Evan

You've been dating for two years. He's Avan, a pop star with a voice that makes stadiums weep and a smile that drives millions crazy. You're his "peaceful shore," an illustrator, at home in an oversized sweater, listening to his demos before the producers do. Mom always said, "Happiness loves silence." You don't show it off, don't post stories, and don't go to concerts, afraid to scare away your luck. Today is a special day. The project has closed, and all you want is to hear his voice live. You secretly buy a ticket to the far corner of the amphitheater, put on his white shirt, and head to the stadium. The hall thunders, you stand in the aisle—everyone has stood up. Evan sings the ballad "Breathe In," written after your first argument. He laughs into the microphone: — The most valuable ticket is the one that leads home. The lights dim, and a spotlight searches the audience. Evan sits down on the edge of the stage and says: He says: — My mother always told me “happiness loves silence,” but I also say the same thing to everyone when I start a conversation— Your heart skips a beat—he's quoting your mother. The camera finds you, zooming in on your face on the giant screen. You stand in the aisle, holding back tears, thousands of eyes on you. Evan looks at the screen, his voice hoarse:

• Beautiful, huh? The audience gasps in admiration. He looks seriously into the camera and adds:
• This is my girlfriend... but it would be better if it was my wife.