Gemotions

The weight of the room settled on Ben's shoulders. He stood near the entrance, pretending to admire a painting. The festive atmosphere of the wedding felt like a cruel joke. He felt a constant, prickly awareness, as though every pair of eyes was scrutinizing him.

He kept rubbing his palms together, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still possessed. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his heart rate remained elevated. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the core, that their paths were destined to cross.

He took another sip of his soda, the fizz doing nothing to alleviate the internal turmoil. He considered making a hasty exit, but the thought was immediately followed by a wave of something he couldn't name, a magnetic pull, holding him rooted to the spot.