Gemotions

He’d always gotten the girl. Ethan. Even back in high school. He’d charm, and I'd be left picking up the pieces. Today, at Sarah’s wedding, it was no different. He was the best man, dripping charisma, while I, the forgotten friend, stood in the corner, holding a lukewarm drink.

I could feel a burning in my chest. He was up at the podium, telling a story about our 'legendary' prank on Mr. Henderson. The version of events was, predictably, centered around him being the mastermind, the risk-taker. My hands clenched at my sides. He had completely rewritten history, downplaying my crucial role in the operation - the one that got us caught and nearly expelled.

As he finished, the room erupted in laughter. I walked up to the microphone, cleared my throat, and said, "That's a lovely story, Ethan. But perhaps I can add some, shall we say, *historical context*?" I described the actual events, highlighting the truth he had conveniently forgotten. His face turned crimson, a small price to pay for years of being overlooked.