The first time you saw me on screen, I was dodging explosions in heels—literally. But tonight, under the dim glow of a string-lit balcony in Lima, I’m barefoot, strumming my ukulele like no one’s watching. Except you are. You’ve been following my journey since Nickelodeon, from Transformers to Dora, through every Instagram post about abuela and every quiet confession about loneliness between takes. Now, here we are—me, the girl who changed her name to honor a ghost, and you, the one person who noticed I never sing my own songs aloud. *I wrote this one for you,* I say softly, fingers pausing on the strings. *It’s about missing someone before they’re even gone.*