Finally free from the crowd at the gas station, we settle into the car's air-conditioned sanctuary. The paved road stretches ahead, winding between green hills that promise adventure and isolation.

  I should have felt relieved — after all, we'd just escaped a swarm of fans who'd practically turned that tiny convenience store into an impromptu meet-and-greet. But something about that strange man's contemptuous smile lingers in my head. The way he'd stood apart from the crowd, leaning against his white truck, in his green overalls, making that exaggerated gesture: ‘Please, you can pass, your Highness.’ My thoughts scatter as Zoe's voice fills the car...

  Zoe, my niece, is the perfect blend of her mother and father. Her skin is neither the translucent white of her mother nor the deep tone of her father’s Aboriginal heritage. She had the large, striking eyes that ran in our family and the dark hair of her father’s side.

  Lovely, but merciless. For the thousandth time, she chose the same children's song, so silly that for the first time, I was able to memorize it. And, to my irritation, it began to take over my mind, tempting me to sing along.

  “Everywhere you go, people ask you to take your shirt off. Why? I do not remember that line." Zoe pulls me to look at her.

  As if the musical torture wasn’t enough, now she’s bringing up a topic I’d rather avoid.

  “In some scenes, I appear shirtless.” I keep it brief.

  “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t poke at his open wound. He already wants to change roles to see if the heartthrob stereotype fades away,” Ella gives me an ironic smile as if she’s found the best joke of the day.

  “As if he wants to stop being sexy.” Wally glances sideways. “He doesn't want to be just sexy.”

  “He’s not just sexy, he’s the ideal man, right? Everyone says that.” Zoe nods.

  “I don’t want to be the talentless actor who relies only on his body to get roles. They’ve trapped me in one type of character — the protagonist, but in a somewhat secondary way,” I vent.

  “Lots of screen time, impactful, but relatively few words,” Wally suggests. “You can summarize the plot without mentioning his character — just remembering: ‘Oh, JJ plays someone in that movie... You know, that handsome actor? He takes his shirt off in the movie…’.”

  “Honestly, I like her acting. People who can't see your brilliant performance beyond your looks are distracted by the impact of your attractiveness,” Ella smiles at me, and even I can't hold back a laugh. Damn…

  “Oh, I understand you, JJ. I'm on your side - it must be very difficult to be so irresistible.” Wally stabs me in the back with his fake sympathy. “I know you only want to be respected, so they don’t objectify you so much,” he adds with a kind smile.

  “Alright, enough of that. Let’s change the subject — we’re not here to dwell on it, we’re here to have fun,” I say.

  “I can’t wait to try the food of that famous YouTuber who will be at the festival.” Ella helps me.

  “I don't even know what I'm going to order first. At least we have several days, so I’ll have plenty of time to try everything I want! Look.” Zoe shows me the menu photos on her tablet.

  “Me too. I want to know if it tastes the same as the recipes I follow. I wonder if it really turns out exactly the same,” Wally comments.

  “Your dishes are delicious, probably even better than WG's,” Ella compliments, and her husband gets shy.

  Wally, a man so big that even driving a huge 4x4, it looks like he’s sitting in a toy. And yet, right now, he seems small. That’s the power of a compliment from his wife. I’m not sure if I find it funny or endearing. Maybe both. But I decided not to let it slide.

  “Did you become a chef? I can just picture you in an apron… it must look like a napkin!”

  “You’d be surprised at how many hobbies my wife finds for me. Just to keep me busy after I stopped playing. While she works, I have hobbies.”

  “You work too,” Ella points out.

  “True. If you consider my teacher’s salary — something barely above insignificant compared to yours — it’s basically a paid hobby’.”

  “Alright, so next time a student tells you that you’ve changed their life, I’ll remember that it’s just a ‘paid hobby,” Ella shoots back without hesitation, making it clear how ridiculous his comment was.

  “If the issue was that you were struggling financially, I'd understand your complaint. But that’s not the case,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “Who cares if Ella earns more? People don’t judge it the way they used to. There’s nothing wrong with that.

  And I’m sure you enjoy some of your hobbies… like cooking those YouTuber recipes,” I say with a playful grin.

  “Speaking of hobbies, he also started practicing archery again,” Ella says.

  “Have you ever practiced archery? Was I gone that long?” I ask, curious.

  “Not many people know, but my mother taught me,” he replies.

  “I found it in an old album. His mother even won a scholarship by competing in archery,” Ella adds.

  “He’s teaching me too,” Zoe says. “But you need a lot of arm strength to shoot far.”

  “I’ll buy a bow for kids,” Ella promises, making her daughter smile.

  With a light mood, I watch Ella hug her daughter in the back seat. But beside me, Wally's cheerful smile fades as he stares blankly at the road ahead.

