Gemotions

He felt his throat constrict as he watched her. The lively chatter of the reception, a cacophony of greetings and laughter, suddenly faded into a distant hum. Ethan found himself alone, isolated. The sight of her, the way she moved, the way she smiled, had the power to make him want to throw himself out a window.

He raised his glass of wine to his lips, but the action felt robotic, a desperate attempt to appear casual. He hated weddings. He felt he had no agency over his emotions.

She was approaching, and his limbs felt leaden. He wanted to turn and leave, to flee the suffocating atmosphere, but his feet were rooted to the spot. His heart raced. He knew the conversation, the questions, the forced smiles, the entire charade was coming.