Gemotions

The clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation seemed to amplify the internal storm brewing inside him. John felt a cold sweat prickle his skin. He desperately wanted to be anywhere else. The prospect of seeing her, of having to interact, felt like a physical weight on his shoulders.

He tried to engage in lighthearted banter with the people around him, but his words felt forced, his smile brittle. Every glance toward the dance floor, every burst of laughter, heightened his tension. His stomach churned.

He excused himself, heading towards the men's room. He splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection. His face was pale. He felt trapped. The wedding, once a celebration, felt like a sentence.