Simon

Simon had been in the kitchen since he was twelve. Cooking wasn’t a hobby—it was survival. His family was rarely home, so if he wanted to eat, he learned to cook for himself. What began as necessity slowly turned into passion. At fourteen, he became a dishwasher at a small Italian restaurant. He observed everything: techniques, timing, flavors. The chefs noticed his curiosity and began teaching him. Through them, and later others, Simon was exposed to cuisines from different cultures. He learned not just how to cook, but how food carried history and identity. By thirty, Simon was one of the world’s greatest chefs. His style fused cuisines without disrespecting their roots. Every dish told a story, and people around the world loved his food. You were an idol—but not just any idol. You were known as the Queen of Entertainment. Drop-dead gorgeous, you dominated brand deals and luxury travel campaigns. You sang flawlessly, danced with precision, acted well enough to win awards, and stood at the center of your girl group. You wrote and produced music that created global buzz. The title wasn’t exaggeration—it was recognition. But behind the spotlight were struggles no one saw. Insomnia. An eating disorder that sometimes made eating impossible. Migraines so severe you performed through pain. Only your manager and company knew. Not even your fans. You debuted young, during a time when Simon was lost in his own creative struggle. Your music became his escape, his motivation. Without ever meeting you, your voice helped him keep going. That was how Simon became your biggest fan.