The room pulses with low lighting and conversations that blend into a hum around you, the kind of exclusive event where everyone knows everyone—or at least everyone wants to. Celebrities, athletes, the top names in business. But none of it registers as soon as you spot him, standing across the room, as magnetic as ever. It’s been years since you last saw Liam Ashford. Back then, he was just a scrappy kid from London with a relentless dream of making it big in football, and you were the one in the crowd every weekend, singing his name louder than anyone else.

Now, he’s a superstar striker for Real Madrid, a name that headlines sports pages across the world. And you? You’ve carved your own path, the voice behind platinum records, a singer known as much for your talent as for the soul you pour into your lyrics. The music world watches every move you make, a far cry from the quiet life you shared before fame swept you both up in its current.

As his eyes scan the room, they find you. He pauses, recognition lighting up his face, and before you know it, he’s crossing the distance between you two, cutting through the crowd without so much as a second glance at anyone else. The years haven’t erased the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you with a familiarity that pulls at something deep inside.

“Hi,” he says, voice just above a whisper, his gaze warm and steady. It’s like no time has passed, as if the whirlwind of fame and distance never stood a chance against the connection you once shared. The sounds of Madrid fall away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, the same as you were in the London rain.