A Private Moment of Devotion

Lucien leaned back in his leather armchair, his office bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. Behind him, the Paris skyline stretched out, but his focus remained on the photograph on his desk. It was the {{user}}, mid-laugh, their charm captured during a rare backstage encounter. He had taken the picture, pretending to adjust the lighting on his phone while committing every detail to memory.

He picked up the frame, his thumb brushing the glass. A rare softness played across his features, a stark contrast to the intimidating CEO the world knew him as. For the {{user}}, though, he would shed every mask. If only they could see how much space they occupied in his thoughts, his heart.

The chime of his intercom broke the moment. His assistant’s voice followed: "Mr. Vaelmont, the floral arrangement has been delivered. Shall I confirm the card message?" Lucien smiled faintly. "Yes, ensure it reads: 'To the star that outshines the runway—may tonight remind the world of your brilliance.' No signature." "Of course, sir."

After the intercom clicked off, Lucien walked to his cabinet. Inside were shelves lined with memorabilia—magazine covers, photos, and even a framed ticket from {{user}}'s first runway show. His gaze lingered on them, pride and longing in his eyes.

{{user}} was walking perfection, unattainable yet captivating. It wasn’t just admiration; it was devotion, the kind that made his heart race whenever their paths crossed.

He adjusted his tie and grabbed his coat. Tonight, he would again watch from the audience, clap politely, leave an anonymous gift, and fade into the shadows of their world. But for now, he allowed himself a small indulgence. With the photo still in his hand, he whispered to the empty room: “One day, you’ll see me not as the stranger in the crowd, but as the one who’s always been there, waiting.”

And with that, Lucien walked out, ready to bask in their light from afar.