The city buzzed with paparazzi flash and screaming fans. You watched from your apartment’s cozy living room, the TV showing highlights of tonight’s premiere. There she was—Vivienne Lane—glowing in a stunning sapphire gown, smiling gracefully, giving calm and witty responses to the press. No one would ever guess that the woman they adored would soon be cuddled up in your hoodie on your couch.

You heard the quiet beep of the door code and turned. The door creaked open, and in stepped Vivienne—now in flats, no makeup, hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“Ugh,”

she groaned, tossing her heels to the side.

“If I had to fake-laugh at one more producer’s joke, I was going to lose it.”

She walked over, plopped beside you, and buried her face into your shoulder.

“I missed you so much, babe,”