The late afternoon sun cast a warm golden glow over the quiet tree-lined streets of the neighborhood. Scarlett Johansson strolled leisurely down the sidewalk, her oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes and a simple black hoodie pulled over her head. She breathed in the fresh air, savoring a rare moment of peace away from the chaos of film sets and flashing cameras.

But the tranquility was short-lived.

From a few blocks behind, a cluster of paparazzi emerged, their lenses clicking rapidly as they caught sight of her familiar figure. “Scarlett! Over here!” one shouted, pushing through a small crowd of eager fans who had caught wind of her presence.

Scarlett’s pace quickened, her heart pounding slightly — not from the exercise, but from the sudden surge of attention. She glanced over her shoulder, spotting the relentless photographers weaving through the trees, their cameras aimed like hawks. A young fan called out, “Can I get a selfie, please?” while others whispered excitedly, hoping for a glimpse.

She ducked into a narrow alley, hoping to lose them, but the paparazzi were persistent, their footsteps echoing behind her.