My Husband Is An International Idol

By the time Chris finally closed the lid of the piano inside the recording studio, the digital clock on the wall read 12:07 a.m.

The building had grown unusually quiet.

Most of the staff had already returned to the hotel, leaving only a handful of security personnel patrolling the hallways. The rehearsal rooms that had echoed with music all day now sat empty, while the bright stage lights had long since been switched off.

Chris stretched his sore shoulders as he walked through the empty hallways.

Liliana fell asleep while patiently waiting for him despite the late hour.

"You really should have gone back," he said with a guilty smile.

Liliana shook her head.

"I told you. I wanted to wait."

Chris sighed softly.

"I’ve been making you wait a lot lately."

She smiled and gently poked his forehead.

"You’ve been busy. The concert is in three days. I think that’s a reasonable excuse."

He laughed.

"Still, I owe you dinner."

Liliana looked outside the window.

"It’s already midnight."

"Exactly." He stood and held out his hand. "So, let’s go on a date."

Her emerald-green eyes widened.

"A date?"

Chris nodded seriously.

"A proper one."

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

"At midnight?"

"Why not? It’s quieter. And hopefully..."

He looked around dramatically.

"...less dangerous."

Liliana laughed.

"I think your definition of romance is strange."

"It worked."

"It did."

She slipped her hand into his.

"Let’s go."

Fifteen minutes later, the two quietly left the hotel through a private exit accompanied only by two discreet security officers who remained far enough away not to disturb them.

Chris wore an oversized black hooded jacket over a plain white shirt, dark jeans, and simple sneakers. A black face mask covered most of his features while the hood shaded his blond hair from view.

Anyone passing by would probably mistake him for an ordinary tourist.

Liliana had transformed herself just as successfully. Her long brown hair had been braided again into two neat pigtails.

The thick round glasses she had worn during her years as a housewife rested comfortably on her nose once again.

A navy baseball cap hid most of her face, while an oversized beige sweater and loose denim jeans completed the casual disguise.

She looked nothing like the elegant Prada model who had dominated headlines only days earlier.

Chris looked at her and smiled.

"I missed this version of you."

Liliana adjusted her glasses.

"The housewife?"

He nodded.

"She’s adorable."

She laughed.

"And the international idol?"

Chris shrugged.

"He took the night off."

Together they climbed into a waiting sedan.

The driver quietly pulled away from the hotel.

About twenty minutes later, the vehicle stopped in front of one of Paris’s most exclusive restaurants.

The entrance looked surprisingly ordinary despite its reputation.

No flashing signs. No crowds. Only elegant architecture and soft golden lighting.

Liliana looked around curiously.

"Is this the place?"

Chris nodded.

"It was recommended by dad. They’re very strict about privacy."

As they entered, the maître d’ greeted them politely.

"Good evening. Welcome, Mr. St. Claire."

Chris smiled beneath his mask. "Thank you."

The hostess led them toward a secluded corner overlooking the Seine River.

Several well-known politicians quietly enjoyed late dinners nearby.

A famous actress chatted with an international athlete across another table.

A luxury brand chairman discussed business with investors in the private dining area.

Nobody stared. Nobody interrupted. Everyone respected one another’s privacy.

Liliana relaxed almost immediately.

"It’s peaceful."

Chris nodded.

"That’s why I like this place."

Dinner arrived shortly afterward. Nothing extravagant.

Fresh pasta, grilled salmon, warm bread soup and a chocolate dessert that Liliana immediately insisted they share.

Chris smiled.

"You still don’t finish desserts by yourself."

She shook her head.

"They taste better when shared."

He quietly moved the plate toward the middle.

"I agree."

For a while, neither of them spoke. Not because the silence felt awkward. But because it felt comfortable.

Eventually, Liliana broke it.

"Are you done with the songs?"

Chris sighed dramatically. "Only two left."

She smiled proudly.

"You’ll finish them."

"I hope so."

"You always do."

He looked at her.

"You have more confidence in me than I do."

She laughed softly.

"I’ve always believed in you."

He lowered his gaze.

"I know."

A waiter quietly refilled their glasses before leaving.

Chris watched the city lights reflecting across the river.

"What about you?"

Liliana tilted her head.

"What about me?"

"How are you feeling?"

She understood immediately. He wasn’t asking about work..He was asking about everything.

She thought for a moment before smiling.

"I’m happy."

The answer came so naturally that even she seemed surprised.

Chris smiled too.

"Me too."

They spent the next hour talking about ordinary things.

They laughed about some jokes of Nathan and Nicolo until tears nearly formed in their eyes.

For a little while, there were no scandals, no paparazzi. No fan wars and stalkers.

Just a husband and wife quietly enjoying each other’s company.

It felt wonderfully normal.

Around two o’clock in the morning, Chris glanced at his watch.

"We should go."

Liliana nodded. "Tomorrow starts early."

Chris stood before naturally offering his hand. She accepted it without hesitation.

Their fingers intertwined comfortably.

Neither of them noticed the older couple dining nearby smiling at the sight.

"They look good together," the woman whispered.

Her husband nodded.

"They certainly do."

Chris and Liliana slowly walked toward the restaurant’s private exit.

The cool Parisian breeze greeted them as they stepped outside. The streets were almost empty. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement while the distant glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the horizon.

Liliana looked up.

"It’s beautiful."

Chris followed her gaze.

"It is."

Then, without thinking, he gently kissed her hand. She smiled at him.

For a brief moment, both believed they had escaped the attention of the world.

Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Across the narrow street, hidden behind a parked delivery van, a camera lens quietly adjusted its focus.

Click.

Chris opening the restaurant door for Liliana.

Click.

The couple smiling at one another beneath the streetlights.

Click.

Their fingers intertwined naturally as they walked toward the waiting sedan. Another photographer crouched behind a newspaper stand farther down the block.

Click.

Chris gently brushing a loose strand of hair away from Liliana’s face.

Click.

Liliana laughing at something he whispered.

Neither of them noticed.

They simply continued walking hand in hand.

The security officers scanned the surroundings, but the photographers were experienced. Patient. Invisible.

They had waited hours for someone famous to leave the restaurant.

Tonight, they had found the perfect story.

As the black sedan disappeared into the sleeping streets of Paris, one paparazzo quickly reviewed the photographs on his camera.

His eyes widened.

He smiled.

"This..."

He whispered excitedly.

"...is tomorrow’s headline."

And somewhere across the city, while Chris and Liliana peacefully returned to their hotel believing they had enjoyed one quiet midnight date...

The next storm had already begun.

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