Chapter Three
"Sofia, you're here. It's been a while since you stopped by," Mr. Marcos says, the moment I got to the classic bar where I usually perform when I feel exhausted and want to escape for a short while.
I don't know how I managed to get here, but I knew I trekked quite a distance before getting here. A lot was going through my mind when I sobered up and started walking down here, that I didn't notice the distance.
Mr. Marcos is the owner of the bar I come to perform sometimes when I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. He has been such a good mature friend who is always ready to help. I remember him telling me to become a fulltime performer in his bar and he was ready to pay me. But I rejected the offer back then. Mr. Marcos is not someone I'll take money from just to entertain his patrons.
Besides, I'm not an artist, I only sing for fun. But tonight, it is not for fun, it is to let out my pain and find some healing. Just maybe, I'll feel better after performing.
I force a sad smile. "Work has been tough that's why. Would it be okay if I perform tonight?"
"Of course! You know you're always welcome here. We missed you. Many of the patrons have been asking after you," Marcos replies, smiling widely.
I gave a small nod. "Thanks. I guess I'm here now to make up for lost times."
"You'll perform right after her. She's our new artist that almost replaced you, but you're irreplaceable because of your incredible voice," Marcos gave my shoulder a light squeeze.
I forced a soft laugh. "I appreciate your kind words. I'll just sit over there and wait for my turn."
"Okay. Drinks after your performance?" he offers, and for a second, I wanted to decline, but I nod in response. "Great!" He return to new patrons, while I glance around.
I find a quiet corner to sit, trying to steady my breathing and focus on anything but the pain twisting inside me. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the bar, but it all feels distant, like I'm hearing through a fog.
My gaze narrow towards the small stage where the current performer is finishing up her set, her voice soft and sweet, but I barely register it. My mind is elsewhere, replaying the events of the night like a cruel movie reel that I can't shut off.
The last not fades away, and a polite round of applause fills the room pulling me out of my unconscious state. I force myself to clap along, my hands moving mechanically as I watch the singer step down, her face glowing with satisfaction.
Mr. Marcos catches my eye and gives me a nod, signaling that it's my turn. I push myself up from the chair, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. As I walk towards the stage, I catch sight of someone new in the bar, someone who stands out even in this dimly lit room.
He's sitting at a table near the back, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze focused on nothing in particular. He looks like he carries his own burden, the kind that's heavy enough to make even the strongest man crumble. His eyes are dark, brooding, and there's a certain air of mystery about him that pulls at something deep inside me.
For a moment, I wonder who he is and what brought him here tonight. But as I reach the stage and take hold of the microphone, I push the thought aside. This moment is about me, not anyone else. I need to release the pain I feel inside.
The room quiets down as I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I let the silence stretch out, as I try to think of a song that can soothe the pain I feel.
"Tell me was I somebody special? Or someone to talk to? I thought I knew you. Tell me how you… you could be so cold, and make it look easy?" I finally begin to sing Gavin James song Jealous. The words flow out of me like a confession, raw and filled with the heartache that's threatening to swallow me whole.
"The less I try, the more I think about you. Could you show me how it feels to let me go? Cause it doesn't seem to wear you down at all. Oh, and I'm jealous," I pour everything into the song–the pain, the betrayal, the anger, the love that once was but is now nothing more than ashes in my heart.
"Thought I'd tell you that living without you feels like running on empty. Gonna crash soon, guess I'm jealous of how you look happy. Well, my heart is heavy, lost in the memories," I continue singing slowly, each note haunting and lingering in the air like a ghost.
I can feel the room holding its breath, every eye on me, every ear hanging on to the words that slip from my lips. I sing as if this is the last song I'll ever sing. And for a moment, the world outside fades away, and there is nothing but the music and the emotions that swell within me.
"It feels like…and it feels like all the walls are caving in. Yeah, you're alright. Oh, you're alright. Is it even sinking in? Yeah, I'm jealous, so jealous, are you even listening?" silence follows as I try to catch my breath.
I realize I'm not just singing for the crowd, I'm singing for myself, for the girl who just had her heart shattered into a million pieces. I controlled my emotions and took one last note, letting the song die.
The room fell into a deafening silence. I open my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I see the room clearly. Faces are turned towards me, some with tears glistening in their eyes, others with expressions of quiet contemplation.
But it's the man at the back, with the dark brooding eyes, who holds my gaze. There's something in his expression that I can't quite place, it's a mix of admiration, understanding, maybe even a reflection of the pain I feel. It's as if he knows, as if he's been where I am now, and for a brief moment, our souls connect in the shared space of our brokenness.
The applause comes slowly at first, intruding my thoughts. And then it builds into a powerful one. I offer a small, nervous smile and nod in acknowledgment before stepping off the stage.
As I make my way back to the bar, my heart is still pounding from the intensity of the performance, my emotions still raw and exposed. I catch Mr. Marcos's eyes, and he looks at me with a mix of pride and concern, but I can't bring myself to speak because I'll end up crying. I approach the bar section and slip into the comfortable stool with my thoughts and the lingering ache in my chest.
