He stopped loving her today.

- George Jones.

There was rain. And its delicate drops beaded on the windows. They came from so far away and came to die on her window, miserably crushed against a piece of glass. The pearls of rain. They seemed to be screaming when they crashed on the window, stretching into a long lament, a long bitter complaint. Sitting at the window, she felt oppressed, assaulted by the pearls of rain and their sky was so beautiful, so smooth and so melancholic. The sky, a deep gray, heavy, sky, was hiding a thousand and one secret. She sighed. She had gone elsewhere, a little too far in her thoughts. In the middle of the room completely disordered, the window was the only way, the only opening that allowed her to escape... but it was definitely not a good time to think about a way to escape reality. She had the duty to go that ceremony, and as hard as it was, she had to do it. There was no other solution, no turning back. She had to do it for her family, and the man she had loved. She could not go back and could not get out of doing it. It was simply impossible.

Lost in her dark confusing thoughts, she did not notice the beautiful rainbow with its pretty pastel colors that had been drawn in the sky. With a gesture of uncertainty, she ran a hand over her pale face, rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. "You can do this" she repeated to herself. "You can do this"... She curved her back, stretched for a moment, adjusted her clothes and sat up, as if she was trying to show her strength. A wave of determination overran her body, she was ready. She would be strong for her family and for herself, too ... they needed someone to be strong in this family, right? And that someone should be her. As hard as it could be. She would have wanted to feel his strong and muscular arms, holding her in his embrance and would have loved to feel his warm breath in her ear, telling her that everything was going to be okay. But he was gone now and although she probably never would have admitted it when he was still here, she needed him. But once again, he was gone. She quickly shook her head, trying to get rid of these thoughts that consumed her from within and repeated to herself, again, "You are a survivor, you can do it... you can do it and you will do it!" gaining some insurance, she rose from where she had been sitting for a few minutes and acquiesced a small smile at the sight of the rainbow, exposing its colors through the monotone sky. "The only sign that there is still life out there" she murmured to herself.

The pretty middle-aged red-head, walked with a firm step to her king sized bed. This bed, where a few years ago, they used to spend time in and fall asleep in each other's arms. She sighed. Again. This time was long gone. She looked at the mess of clothes laid upon her bed, what was she going to wear? What would he have liked her to wear? She shrugged, desperate, and grabbed with a delicate and skillful gesture a black skirt, which was 6-7 inches above the knee and skirted her figure perfectly, showing the soft curves of her body. With her other hand, she grabbed a matching jacket, black as well, and hanged them on a hanger before hanging them to the bathroom's door handle. She only had to find high heels, a veiled hat and a top to complete the outfit. She let out a frustrated sigh and looked at the wall in front of her with eager eyes. They were showing no expressions. Nothing. Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind; she remembered that one precious moment she had spent with Brock...

"Reba, will you marry me?" A young man with golden hair, blue eyes and a tanned skin, asked with a smile. We could see the nervousness in his eyes. He had knelt on one knee, in front of her, waiting for the response of his beloved. He knew that her response will change his life forever. But he did not know until then how much.

"Oh my god, Brock! Yes! Yes, of course, what a question! I will marry you, you mo'ron!" a younger redheaded woman said with enthusiasm in her voice. She could not be more satisfied. She threw herself into his arms and pulled him closer to her, pressing her lips hard against his, tears of joy running down her cheeks. She loved him more than anything. Becoming his wife was probably the best thing that could ever happen to her, she thought.

He said: "I'll love you 'til I die"
She told him: "you'll forget in time"

As the years went slowly by
She still preyed upon his mind

Now lying on the pile of clothing on top of her bed, Reba's mind wandered, searching into the depths of her memory for delicious treasured recollections of moments she had spent with Brock. She had spent so many good times by his side, there were so many good memories. It was certain for her that Brock would remain the love of her life, forever, no matter what happened. If she hadn't so much pride and if both of them weren't so stubborn, they would have grew old together and shared their life together, just like they promised each other, years ago. She was sure of that. He was the only man whom she had spent half her life with, the father of her children, her first love, the person with whom she had shared a bed for over 20 years. But now he was gone. Forever gone... it could seem cliché for some people, but Reba sometimes wondered "why is life so unfair?" But alas, so far, no one had given her an answer that would satisfy her.

"I love you, Reba Hart" a single sentence uttered by her loving husband. A simple sentence that had brought her to the tears that day, it was only a few words, but it meant the world to her.

"I love you too, Brock Hart."

Eventually, it was that, the thing we call "happiness". Maybe it was living, moving on, without looking at our past mistakes. Living just for the moment. This precious moment, one that sometimes has a taste of eternity. It is enjoying every second. Maybe that's what happiness is. The sun burning on our skins. The carefree laughter of children discovering nature at a time we dream of freedom, this freedom so important to us that brings us to broaden our horizons and travel, discover new landscapes, here and there. That may be what happiness is. Just a few small moments of nothing. And ''those little moments of nothing", God only knows how many she had shared with Brock. He made her happy ... well, he did, he truly did, until he cheated on her with that idiotic twenty-two years old blonde. But deep down, she could not be angry at him... she could not hate him. Although that wasn't what she seemed to tell everyone.

