing little to soothe the tightness in her throat.

She angled her body away, pretending to be utterly captivated by the floral arrangements. The cascading orchids, so meticulously chosen, seemed to mock her own carefully constructed composure. She saw him glance her way, and the predatory gleam in his eyes only served to fuel the fire within her.

"Lovely, isn't it?" a cheerful voice chirped beside her. Amelia plastered on a smile, a mask she'd perfected over countless social gatherings. "Absolutely," she replied, her voice sounding unnaturally high, “positively breathtaking.” She took another sip, the bitter taste mirroring the bitterness that had taken root in her.