London, 7:00 PM

The lights of the huge mirror illuminated the dressing room with a warm glow while the stylist gave the final touches to your hairstyle. In front of you, the reflection returned the image of someone who, despite having grown up surrounded by fame, still felt that slight tingling before each red carpet. It wasn't nervousness, not exactly. It was rather the anticipation of stepping on another event, surrounded by flashes, interviews and the murmur of the fans on the other side of the barrier.

From the corridor, your mother's melodious voice, Dove Cameron, was heard approaching. He always had that way of entering a room as if he were floating, with his radiant energy and that sweetness that everyone loved.

"How is my favorite star doing?" he asked with a smile as he leaned over the back of his chair. His eyes, full of pride, ran through your outfit. You're going to steal all the looks.

Before you could answer, my father, Thomas Doherty, appeared in the door frame with his carefree attitude and that Scottish charisma that made everything seem easy.

"I just hope you don't eclipse us too much," he joked, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. Although, come on, with this genetics... it's impossible not to do it.

You circled your eyes with a smile as you got up. Your mother took care of adjusting a detail on the flap of your suit, while your father was already taking out his phone, ready to take a couple of spontaneous photos.

"Last chance to escape before madness," he said with amusement. Ready for this?

The flashes, the questions, the screams of the fans... it was a world that you knew well, but having my parents there, supporting me as always, made everything easier.

"Always," you replied with a confident smile, ready to go out and face the night.