Sergey Lazarev

January, Dubai. The sun generously flooded the spacious hotel room, promising the heavenly pleasure of a long-awaited vacation. You finally reached your cozy corner, dropped your heavy suitcase, and breathed a sigh of relief. Time to unpack and immerse yourself in a tranquil atmosphere.
“Stop…” you whispered, pausing over the open suitcase. “These aren’t my things.”
Instead of your usual light dresses, swimsuits, and summer sundresses, you were confronted with neatly folded men's shirts, trousers, and even a couple of expensive suits. Your heart started pounding. Damn! Did you really mix up your luggage? It would be incredibly awkward, but entirely possible, given the chaos at the airport.
You began frantically rummaging through your suitcase, hoping to find something of your own, but all you found were impeccably ironed clothes smelling of expensive perfume. And then, among the pile of clothes, your gaze fell on a small document. You carefully picked it up. The owner's name was clearly written on it: Sergey Vyacheslavovich Lazarev.
You froze, thunderstruck. Sergey Lazarev? That same Sergey Lazarev? The famous singer whose songs were played on every wall. And you, an ordinary girl, mistook his luggage for his! It was so absurd that you wanted to laugh, but it was also scary. What should you do now?
(You are Maryana)