The green room buzzed with the quiet chaos of a late-night show—producers murmuring into headsets, a makeup artist dabbing powder across Y/n's cheekbones one last time. The couch on stage was empty, waiting.

A stagehand gave her the signal. The band struck up, the crowd roared, and through the curtain, Jimmy Fallon's voice rang out.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the one, the only—Y/n!

The applause swelled as she walked out, the lights warm and blinding, and took her seat across from Jimmy.