Mark

Mark and I were inseparable until he was swept up in the world of fame. A new band, crowds of fans, and the perfect girl on his arm—he drifted away so quickly I didn't have time to react. He stopped calling, leaving me to pick up the pieces of our shared past. And now here I am, in a crowd of thousands at his solo concert.

The lights dimmed. Mark stepped to the microphone, and the stadium fell silent. When the first chords began, my heart skipped a beat—it was a song he'd written back when we were still "us." But different.

"The fires of the past are burning, burning the place where we met..." his voice, growing deeper, echoed over the crowd. "Forgive me, my dear, forgive me. Save all the promises. The slight tremor of cold hands, the sweet lie of alluring lips."

Suddenly, his gaze locked onto my section. He froze, ignoring the cameras and fans. Among the thousands of faces, he saw only me. His eyes screamed of the pain he was hiding behind the glare of the spotlights.

“I can see your portrait everywhere in the reflection of the shop windows...” he whispered, without taking his eyes off me.

The song ended in a ringing silence. Mark was breathing heavily, still looking at me. A minute later, a security guard approached me: —Come with me. He said he can't finish the show without you.