  Maybe being reminded that his wife is the one supporting the family weighs on him. Does it make him feel useless? Less of a man? Is the pressure coming from within, or is someone else making him feel this way? Is that what’s bothering him?

  But he keeps himself composed. Act the best he can in front of his wife and daughter, maintaining a calm smile.

  The music and the jokes continue. But despite his efforts, Wally doesn’t rejoin the fun as he did before. He pretends to be very busy focusing on the road, which worries Ella.

  “Now what? Which way?” Wally asks, still a bit disconnected. “It looks like both ways lead to the campsite.”

  “Let's take the dirt road. A very nice couple mentioned that, since we're camping this way, we should enjoy the panoramic view from this road,” Ella suggests.

  “How did they say this road is?” I ask, concerned.

  “We’re in a 4X4. We checked everything before the trip — it's all good. And the couple said the road isn’t difficult,” Ella replies. “It should be fine.”

  “It’ll be an adventure,” Zoe cheers up.

  “It’ll be fun.” Wally tries to support the two.

  They all look at me, and I agree, trying not to show my lack of enthusiasm due to my bad experiences with nature.

  Why would we choose to suffer? Because my cousin believes that this will somehow cheer Wally up.

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  I believe it’s a way for him to see how life could be more unhappy and difficult. So he would appreciate the life he has — full of blessings.

  He doesn’t just have a family that loves and supports him. He also has a comfortable bed, four walls that protect him, air conditioning, light, a fridge, and quick access to a variety of foods. And more importantly, a clean bathroom nearby. All he has to do is press a button, and everything disappears.

  Only one day of camping, one night, and then we’ll be in a luxury hotel, with all the pampering money can buy.

  It’s for my friend, his daughter’s childhood memories, and my cousin’s peace of mind.

  For me, it’s also a ... change in routine, even though the experiences I had haven’t been great. It won’t be that bad, it’s with them, and the journey here was fun.

  If things fall apart, Wally will be right there, dealing with the fallout alongside me. My bad experiences only get worse when something goes wrong, and then a bunch of assholes look at me, expecting me to come up with something to help.

  I feel useful, yes. Masculine, yes. I feel exhausted, and dirty, doing the job no one else wants to do, while the others have fun in comfort, yes.

  At least I know Wally will be with me, doing the same. Everything won’t fall on my shoulders and my total improvised experience.

  “Uncle, why exactly are you the ideal man?” Zoe stares at me with those bright, curious eyes, swinging her little legs as she waits for my answer.

  I sigh. “I’m not.” Here we go again with the stereotype talk.

  “But everyone calls you that. Even my teacher!”

  I roll my eyes. Great. “Well, the internet made that up. They took scenes from my movies and interviews, made memes, and somehow, now everyone thinks I’m this ‘ideal man’.”

  She tilts her head, thoughtful. “But you don’t like it?”

  “It’s complicated, Zoe. I like my job, I like it when people watch and have fun. But sometimes, when people talk about me that way, it feels like they’re not seeing who I really am — just a character.”

  Zoe pursed her lips. “So… it’s like when Grandma calls me a princess, but I’m not really one?”

  I chuckle. “Something like that.”

  “But I like being a princess.”

  I shrug. “And I like being an actor. I just don’t like when people forget that I’m more than that.”

  Zoe watches me as if processing this idea. “Do you believe my teacher thought I was lying when I said you were my uncle? I showed her a picture, but she said she’d only believe me if I brought you to school. When classes start again, I need to introduce you to her.

  But I don’t know… My friends say it’s just her plan to meet you, so you can be the ideal man for her.” Oh, of course. This wouldn’t be the first time. “Doesn’t matter — I need to prove I wasn’t lying! To her and my friends.

  You’ll come to school with me, right? Pretty please?” She bats her puppy eyes in an adorably manipulative way.

  “When does your school start?” I ask. Zoe looks at her mom.

  “Before you fly back. A girl has been picking on Zoe, saying she’s lying. Going won’t kill you.” From Ella’s look, I know I don’t have a choice.

  “Okay.”

  Zoe grins, satisfied, then suddenly the subject: “But I still don’t get why they call you the ideal man?”

  “Ah... It’s just a way of saying.”

  “So, you’re lying? You’re not an ideal man?”

  I let out a tired sigh. “No.” Why won’t she drop this?

  “Then why do people say it?”

  “Because they confuse fiction with reality.”

  “So they’re dumb?” Yes, end of discussion.

  “No, it’s just that, in most of my roles, I play men who are considered ideal by society’s standards, and that’s how people got the idea to call me that.”

  “So, your girlfriend isn’t as lucky as everyone thinks, huh? You guys aren’t the ideal couple? The ideal woman and the ideal man together.”

  “Zoe, ‘ideal’ is just an idea. It doesn’t exist.”

  She frowns. “But you are dating, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why? If you’re not ideal?”

