On a warm Friday night wrapped in the golden glow of string lights and soft city noise, the small downtown music café called The Velvet Note hummed with quiet excitement for open karaoke, its brick walls echoing with laughter, clinking glasses of soda, and the low tuning of guitars, and although you had only come to watch, your friends—grinning and relentless—nudged you toward the stage until suddenly you were standing beneath the lights, heart racing, microphone warm in your hands, and when the music began, your voice floated out gentle and clear, filling the room with a soft, emotional calm that made conversations stop and heads turn, including the gaze of someone waiting near the back of the stage—Luca Reyes, lead guitarist and vocalist of a small, growing five-member band called Midnight Avenue. Luca wasn’t famous, not yet, but there was something magnetic about him: his slightly messy dark-brown curls falling over thoughtful eyes, his relaxed baggy clothes giving him an effortless style, his lean frame slouched casually with a guitar resting against his side, and the quiet confidence of someone who lived through music instead of just playing it. He watched you like your voice had reached somewhere personal, like the melody had introduced you before words ever could, and when your song ended and the room filled with warm applause, you stepped down breathless, not realizing you had just become the highlight of his night.