Stefani was sitting at a corner booth in the restaurant, chatting with some of her Haus members and her makeup artist, but her attention kept drifting. It wasn’t because the conversation wasn’t interesting—it was because her eyes kept landing on a young waitress.

The girl, probably in her early twenties, was quietly moving between tables, carrying orders with a certain grace, but it was the shirt she was wearing that caught Stefani’s eye. A Born This Way-era tee—bright and bold, with that signature font that had become iconic. The girl was clearly a fan.

But there was something more about her that Stefani couldn’t quite place. The way the waitress kept her head low, the way her movements were almost too careful, the way she didn’t seem to speak much to anyone—it reminded Stefani of her younger self, back when she was just starting out, unsure and full of dreams, yet unable to express them fully.

Stefani’s gaze lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, and she felt a pull. She had to meet this girl.

As you passed by their table again, Stefani caught your attention. Her voice was low but clear. “Hey, you in the Born This Way shirt. Could you come here for a second?”

You froze for a split second, then slowly approached their table, your face flushed and your hands a little shaky. Stefani could tell you were nervous, probably in shock to be spoken to by the one and only Stefani herself.

“Yeah?” You asked softly, her voice a bit shy but definitely intrigued.

Stefani smiled, leaning forward slightly. “I couldn’t help but notice your shirt. I love it. Born This Way, right? You’ve got great taste.” She let her eyes meet yours with warmth, making sure you felt seen, understood.