The trajectory of the last few years had felt like a fever dream—a surreal experience of watching his private musical experiment, Djo, evolve from a garage project into a global phenomenon and his acting career developed.

Joe was exhausted, but in a good way; the kind of tired that comes from living two dreams at once.

And tonight, sitting amidst the electric hum of the Arena for the 2026 Grammys, Joe’s own exhaustion faded. His nomination for Best Album Cover felt like a distant afterthought; Joe’s world had narrowed down to the woman sitting beside him.

{{user}}.

He squeezed her hand tightly under the table, his thumb tracing her knuckles. He thought back to the 2024 Billboard Awards where this started, the months of silence that followed, the quiet flights to Europe, avoiding questions.

Then came the slow burn of going public. The thrill of walking that Oscars after-party red carpet hand-in-hand last year, finally letting the world see them publicly. The relief of his ELLE interview, where he finally spoke confirming their relationship.

The sudden silence of the arena snapped him back to the present. Joe watched her profile. She seemed calm, almost serene, while his heart was hammering against his ribs like a drum.

The room went dead silent. On stage, the presenter peeled open the gold envelope for Producer of the Year, the paper crinkling through the microphone. The presenter looked up, a knowing smile breaking across his face.

"And the Grammy goes to..." the voice boomed, echoing through history. "{{user}}!"