"I can't wait to know if it's a little boy or a little girl!" The tall blue eyed man, replied, smiling. "But I'm sure it's a boy!" he added with excitement in his voice

"Why would you say that?"

"I don't know, I just feel it, that's all". He answered with as much enthusiasm. He was sure of it. It will be a boy. If he was right, he would teach his son to play golf; they would eat ice cream on Sunday afternoon and watch TV while eating sandwiches. They would go to the park and they would try not to pay attention to the girls.

It turned out to be a girl, they named her Cheyenne. Cheyenne Hart. It was their first child. She remembered the joy that these two had experienced when they had held her for the first time. This communicative joy filled the room. This joy, as we call it, was repeated two more times. At the birth of their second child, Kyra, a girl too, who looked just like her mother, and at birth of Jake, their youngest, with brown hair and hazel eyes. How she loved her children. She would not be the woman she was today if they were not there. She would not be here, lying in her bed, remembering moments of her life with Brock, or even wondering how her children would behave during the day they will, just like her, say a final goodbye to their father. No, she would not be who she was now if they weren't there. For the first time in years, she admitted to herself that she was frightened, scared. She was afraid. She had this fear of losing control of her destiny, afraid of what the future was holding ... a fear she could not conceal.

He kept her picture on his wall
Went half-crazy now and then

He still loved her through it all
Hoping she'd come back again

The first day Brock had met the woman who would a few years later become his wife; Brock knew that the fiery redhead with piercing blue eyes had changed his life forever. Again, although these feelings for her were still intact, he knew, alas, that something had changed forever. And he could not blame anyone else but himself. He was the reason Reba was no longer trusting him. He was the reason for her suffering, her tears, her unhappiness, her rigidity. He had hurt her, even when he promised that he would never do such a thing. And he did made her suffer furthermore, all these years, when he had brought his wife, his mistress, the reason Reba had to get up every morning, wondering why she was still alive, around her house, forcing her to spend time with the blonde bimbo. Why had he left her for this woman? What did Barbra Jean had that she hadn't? She was younger? Oh yes. Getting hit by a bus, sometimes seemed less painful than the pain that these two had felt the day their divorce had been official. They loved each other still, but yet, could not admit it. It seemed like an impossible love. He regretted his actions, he regretted fighting with her over that stupid toaster and leaving home, furious, and going for a drink in that rough pub. He regretted that. But what he regretted most of all these, was their divorce, hurting the woman he loved more than anything. Hurting his children, his family, himself... If Barbra Jean, the woman for whom he had left Reba, the woman for whom he had cheated on Reba, didn't get pregnant, none of these would have happened. But unfortunately, it was destiny. No one could change that. No one had enough power to go back in time and change past mistakes. The only thing to do was to create a new beginning, starting over, making a fresh start, getting ready for a new chapter in their lives. Brock knew that he and Reba could have overcame all these, they would have been strong enough to fix the broken pieces of their marriage ... but then again, Barbra Jean was there, and pregnant. No, he did not regret Henry, he loved this little guy, he just hoped that things had taken a different turn, that's all. But Brock had kept a picture of Reba on his wall, Barbra Jean didn't mind, she didn't say anything because she was just too naive to buy his excuse. She loved Reba too, actually, she considered her as her best friend. She was so honored to have the photo of her best friend, hooked on the wall near their desk. Oh, if she only knew the real reason why Brock had kept this photo. He hoped that one day, Reba would rush into his arms, would kiss him with her soft, sensual lips and tell him she wanted him to go home, that she didn't want to be "just friends" anymore, that she wanted him to become her husband again. He would have liked her to tell him that he belonged with her and not with Barbra Jean. He would have loved her to come back to him, and forgive him for what he had done. He had been forgiven, yes, but the other things he had hoped to come true, never did. And now they never will...

Kept some letters by his bed
Dated 1976
He had underlined in red
Every single I love you

Reba Hart, was now ready for the dreaded day, she was wearing a tailored black skirt, black stiletto high heels and also a veiled hat. She adjusted the sunglasses on her nose. It was not sunny, it was raining but she did not want other people to see her blood-shot eyes caused by tears. She did not want people asking her questions, asking her how she was feeling. She did not want them to know that she hadn't been able to sleep since the day she heard the terrible news. She was pale, she had lost weight, and her best features were drawn. She looked drawn. She knew that Brock would never have wanted this to happen, she knew she had to get her act together ... she will, someday, but for now she needed to kiss him goodbye and move on with her life. It was what mattered most. She just needed someone to be there for her. Was it too much to ask? She had always been there for those she loved, but were they really there for her? No. They were sure she was okay, because that's what she told them. None of them was smart enough to notice that she was not. Or maybe they had noticed, but were too anxious to talk to her about it.

