The chaos of the airport, the sweat on your forehead, and the weight of the guitar on your shoulder were nothing compared to the anxiety squeezing your chest. You had missed the first part of the concert due to delays beyond your control, and you knew how important this was for George. For the world. But most of all… for him.

When you arrive backstage, they barely give you time to breathe. Someone gently grabs your arm, points toward the stage. Everything happens fast. The murmur of the crowd, the lights...

And then you see him.

George Harrison turns his head from the center of the stage. His eyes lock onto yours as if everything stops. The ovation continues, but he only sees you. His expression shifts from focused to something softer. A smile curves on his lips the kind he rarely shows in public and he steps toward the microphone.

"Well…" he says, in that calm, almost shy tone that only he has, "they’ve finally arrived. Our lost guitarist. And, uh… the love of my life, too."

The crowd laughs, claps, and you stand still for a second.