The world knew her as Joy.
The girl who smiled like happiness itself had taken human form.
On the massive stage of an international arena, under blinding lights and roaring cheers, Joy stood with a microphone in her hand, her voice flowing effortlessly through the speakers and into millions of hearts. Every movement she made was graceful, every note she sang filled with warmth.
People said she didn't just sing—
She made people feel alive.
The concert ended with thunderous applause, the sound echoing long after the final note faded. Joy bowed deeply, her smile bright and genuine as she waved at the crowd.
"Thank you for being with me tonight," she said softly. "I'll see you again soon."
The words were simple.
But for her fans, they meant everything.
Backstage, the noise faded into a distant hum.
Joy wiped the sweat from her forehead, laughing lightly as one of her team members handed her a bottle of water.
"You were amazing as always," her manager said.
"You say that every time," Joy replied, smiling.
She always smiled.
Not because she was forced to.
But because she believed smiles mattered.
She moved through the room, thanking every staff member personally—sound technicians, dancers, makeup artists. She remembered names. She asked if they were tired. She listened.
To the world, she was a global star.
To the people around her, she was simply Joy.
The next morning, the capital city buzzed with excitement.
Joy's upcoming event had been announced officially.
Banners filled the streets. News channels repeated her name. Social media exploded with anticipation.
And now, she sat in a brightly lit television studio, preparing for a live interview.
The host adjusted his cue cards, smiling nervously.
"So," he said as the camera light turned red, "you're finally coming to the capital. Fans are beyond excited."
Joy laughed softly.
"I'm excited too," she said. "It's been a long time."
"What keeps you going, Joy?" the host asked. "You've achieved so much. Fame, success, love from millions."
Joy paused.
For just a second.
Then she smiled again—gentler this time.
"The people," she said. "If my voice can make someone feel less alone, even for a moment, then everything is worth it."
The studio audience applauded.
Across the city, far away from the lights and cameras, Ivan wiped down a wooden table inside a small restaurant.
The lunch rush had ended. The place smelled faintly of soap and leftover food. The radio played quietly in the background, barely noticed.
Ivan worked silently.
He always did.
At twenty-four, he had learned to depend only on himself. He didn't ask for help. He didn't complain. He came in early, left late, and kept his thoughts to himself.
People often mistook his silence for coldness.
They were wrong.
Ivan simply didn't like sharing what he couldn't afford to lose.
A coworker suddenly walked over, phone in hand, excitement clear on his face.
"Ivan, look," he said. "Joy's live interview is on right now."
He turned the phone screen toward him.
"She's so cute," the coworker continued.
"And beautiful too. People who see her every day must be incredibly lucky."
Ivan didn't reply.
His eyes had already moved to the screen.
Joy's face filled it—soft smile, calm eyes, warmth that somehow crossed the distance between a television studio and a quiet restaurant.
Ivan froze.
He didn't know why.
He had never attended a concert.
Never followed idols.
Never waited for anyone.
And yet… something about her felt familiar.
Not like a stranger.
Like a memory he couldn't place.
He watched as she spoke, as she smiled, as she laughed gently at the host's questions.
It felt like watching the sun through a window.
Warm—but unreachable.
After a few seconds, Ivan looked away.
He handed the coworker back the phone and returned to cleaning the table, his expression unchanged.
No excitement.
No comment.
No reaction.
But his hands moved a little slower than before.
And for the rest of the day, the image of a smiling girl named Joy stayed quietly with him—
like a song he didn't realize he had memorized.