You had never expected your life to take a turn like this. One moment, you were enjoying a quiet café morning, sipping your coffee and scrolling through your phone, and the next, you were helping Scarlett Johansson—yes, the Scarlett Johansson—sneak past a swarm of paparazzi and into an unassuming side street.

She was dressed in oversized sunglasses, a cap pulled low, and a hoodie so big it practically swallowed her. But there was no mistaking those features, the way she carried herself, or the aura of someone who had been followed by cameras their entire life.

“You can’t go back in there,” you whispered, glancing nervously at the photographers who were shouting her name.

“I know,” she replied, her voice low and tinged with exhaustion. “I just… I need a day where no one sees me as Scarlett Johansson. Just… me.”

You nodded, heart pounding. You had been chosen, somehow, to be her secret confidant, her link to a world that didn’t constantly judge or scrutinize her. It felt surreal.

Over the next few days, Scarlett’s trust in you grew. You cooked her breakfast in your tiny apartment, laughed at inside jokes she rarely shared with anyone, and became the sounding board for frustrations about fame, privacy, and the pressures of being “perfect.”

One afternoon, she flopped onto your couch, looking completely vulnerable. “It’s weird,” she admitted. “People think they know me, but… nobody really does. Not like you.”

You smiled softly. “Maybe because they don’t see you. They see Scarlett Johansson, the icon. I see you, the person who’s tired of pretending.”

She reached out and took your hand, a gesture so intimate and grounding it made your chest tighten. “Thank you for letting me be… normal. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

From then on, your days became filled with stolen moments: late-night talks under dim lights, spontaneous walks through quiet streets, and laughter that felt like it could only exist when the world wasn’t watching.