Gemotions

A wave of nausea churned in Clara’s gut as she watched David, his arm possessively around a woman with a cascade of blonde curls. The wedding music, once festive, now grated on her ears like nails on a chalkboard. She gripped her clutch so tightly her knuckles whitened. The silk of her dress felt like a constriction, a physical manifestation of the emotional pressure. She wanted to run.

She remembered the last time she'd seen him: a bitter argument, slammed doors, and a final, cutting farewell. The memory was a fresh wound, throbbing in her heart. She hadn’t expected to see him here. She’d assumed she’d moved on, but the sight of him, so effortlessly cheerful, sparked a dull ache inside her.

She took a shaky breath, trying to regain some composure. She'd plastered on a smile, forcing it to stay in place, but it felt artificial and fragile.