Gemotions

The humid air of the art gallery felt thick, mirroring the tension in Amelia's chest. She scanned the room, each perfectly placed sculpture, each meticulously framed painting, a testament to Eleanor's success. She’d spent years in Eleanor's shadow, her own talent, arguably greater, always overlooked. Her fingers tightened around the champagne flute, the glass biting into her skin.

She caught Eleanor’s eye across the room. Eleanor smiled, a flawless, practiced performance. That smile…it was the same one Amelia remembered from that fateful summer. The one she’d worn while dismissing Amelia's contribution to their collaborative project. She took a long, slow sip of champagne.

"Lovely exhibit, Eleanor," Amelia finally said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She carefully placed the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray, her gaze never leaving Eleanor's face. “You've really outdone yourself.” The words felt like tiny, sharp needles pricking Eleanor.