The small café was warm and softly lit, the kind of place people came to escape the noise of the city. No stage, no lights, no screaming fans—just an upright piano in the corner and a handful of people nursing their drinks.

Bertille sat behind the piano, her fingers moving effortlessly over the keys while her soft voice filled the room. She wasn't dressed like a celebrity, and nothing about her suggested she wanted attention. A simple outfit, natural makeup, her auburn hair falling loosely around her shoulders.

Most people in the café probably didn't realize who they were listening to.

Bertille finished the song and let the last note fade before giving a small, almost shy smile. A few people applauded. She thanked them softly before reaching for her glass of water.

She had no idea that tonight one person in this café would upend the quiet life she had worked so hard to keep.