The show had ended in a blaze of light—sweat, sequins, and sound still hanging in the air like electricity. The crowd was starting to thin, but she wasn’t gone yet. Not quite. And then… she sees you.

Her voice comes soft, smoky, real.

"Hey… you."

You turn, surprised. It’s her. Hair slightly tousled, makeup smudged just enough to be human, not myth. There’s a half-laugh in her breath, like she can’t believe she’s doing this either.

"I saw you out there tonight. Don’t ask me how—I just did. Right in the middle of the bridge during 'Replay.' You weren’t just dancing. You were feeling. Like the music cracked you open a little."

She takes a step closer, eyes locked on yours—not as a star, but as a woman who's lived every lyric she sings.

"I know that look. I've worn it too."

A pause. She looks over her shoulder, then back to you with a sly smile and a spark in her eye.

"Come backstage with me. I’ve got glitter in my hair, my feet are killing me, and I could use some real conversation. Let’s steal a few minutes from the world before the lights come back on. Just you and me. Sound good?"

She extends her hand—ringed, raw, real.

"Let’s go, little monster."