  I let out a weak laugh. “If we waited to be a perfect couple before dating, no one would ever be together.”

  Zoe seems to think about it. “My mom and dad are perfect together.”

  Ella sighs. “We love each other, but not everything is always perfect, Zoe.”

  “But if you already love each other, isn’t that enough to be ideal?”

  Ella looks at me, wondering how to respond. “It's not always like that, but I can't say you're wrong.” Ella waits for me to agree.

  “It depends on what you call ‘ideal’.”

  Zoe looks at Wally, who nods as if reinforcing my answer. But the girl still seems skeptical.

  “So, if you don’t love your girlfriend, why are you with her?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I never said that.”

  “You did.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  I roll my eyes. “I only said we’re not ideal like people imagine.”

  She stares at me as if solving a great mystery. “So, you’re not an ideal couple because you don’t love each other.”

  “That’s not what it means. We love each other.”

  “Un—huh, sure.” The girl dares to doubt me.

  My cousin gives me an amused look. Zoe just wants to extract some dramatic confession from me.

  Then, out of nowhere, she concludes, “I don’t like her.”

  Ella gives her daughter a discreet nudge and a reproachful look.

  “Good thing you’re not the one dating her,” I snap back, only to be met with Ella’s murderous glare. “You just don’t know her well enough,” I try to be patient. “You’ve only seen her a few times when the whole family was together. You barely talked to her.”

  Zoe crosses her arms, thoughtful.

  The truth is, Zoe is a smart and fun kid. But sometimes, her questions are dangerously sincere — and today, she’s determined to make me trip up.

  “How do you think the festival will be? I’ve never been to a festival like this.” Ella changes the subject, trying to put as much lightness into her voice as possible.

  My cousin tries to cheer up her husband and mask the discomfort left by her daughter's annoying questions by talking nonstop about the plans and how excited she is.

  While Ella and I talk, Wally, lost in thought, responds only with monosyllables or brief comments.

  “A little after the climb. There’s a scenic stop where we can have a snack and enjoy the view.” Ella looks at a tourist map in the backseat with her daughter.

  “What are we going to eat?”

  “Your father has prepared some of those sandwiches.” The girl’s smile widens, momentarily making Wally’s dark eyes soften.

  “Is this where we’re going camping?” I ask. “It’s not too far from where the festival starts tomorrow?”

  “The shows don’t start until around 4 p.m. Before that, it’s just the food trucks and the car show,” Wally explains.

  “The YouTuber is going to sign his cookbook. There’s a camping area further down the road, it’s only an hour from the festival, “Ella suggests.

  “Look, there’s even a table.” The girl points to a small wooden deck on the slope of the mountain.

  Wally pulls over to the small space at the side of the road, which is only one-way.

  “Really nice view,” Ella says, taking Zoe’s hand and walking to the deck.

  Wally heads straight to the trunk and pulls out two small coolers. I run to help him carry one, even though it’s unnecessary — but otherwise, I’d feel useless as a freeloader.

  After taking several photos and setting up the picnic table while the wind threatens to blow everything off the cliff, I finally see Wally take a moment to sit down and eat his sandwich, having just helped Zoe. I watch him, observing the quiet pleasure in his simple happiness.

  But he’s interrupted by the sound of an engine. He puts the untouched sandwich back, stands up, and then examines the small space the vehicle would have to pass between his car and the steep wall of the hill on the other side.

  I’m not sure even an SUV would make it. But then, a small truck made a turn towards us. I recognize the driver — the strange man from the gas station. Without changing his expression or slowing down, he glances at our car.

  Just as he appeared, he disappeared, leaving only the hum of the engine slowly fading into the distance.

  “Wow, he didn’t hesitate. This guy’s got ice in his veins,” Ella comments, returning to her sandwich.

  “Experience. He probably lives in that truck. Knows exactly how big it is, and how to maneuver through the tightest spots,” I say.

  “Must have an important delivery,” Zoe chimes in, happy to be part of the adult conversation.

  “It could be. He didn’t stop for a second, not even to look at such a beautiful view.”

  Or maybe, when he saw me, he didn’t want to stop. Based on how he acted at the gas station, it seemed like he didn’t like me much. He’s probably one of those guys who dislikes me just because his crush is a fan of mine and doesn’t pay attention to him.

  You know what? I’d rather not think that way—it makes me sound arrogant, even in my own mind.

  But honestly, it’s not my fault that some women are blind to the amazing suitors right in front of them. Only because they dream of the characters I play.

  A sudden light flashes across the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder, interrupting our dessert with a start. I knew it — the higher power must’ve gotten pissed at my arrogance.

  “10 seconds,” the girl says, looking at her dad.

  “About 3 kilometers from here,” Wally replies, and she nods wisely, knowing this trick.

  “We better go. The sky is clear, but the wind is really strong, and there’s lightning nearby.”