The Golden Globes buzzed with its usual glitz and glamor, but tonight felt electric. Rumors swirled: Tom Holland and Zendaya had something special planned. They arrived hand in hand, Zendaya’s shimmering silver gown reflecting every camera flash, while Tom looked dashing in a tailored black tux.

As the night unfolded, the rumors proved true. When Tom won for Best Actor, he invited Zendaya to the stage, his voice trembling as he reached into his pocket. The audience gasped as he knelt on one knee, the spotlight making the diamond ring sparkle like a star.

“Zendaya,” he began, his voice breaking slightly. “You’ve made my life more magical than I could have ever imagined. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, the microphone catching her words just enough for the crowd to erupt in cheers.

Confetti rained, violins played, and the world collectively swooned. But as the applause faded, an unsettling hum filled the room. It grew louder, drowning out the orchestra. Then the lights flickered, and every screen in the venue turned black.

From the back of the hall, a figure emerged. Dressed in what could only be described as a metallic suit that shimmered like liquid mercury, the intruder moved with impossible grace. Gasps turned to silence as the figure reached the stage, their face obscured by a featureless, mirrored mask.

“Congratulations, Tom and Zendaya,” the figure said, their voice echoing as though coming from the depths of a canyon. “Your union has been observed far beyond this Earth.”

Zendaya clutched Tom’s hand, her usual composure slipping into unease. “Who... are you?” she managed.

“I am a messenger,” the figure replied. “Your love is rare—an energy that ripples through dimensions. My people have traveled eons to witness it.”

A murmur spread through the audience, half in awe, half in terror. Was this a prank? An elaborate publicity stunt? No one dared to move.

Tom, though clearly shaken, found his voice. “Okay, uh, thank you? But why are you here?”

“To offer a gift,” the figure said. They raised a hand, and a small orb of light appeared, floating gently between them. “This contains the essence of your love—a spark so powerful it can fuel civilizations. In exchange, we ask for nothing but to observe your journey together.”

Zendaya’s eyes narrowed, her natural skepticism returning. “And if we say no?”

The figure paused, tilting their head as if considering. “Then we leave, and you will live your lives as you would have. But the opportunity to share your love with the cosmos will be lost.”

Tom and Zendaya exchanged a glance, their unspoken bond clear. Finally, Zendaya stepped forward. “We’ll keep our love for ourselves,” she said firmly.

The figure bowed, the orb dissipating into a shower of harmless sparks. “A wise choice. Your love will remain yours alone—but know that it has already touched the stars.”

With that, the figure vanished, the lights flickering back to life. The room was silent, stunned, before a wave of nervous laughter and applause swept through.

Later, when reporters asked if it was all a publicity stunt, Tom and Zendaya only smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

But on their wedding day, as they danced beneath a full moon, they both swore the stars were shining just a little brighter.