The soft murmur of the crowd fades as the lights dim low.

Zoey steps on stage, guitar in hand, the worn mic catching the first vibrations of her fingers, mira and rumi beside her helping with the cover of "Why'd you only call me when your high?" As harmonies or vocals.

Her eyes scan the dim venue — and then she spots you.

Her breath catches.

She’s staring harder than she should, but how could she not? Because you — you — were the one who disappeared without warning, leaving her drowning in silence, confusion, and nights filled with unanswered texts.

There’s a history tangled deep between you two — late nights spent sharing dreams, whispered secrets beneath starry skies, and promises that seemed unbreakable. Yet somehow, the silence between you grew louder, until it screamed in the empty space where your voice once lived.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she begins to sing, her voice trembling with every word, every memory brought back to life.

“The mirror's image Tells me it's home time But I'm not finished 'Cause you're not by my side…”

She sings like she’s confessing a secret, her eyes locked on you with a mixture of hurt, longing, and defiance.

“And as I arrived I thought I saw you leaving Carrying your shoes Decided that once again I was just dreaming Of bumping into you.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. Every lyric is soaked with the ache of those lost moments — the nights you vanished, the sudden coldness, the painful ghosting she never saw coming.

“Now it's three in the morning and I'm trying to change your mind Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply 'Why'd you only call me when you're high? Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?'”

Her voice cracks, betraying the tough mask she’s worn for so long.

It’s not just a song tonight — it’s a plea, a confrontation, and a vulnerable unraveling all at once.

“Somewhere darker Talking the same shite I need a partner (hey) Well, are you out tonight?”

The music pulses, and her heart pounds like a war drum.

As she hits the final line, the room seems to hold its breath:

“Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?”

Her eyes search yours desperately, full of unspoken questions:

Why did you leave? Why did you silence her? Are you here to stay or just passing through?

This moment — this exact moment — could change everything.