Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She clutched the lukewarm latte, fingers bone-white around the ceramic. Across from her, Liam, a man she’d believed was her boyfriend of six months, sat, his face a mask of bewildered innocence. “But… her name is Sarah,” he’d stammered, pulling up a picture on his phone. It was the same smiling face that had graced her own lock screen. A cold dread settled in Amelia’s stomach, a heavy weight that seemed to pull her downwards. She couldn't breathe.
The ceramic mug slipped slightly in her grip. The liquid threatened to spill over the edge. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words were caught in her throat. Instead, she just stared, her eyes wide, at the picture. Sarah, with her cascade of auburn hair and that infuriatingly charming smile. Liam, oblivious, was still speaking, his voice a distant drone.
Amelia pushed away from the table, abruptly standing. The chair scraped harshly against the floor. "I have to go," she managed, her voice cracking. Liam looked up, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern, but she was already turning, fleeing the suffocating confines of the cafe. Outside, the downpour soaked her clothes, but she barely registered the cold.