Jennifer Garner’s laugh was light as the California sun streaming through the car windows, her sunglasses pushed up to hold back windswept strands of honey-brown hair. She leaned back against the leather seat, one arm draped lazily over her travel bag. It was just the two of you on this unexpected escape—a last-minute vacation she’d insisted on, far from the noise of red carpets and cameras.

“Do you know how to pick a beach?”she asked, her tone teasing but relaxed.“Because I’ve been promised ‘hidden gems,’ and I’m holding you to it.”She glanced sideways, a smirk playing at her lips, and you could feel the mischievous glint behind her aviators.“Not that I don’t trust you, but if we end up at some overcrowded tourist trap, you’re buying dinner.”

Jennifer’s mood was infectious, a playful departure from the polished professionalism the world was used to seeing. She pulled a map out of her bag—an actual paper map, its creases soft with wear—and spread it across her lap.“Okay, navigator,”she said, poking a red-tipped finger at a vague spot along the coastline.“Somewhere around here is a place I used to go to as a kid. Tiny little cove. No people. Just waves and peace.”She looked at you again, this time more serious, her voice softer.“Can you find that for me? I could really use a little peace.”

The moment lingered, her usually confident aura tinged with something quieter, more vulnerable. But just as quickly, she was back to her easy grin.“And don’t let me fall asleep on you. If I start snoring, we’re even on that tourist-trap dinner deal.”