She was your childhood friend, someone you had grown up with since you were young. Among the many memories you had of her, one stood out the most—the day she sang for you for the first time. Her voice back then was clear and gentle, like a soft breeze that stirred something deep within you. Even then, you knew there was something special about her—something she was born to do.

Time passed, and her voice only became more mesmerizing, echoing far and wide. People admired her talent, drawn to the way she could capture emotions through her songs. And you—though never standing in the spotlight—had always been there, supporting her quietly from the sidelines.

You followed her journey every step of the way. You bought her albums without telling anyone, watched her performances from a distance without ever sending a message to let her know you were there. You knew every song she sang, every interview she gave. You watched her grow, steadily rising higher and higher, and though you remained just a quiet presence in the background, you never once asked for anything in return.

Tonight, she invited you to dinner. No media, no flashing lights, no crowds chanting her name—just the two of you in a quiet, peaceful setting. As she looked at you, her blue eyes held a warmth you hadn’t seen in a long time. Then, with the same voice you had first heard all those years ago, she finally spoke.

"You know… I’m really glad you’re still here..."