She had written their history. On a piece of paper, she had traced with the tip of her pen, the few lines that summed up their experiences. Such as an heart beat, those words were precious. Despite her reluctance, a tear came out of her eye, went down her cheek and came to settle on the paper, forming a thick black spot. Under this ink stain, the word 'soul' could still be seen. Was it a sign of destiny? Was it a sign that their souls would remain entangled for life? Confused minded, she got up, took the piece of paper that was no longer neutral, and tore it. It was carried away by the wind before tearing itself into pieces. A split second later, a fragment came back to her, carried by the breeze. Over it, was written the word 'soul'

I went to see him just today
Oh, but I didn't see no tears

All dressed up to go away
First time I'd seen him smile in years

Macabre song being sang under this incessant rain. Death brushing his face with its icy fingers. Her body stiffened in the hold of his closed eyes, exposed before her own eyes. The soul disfigured gradually mingling with his. "Breathe." She ordered herself. "Try to breathe, Reba, just once!" she murmured. The dark day seemed to stretch over the light beat of her heart that was waiting to die now, by his side. Standing straight, rigid as a statue, she finally found him. She had waited for this moment. There he was, frozen in front of her. His thick blonde hair fell over his forehead still wrinkled. His skin was pale, almost transparent. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be smiling, holding close to him a red rose. He had kept this beautiful round face that made him look like an eternal child. Although, it didn't look like him. Not at all. He didn't look like the happy blubbly man she once knew. No, it did not look like him. But yet, she knew, it was him. Unfortunately.

Breathless, she closed her eyes, trying not to let the tears fall. She leaned against her son-in-law, Van, feeling her throat closing up, her heart melting and her hands trembling. She had to lean against something. She needed a rock. She felt oppressed, as if she could not breathe, as if the misfortune was falling upon her, as if she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was not feeling well, she was NOT well. Oh, how grateful she was to have the shoulder of her son-in-law that she considered as her own son, to keep her up. She felt a gentle hand touching her arm, she gasped, Van, squeezed her hand gently and looked at her. He didn't know how his mother-in-law was truly feeling, she hadn't said a word for several days, weeks. He wanted to be there for her, but he did not know how. "Don't cry, Mrs. H..." He whispered. "Everything is going to be OK. Mr. H, wherever he is, is going watch over us. He will be very happy up there." She tried to smile, to no avail. She could not. She shrugged her shoulders and closed her eyes tightly, leaning into Van a little bit more, until another flashback flashed through her mind.

"I'll love you 'til I die" He said.

"You will forget in time" she replied. "You'll forget about me, and love someone else"

"I doubt so..." he flashed her a reassuring smile.

"I love you, Reba."

"I love you too, Brock." she said with her adorable Southern accent, making a sweet face.

He stopped loving her today
They placed a wreath upon his door
And soon they'll carry him away
He stopped loving her today

He would have confined pieces of dreams into silver paper and exterminated all her nightmares. He would have offered her the world, written the most beautiful poem, just to see her smile. The sound of her voice made every inch of his body shake. From the top of his skull to the tip of his foot, procuring inside of him a soft sensation of warmth. She was his drug, more dangerous than cocaine, his kind of delight in the depths of his abyss. The solution to his problems, his white dove, the sunshine that could light the dark inside of him. He had loved everything about her, her deep crystal blue eyes, her childish laughter, the scent of her hair, her pale skin, her southern accent, the way she always cared, her protectiveness, but most importantly, the depth of her gaze in his. He would have loved wiping her tears away when she wasn't feeling well. Even if deep inside, he knew he was the main reason of her sadness. He would have gladly went to hell for her. But this stupid thing took him away... and no, it wasn't that tall bimbo with two first name that she was talking about, but life. Yes, life took him away from her, darkening her thoughts, untangling their souls nevertheless intertwined forever... With a shaking hand, the red-headed woman approached the wooded coffin, and softly laid a small piece of paper on top of it, next to the colored flowers that were placed on the casket. Her thin, tender fingers made their way to her cold, delicate lips and she blew him a soft kiss, before starting to walk away with determination in each steps she took. She didn't want to be there when they will come to do the inevitable; close the coffin. She was a strong woman, but not THAT strong. A new chapter of her life was starting for her and her family, but never will she forget the man she thought was the love of her life.

On the fragment of paper, we could still read in an italic handwriting, the word 'soul'

You know she came to see him one last time
Oh and we all wondered if she would
And it kept running through my mind
This time he's over her for good.

The end.

{Author's Note}: Hey, everyone! So, I hope you liked this song-fic. This is my first fan-fiction ever, therefore i'll ask you to be nice, please. I am not a native English speaker as you probably noticed. I just love writing a lot, and I adore Reba more than anything and I just wanted to share my story with y'all, so I hope you understood everything. Let me know what you think. Read & Review. Your comments will really help me to get a better writing, a better English etc... I am thinking about writing an other song-fic & a normal fan-fiction and I don't want to get my hopes too high by thinkin' I am doing just great when I am not. Don't lie to me and tell me what you really thought about the story, please. But of course, i'd appreciate if you said it in a nice way!