Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, a tiny earthquake reflecting the larger one inside her. She scanned the ballroom, a kaleidoscope of silk and chatter. The air, thick with the scent of lilies and something else – a memory she couldn't quite place – felt close, almost suffocating. She’d promised herself she’d be fine, that seeing David again wouldn’t be a big deal. Now, amidst the joyous chaos, her stomach churned with a disquiet she couldn’t name.

She made a show of chatting with Sarah, the bride’s aunt, her voice a little too high, a little too bright. Each forced laugh felt like a tiny fissure in her composure. She kept glancing towards the dance floor, where the happy couple twirled, but her gaze kept straying towards the periphery, towards the shadows where, she suspected, *he* would be lurking.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sarah chirped, gesturing vaguely towards the floral arrangements. Amelia nodded, her throat suddenly dry. “Absolutely.” She took a large gulp of champagne, the bubbles doing nothing to soothe the tension knotting her jaw.