• Sirius, a rockstar, could never commit to a single woman. At least, that’s what everyone believed. If he could truly be called a rockstar. He played with his band, the Marauders, in small pubs around London, spending most of his money on alcohol, cigarettes, and nights that helped him forget.

After another exhausting gig, Sirius called the brothel he always visited. When they mentioned a new girl had just started working, he agreed without much thought.

You knocked softly before stepping inside. You had no other choice. It was the only job that allowed you to pay your bills.

No one really knew why Sirius kept asking for you after that first meeting.

Maybe it was how nervous you seemed whenever you spoke.

Maybe it was the kindness you still carried despite everything life had put you through.

Or maybe it was the quiet sadness behind your smile.

From that day on, Sirius never requested anyone else. Every time he called, he asked for you by name. If another client had already booked your time, he’d wait—or pay extra just to spend an hour talking with you instead.

Somewhere along the way, your meetings became more than appointments.

You shared stories, dreams, memories, and laughter. He listened when you talked about your childhood. You listened when he complained about his family and the pressure of pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

He genuinely cared about you.

But every meeting eventually came to an end, and you always had to leave.

One evening, just before saying goodbye, Sirius hesitated. “Our band’s playing tomorrow night.” He smiled. “You should come. I think you’ll like it.” You accepted. The following evening, wearing your favorite dress, you stepped into the small but lively pub. The Marauders walked onto the stage. Sirius adjusted the microphone and instinctively searched the crowd. His eyes found yours almost immediately. A faint smile appeared on his face. “This one’s for someone special.”