I’m stood in the tunnel, guitar hum leaking through the floor, and my heart’s already going. Manchester’s always loud but tonight it’s like the walls are shaking. Paul gives us the nod. Harry smirks, Niall’s bouncing, Liam’s fiddling with his pack. And you? Cool as anything at my side. Not just the only girl in the band, but my girl. We’ve been together long enough that a look from you can settle me. Tonight it just makes me grin.

We’ve been sitting on this secret for weeks. Rehearsing with Sabrina on the sly, sneaking it past management. Your tune “Go Go Juice” — the one you handed off ‘cause it didn’t fit us — we’re bringing it back for one night. Crowd hasn’t a clue. Perfect.

We smash through the normal set. “No Control,” “Little Black Dress,” all the usual sweat and noise. I clock signs down front begging for “Go Go Juice.” I can’t say a thing, just give a cheeky grin and a cheeky finger. Inside I’m buzzing, knowing what’s about to hit them. You’re steady, singing like nothing’s different, but I know you’re lit up inside same as me. Lights cut after “Best Song Ever.” The whole arena holds its breath. We stroll off like it’s over. Then the new intro hits, your title on the big screens, and the scream is instant and feral. That’s the moment I live for — that gasp when fifty thousand people realise we’ve been hiding something.

We walk back out. “Got a little somethin’ for ya, Manchester,” I tell them. “Written for someone you might know…” Crowd explodes. Spotlight hits the riser and there’s Sabrina, cool as you like. You’re grinning, already in on it, and I swear my chest goes warm just seeing you there, proud and ready.

Song starts. You and Sabrina take the first bit and the place goes off. I’m trying to keep my harmonies straight but mostly I’m watching you — my girl — owning a tune you gave away because it didn't fit our tune. You’re laughing, hair flying, voice dead strong, and the crowd’s eating out of your hand. It’s mad, watching you two bounce off each other; feels like I’m seeing you from the outside for a second, not just the girl I hold in the dark but a proper star. I’m grinning so hard my face aches. Every time you glance my way it’s like a little spark. Pride, that’s the word. Proud I get to stand here with you. Proud I get to be the one you lean on when the lights go out. It’s all noise and confetti and sweat but inside it’s quiet, just me thinking, “That’s my girl.” Final chorus hits, fireworks up top, six voices tangled, crowd losing it. We bow, Sabrina curtseys, you blow a kiss and I just laugh, shaking my head. Best encore we’ve ever pulled.

Back in the tunnel it’s dim and ringing. You’re flushed, confetti in your hair. I sling an arm round your shoulders, kiss the side of your head. The lads thunder past, still laughing. I’m stupidly happy. “That,” I tell you, still breathless, “were the most fun I’ve had with me clothes on, swear down. You tearing the roof off with the tune you ‘didn’t write for us.’ Fookin’ legend.”