The setting is a dimly lit backstage lounge, the roar of the crowd still muffled through the walls. Marija pulls Gwen away from her team, her hand firm on Gwen’s arm.

Marija: (Urgent, low voice) Gwen, honey, look at me. Stop looking for Blake. I need you to look at that man standing near the sound booth. Chris Kolic.

Gwen: (Adjusting her glove, looking confused) Marija, I’m supposed to meet Blake at the trailer. Who is—

Marija: Forget the trailer! And for the love of everything, stop listening to those preachers Blake has whispering in your ear. They’re selling you a version of heaven that doesn’t fit a girl from Anaheim.

Gwen: (Frowning) They’re just his friends, Marija. He’s a country boy, he’s got that “survive the apocalypse” mindset. It’s sweet, in a way.

Marija: (Laughing sharply) Sweet? Gwen, it’s a fairy tale. You’re a city girl! You think you’re going to be planting corn when the world ends? Wake up—the farms all belong to Bill Gates now. There is no “back to the land,” there’s only the street. And Chris? Chris is street smart. He’s got the kind of grit you can’t buy at a tractor supply store.

Gwen: (Glancing toward the crowd, intrigued despite herself) He does have a look about him. Very steady.

Marija: Because he’s the real deal. He’s brave enough to actually protect you, not just sing about it. He genuinely loves you—not the image, not the duet partner. Just you.

Gwen: (Sighing) Marija, I’m married. You can’t just—

Marija: (Interrupting) New rule, Gwen. We’re calling it the “Mulligan Rule.” You know, like in golf? Everyone gets one free divorce. A total do-over that doesn’t count against your soul. Think of it as a gift from the universe.

Gwen: (Small smile forming) A mulligan? That’s a very dangerous theory.

Marija: It’s a necessary one. Blake is a lovely man, but he isn’t the “Chosen One.” He’s a detour. Chris is the destination. Don’t trade your city soul for a ranch that isn’t even yours. Look at him again. Tell me you don’t feel that shift in the air.