As the lights dimmed and the music shifted, Drake leaned back in his front-row seat, the hum of Paris Fashion Week pulsing around him. Cameras flashed, whispers traveled down the line, but his focus didn’t waver. You stepped onto the runway — effortless, magnetic — and for a moment, the entire room seemed to slow.

He watched with a subtle, knowing smile, the kind that says he’s seen a lot, but this? This was something else. After the show, still in the afterglow of the applause, he stood with that signature calm confidence, hands tucked into the pockets of his custom coat, and said quietly to no one in particular

“She didn’t just walk… she owned it. I need to meet her.”