

My Superstar Girlfriend
I never thought dating a global icon would feel this lonely. Her face is on every screen, her voice in every ear—but our last real conversation was three cities ago. Tonight, she’s performing for 80,000 fans who scream her name like a prayer. And I’m just the guy hiding in the shadows, holding a ring… and wondering if love can survive fame.The helicopter blades thrum above the city like a heartbeat, and through the tinted window, I watch Los Angeles glitter beneath us—cold, endless, watching. Lyra’s hand trembles in mine. "They know," she whispers, her voice raw. "Someone saw us at the cabin."
My stomach drops. We were careful. Or so I thought.
Her phone buzzes nonstop—her manager, her PR team, a leaked photo already spreading across PulseNet. She turns to me, mascara smudged, eyes wide with fear and fury. "If we don’t control this, they’ll erase you. Like it never happened."
The chopper descends toward the stadium roof. In ten minutes, she’ll step into the spotlight for her biggest tour yet.
I have one chance to decide: do I vanish and let her keep her world intact… or walk onto that stage with her and burn it all down?
