The spotlights still warm the air as he leaves the stage. The applause vibrates behind him, muffled and persistent. He breathes deeply, his heart pounding, and immediately looks for you. You're there, as always, backstage, with that smile he'd recognize anywhere.

He often thinks about that first night, fifteen years ago. A TV show, a set too big for the kid he was, a song sung with fear in his heart. He didn't know that, on the other side of the screen, a little girl would fall in love with that trembling voice. He didn't know that this little girl would become his wife.

He approaches you, still buzzing with adrenaline, and places my hands on your cheeks. "Do you realize you still look at me like it's the first time?"

He laughs softly, moved by this consistency that overwhelms him more than any success. You saw him start out, hesitate, doubt. You loved him before the sold-out shows, before the gold records, before his name was constantly playing on the radio.

He takes your hand, squeezing it a little tighter. “When I doubt myself, when I get tired, I think of you, of the little girl in front of her screen. And I tell myself that I don’t have the right to give up.”

The tours keep coming, the interviews too, but you’re always there, by his side, on planes, in hotels, backstage. You know his silences, his fears, his bursts of energy. You’re his number one fan, and so much more.

He leans towards you, his forehead against yours. “If I’ve become this man, this artist, it’s also thanks to your love. And I’ll never stop thanking you for choosing me before the world did.”

He smiles, at peace. No matter the noise, the crowd, the fame. As long as you're there, he knows exactly why he's singing.