30 - you don't love me anymore

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Heather's pov

The mirror's reflection shows someone I don't recognize anymore

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The mirror's reflection shows someone I don't recognize anymore. She looks tired, dead almost and with an empty soul.

The purple bags under my eyes are so prominent that no makeup can hide them anymore.

I haven't caught much sleep these last months. And driving around the country doing shows almost every day for the past three months didn't help either.

Nobody said it would be easy.

Yeah right.

Reaching for the bottle of bourbon that's beside all the makeup and brushes, I serve myself a glass. A very well deserved glass.

After taking a sip, I let out a sigh and lean back on the chair and close my eyes.

I saw him. When I was about to start singing Hazel Eyes, I saw him in the crowd. And he knows I was looking at him, because during the whole song I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Hazel Eyes was the hardest song to record and get it done. The song it's about him. He knows it's about him. I wrote it when he was on tour and my heart cried for him.

When I recorded, we were no longer together. And while I sang it countless of times in the studio to get it right, I was reminding myself why I loved him so much.

A song about true love. About a girl in love with a guy's eyes that hid more than they showed. The same eyes that showed her love and a home.

Tonight was my last show. A concert at the Troubadour. But this time, I wasn't an opening act for Scarlett Moon. This was my concert. It wasn't a stadium like the ones I spent three months playing in.

This time, even with way less people, it was thousand times better. These people came here to see me.

The glass is empty now and I fill it up again as I'm alone in the silent dressing room backstage.

Those eyes doesn't seem to leave my eyes. Those damn beautiful eyes I grew to adore. I've missed him so much that I couldn't believe he was there.

I hear the door behind me open, and when I look up, my eyes land on his reflection on the mirror. Quickly, tears reach my eyes, threatening to come out and my heart shrinks.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is low and weak as I look at him through the mirror, without the strength to turn around and look at him in the face.

If I turn around, it will make him even more real and it will hurt even more.

“I came to see you.” He replies, his tone so sweet and voice so warm. Just like how I remember. Never thought I would hear that beautiful melody ever again. “I'm sorry, I tried. But I couldn't leave without coming here.”

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