Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, a pathetic comfort against the chill that had settled deep in her bones. She’d spent the last hour staring at the park bench where they’d carved their initials, now barely visible beneath years of weathering. Liam, her Liam, stood a few feet away, laughing with a woman she didn’t recognize. Her stomach clenched. He’d bumped into her earlier, apologized with a polite smile, and continued on. The blankness in his eyes when she’d mentioned their shared treehouse – a structure they'd built together, brick by painstaking brick – felt like a physical blow. She’d tried to feign indifference, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. The woman with him was effortlessly charming, sunlight catching in her hair. Amelia felt like a shadow, fading into the background.