"Wow, I've never seen you perform with so much emotion. That was fantastic!" Mr. Marcos commended with a huge smile.
"Thank you," I responded, faking a smile.
He leans in slightly on the counter. "Are you okay though? You sang like someone who is heartbroken."
"That's because she is," a voice startles me slightly from behind.
I turned to find the same man whose gaze has been fixed on me right from when I climb the stage, standing right behind me. Up close, he's even more striking, with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His dark brown hair is slightly disheveled, and his eyes–now that I can see them clearly are a piercing shade of golden brown. He looks familiar, like I've seen him somewhere.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he adds, his voice deep and smooth. "But your song…it was the best cover I've ever had of Gavin James songs. You sang straight from your soul. You owned it."
I'm not sure how to respond, so I just nod, my throat suddenly tight. He seems to sense my discomfort and softens his approach.
"I'm sorry," he says, his tone gentler now. "I didn't introduce myself. I'm Gavin Stevenson," he extends a hand, smiling.
I stare down at it. After a moment of hesitation, I take it. "What a coincidence, you share the same name with the artist I did a cover of his song. I'm Sofia by the way," I reply, quietly, my voice barely audible over the murmur of the bar.
"You're Gavin Stevenson? Oh my goodness!" Marcos exclaims, extending his hand for a shake.
Gavin smiles charmingly, sending flutters to my stomach. How can a man be beautiful than a lady? Wait, does Marcos know him?
"Do you know him?" I asks, wanting to kill my curiosity.
"Yes! You don't know him?" Mr. Marcos raises a brow at me.
"Well..."
"It doesn't matter. I'm not that famous. I don't like the fame either, but business put me in the spot light," Gavin replies, cutting me off.
"You're the CEO of Dream Bay hotels," Mr. Marcos blurts, grinning cheekily. "I'm honored to have you in my bar tonight."
Gavin smiles one more time and waves Mr. Marcos off. "It's nothing. I can be anywhere I want. I heard here is the best place to relax and unwind from chaos. And tonight, Sofia, proves it to be true," he adds, gazing at me.
There's something about the way he says my name that makes me feel both exposed and seen, like he's looking past the façade I've been trying to maintain all night.
Mr. Marcos, sensing the tension, clears his throat. "I guess I'll have to leave the both of you now. But before then, I owe you a drink, Sofia. What would you like?"
"Straight whiskey," I reply, and I noticed Mr. Marcos's forehead furrows before he steps away, giving us some privacy. I want to get myself drown in my pain, he shouldn't look at me like that.
Gavin takes the seat next to mine, and for a few moments, neither of us speaks. The silence between us isn't uncomfortable, though. It's as if we're both waiting for the other to say something, to bridge the gap between two strangers who might have more in common than either of us expected.
Gavin Stevenson? CEO of Dream Bay? I've seen him on TV and the internet, no wonder he looks familiar. Quite impressive of the name he made for himself. He must have come from a wealthy family and he had it all smooth from the very beginning. Unlike my pathetic self who is always looking out for others and forgetting myself.
"You're very talented," Gavin finally says, breaking the silence and even my envious thoughts of him. "But there's more to your voice than just talent that I noticed tonight. There's pain…real pain, Sofia."
His words cut through me, raw and honest. I glance at him and my gaze lingers on his face. I feel my defenses starting to crumble, the walls I've built up around my heart slowly giving way.
"I…I just needed to let it out," I admit, my voice trembling slightly. "Singing is the only way I know how to deal with my pain."
Gavin nods, his gaze never leaving mine. "I get that. Music has a way of healing someone, even if just for a moment. Do you feel better now?" he asks.
I broke our gaze and look away. Right on cue, Mr. Marcos returns with two glasses of whiskey. "Nice! How did you know I needed more of it?"
Mr. Marcos shakes his head and sets down one in front of me. "This isn't for you," he says and places it in front of Gavin. "A welcome drink for you, Mr. Gavin. It's on me."
Gavin looks up and smiles at Marcos. "That's so kind of you. I'll be returning again. I didn't get your name earlier."
"Marcos," Marcos replies, smiling widely like his cheeks will split apart. What's with him and his excitement? Is he that thrilled to meet him? "Enjoy your drinks," he bows slightly and returns to his duty.
"Once again, we're alone," Gavin says, his attention back to me.
I pick up my drink and sip it slowly, trying to calm the storm inside me. Maybe is best to shift the attention to him rather than myself. I lower my glass from my lips, swirling it. "So, what about you? What brings you here tonight?" I ask, curious.
A shadow passes over his face, and for a moment, I think he won't answer. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Life," he says simply, and my face twitched. "I guess you could say I'm trying to escape it, too. Just like you," he continues.
There's a heaviness to his words, a weight that I recognize all too well. We're both carrying something, but I don't know his is.
He sets down his glass, and his eyes held mine. "Maybe we crossed path for a reason. How about I help you escape whatever it is that is chasing you or has broken you? Would you let me?"
His words hang in the air between us. He looks at me with a kind quiet intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. What is this sweet temptation staring at me right now?