The airport buzzed with the usual chaos—people rushing, luggage wheels rolling, the faint voice of an announcer calling out flight details. Amidst it all, she stood frozen, phone pressed to her ear.

"The number you are trying to reach is currently unreachable."

She cursed under her breath. "Damn it."

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Not ten minutes ago, a stranger had shoved a wallet into her hands, claiming it belonged to a friend—someone flying from LA to Boston. The guy had forgotten it, and the stranger, clearly in a hurry, had asked her to call him and return it. But now the number was useless.

Frustrated, she hesitated before flipping open the wallet. "Just a quick peek—maybe an ID, another contact number..."

Her fingers brushed against a photograph. She pulled it out—and everything around her faded into white noise.

It was him.

The most famous singer from Boston. The one whose songs had been on her playlist since she was a teenager. The one whose concerts she had dreamed of attending but never could.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

And then she saw him.

A few feet away, he was on his phone, brows furrowed, pacing slightly.

"Bro, what the hell do you mean you gave it to someone?" His voice was sharp, annoyed.

"She looked trustworthy, man. She said she’d call you," the voice on the other end replied.

"Well, she hasn’t. And I need my damn wallet before I board. Where the hell is she?"

Her heart pounded. "They’re talking about me."

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. "Excuse me..."

He turned, eyes locking onto her. Up close, he was even more unreal. Sharp jawline, slightly messy hair, an effortless kind of charisma that made her stomach flip.

"I—uh—your wallet," she said, holding it out.

His shoulders relaxed, relief flashing across his face—until his gaze dropped to her hand.

"How did you find me?" he asked, a slow, cautious edge creeping into his voice.

She swallowed. "I—I saw your picture."

His smile faded.

"You went through my stuff?" His tone wasn’t loud, but it hit like a slap.

"I—I didn’t mean to! The number wasn’t working, so I—"

But he was already reaching for the wallet, his expression shutting down. "Thanks," he muttered, then turned and walked off, leaving her standing there, heart sinking.

"Well," she thought bitterly. "So much for meeting my idol."

She sighed, dragging her suitcase toward the check-in counter. The excitement of meeting her idol had been completely overshadowed by how quickly he had walked away—like she was just another inconvenience in his day.

"Next, please," the flight attendant called.

Forcing herself to focus, she stepped forward and placed her luggage on the scale. The attendant frowned at the screen. "Ma’am, your baggage exceeds the weight limit."

She groaned inwardly. "Of course it does."

"By how much?" she asked, already knowing she had no way of fixing it.

"Four kilos over," the attendant replied. "You’ll have to either remove some items or pay the excess fee."

She exhaled sharply, staring at her overstuffed suitcase. "What the hell am I supposed to take out?"

"Great," she muttered. "Just great."

She was about to ask about the extra charges when a familiar voice cut through the moment.

"Excuse me," his voice was smooth, polite.

Her head snapped up in shock.

He was standing right next to her.

"I think I have some space left in my luggage," he said, flashing a charming smile at the attendant. "Maybe you could put some of her things in mine?"

The flight attendant blinked, clearly taken aback. "Oh—um, sir, that’s—"

"I don’t mind," he continued easily, slipping his hands into his pockets. He glanced at her, his expression softer than before. "If that’s alright with you?"

She just stared at him, wide-eyed, as he casually stepped in to fix her problem—like he hadn’t been pissed at her just minutes ago.

She barely registered what the flight attendant was saying. She was too busy watching him, utterly surprised that he was reaching out to her.