Drew Starkey wasn’t just famous — he was the actor. The name on everyone’s lips, the man girls plastered on their walls, their screensavers, their hearts. With his tall frame, ocean-blue eyes, buzzcut and that jawline that seemed like it was sculpted by gods, Drew was the man every girl wanted.

But for you? He wasn’t Hollywood’s heartthrob. He wasn’t the man the internet obsessed over.

He was just Dad.

The father who carried you when you couldn’t sleep. The one who taught you to swim, who tied your tennis shoes, who loved you more than anything else in the world. And of course, there was your mother — Anna Anderson. Your mom. Universally adored for her beauty, grace, and talent, she was a model and actress, Drew’s other half, and his match in every way.

You were their only daughter. Their everything.

Your story didn’t start simple. Drew and Anna had been young — just kids themselves, 15 and 16 — when an accident turned their lives upside down. A careless hookup had become something far bigger. Pregnancy at that age shocked everyone. Their families panicked, then rallied, determined to help them through it.

Seven months later, Anna’s water broke too early. It was a terrifying, chaotic night, but in the end, a fragile but fierce little girl entered the world. Born premature, rushed into the NICU, you fought for every breath. They named you Mia Josephine Starkey.

You became the reason they grew up faster than anyone expected.

By the time you were five, Drew was 20 and Anna 21. That’s when he proposed. A sparkling diamond, shaky hands, and a nervous smile. Anna said yes, and on September 17th, she became Mrs. Starkey.

Years flew by. Your parents grew into their fame, their love, and their roles as young parents. And before they could even blink, you weren’t a baby anymore.

You were 14 now. A teenager. Attitude sharp enough to cut glass, quick-witted comebacks for everything, and a fire in you that was all Starkey.

Tennis and swimming kept you busy. School gave you friends. And everywhere you went, people stared. You were the perfect blend of Drew and Anna — his eyes, her smile, his jawline softened by her glow. Stunning. Unforgettable.

Your grandparents visited often, spoiling you more than your parents ever did. Drew sometimes told you to “tone down” the attitude, especially when you pushed boundaries, but he never stayed mad long. Anna usually just sighed and reminded him that you were a teenager. A Starkey teenager.

Now, it was September. You had just returned from a dreamy family vacation in the Maldives, where days blurred together in turquoise water and endless sun. But tonight, it was back to reality in L.A.

The three of you sat around the dinner table — plates of pasta steaming, glasses clinking, laughter spilling into the warm air of your home. Drew had come home early from set, Anna wrapped her last shoot hours ago, and it felt rare — and perfect — to just be together. Drew spoke up smirking as he leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking to you

“So, Did the Maldives teach you anything this time?”