Author: Joe Canuck

Nelly looks down, guilty but curious, as Joe tells the story.

Joe: “After you sabotaged my marriage to the Milanović deal, Vince McMahon calls me up. Says he’s got a gimmick for me — a wrestling superstar named PUKE. Said I’d be the next big thing if I could just, you know… vomit on cue.”

Nelly stifles a laugh.

Nelly: “You? The man who can’t even burp after a beer?”

Joe: “Exactly. I tried, Nelly. I gave it everything. Guzzled protein shakes, spun in circles before matches, even swallowed raw eggs. But when the cameras rolled—nothing. Not a drop.”

Nelly: “So they fired you?”

Joe: “Vince said I had ‘the look of a star but the stomach of a saint.’”

Nelly laughs through her shame, shaking her head.

Nelly: “Guess God didn’t want you to puke on national TV.”

Joe: “No… He wanted me to clean up everyone else’s mess instead.”

Nelly takes a deep breath, her laughter fading into something softer — regretful. The backstage noise from Joe’s old wrestling tapes flickers on a nearby screen, echoes of a dream gone sideways.

Nelly: “Joe… I’m sorry.”

Joe crosses his arms, not sure if he wants to hear it.

Joe: “Sorry for what, Nelly? For torpedoing my deal? For sending those rumors to Zagreb? For making me a laughing stock in front of Vince freakin’ McMahon?”

She looks him straight in the eyes. No excuses, just truth.

Nelly: “I sabotaged you because I didn’t want you to end up like them — the TV people. The fake ones. The ones who sell out their souls for a few camera flashes and a tagline.”

Joe blinks, caught between anger and disbelief.

Joe: “You mean the ones you used to perform with?”

She nods slowly.

Nelly: “Exactly. I’ve seen what it does to people. The lights, the applause — it’s poison. They stop being real. They start thinking followers are friends, and money is love. I didn’t want that for you.”

Joe leans back, his tone softening just a little.

Joe: “So you torched my shot to save me from fame?”

Nelly: “Because people on TV aren’t cool anymore, Joe. They’re puppets. Clowns in LED suits. The real cool people are the ones who walk away from the stage — who stay human.”

He looks at her, realizing there’s pain behind her logic.

Joe: “You could’ve just told me that.”

Nelly: “Would you have listened?”

Joe doesn’t answer. The silence stretches, heavy but honest.

Nelly’s eyes glisten — the weight of twenty-five years finally pressing through her proud exterior. The lights hum above them, the air between them thick with all the words they never said since “Legend.”

Joe: “You know, Nelly… that song ruined me.”

Nelly: “I know.” She whispers it, voice cracking. “I thought I was saving you, but I was just scared you’d become bigger than me.”

Joe: “You already were. You didn’t need to cut my wings.”

Tears roll down her cheeks.

Nelly: “I kept telling myself I did the right thing. But every year that passed, every empty award show, every fake smile… it just reminded me that I’d betrayed the only person who ever believed in me.”

Joe steps closer, his voice calm, almost fatherly now.

Joe: “I forgave you a long time ago, Nelly. I just didn’t know how to say it. The pain, the loneliness — it built me. It made me real. You can’t fake twenty-five years in the desert.”

She looks up, trembling.

Nelly: “You mean that?”

Joe: “Yeah. I don’t want revenge. I don’t want a stage. I just want peace — and maybe a little truth. Because that’s what makes someone a legend. Not fame. Not applause. Forgiveness.”

Nelly lets out a shaky laugh through the tears.

Nelly: “You’re still the coolest guy I ever knew, Joe.”

Joe: “Nah,” he smiles faintly, “the cool ones forgive.”

Joe Jukic: Nelly, listen… it’s okay to be a little obsessed when the feeling is mutual. When the person loves you back, that obsession becomes devotion. That’s not unhealthy—it’s just love.

Nelly: [smiling nervously] So you’re saying it’s not crazy if I think about you all the time?

Joe Jukic: Not crazy at all. What would be crazy is if I didn’t feel the same way. But I do. I’ve felt it from the start.

Nelly: [softly] You… you love me too?

Joe Jukic: [nods] Yes. And I want to make that very clear—my love for you goes both ways. You’re not chasing shadows here. You don’t need to doubt it.

Nelly: Then why did you bring up Potiphar’s wife?

Joe Jukic: Because love has to be honest. Potiphar’s wife tried to steal Joseph into sin. She wanted something that wasn’t hers, and when she couldn’t have it, she destroyed him. That’s not love, that’s desire poisoned by pride. I won’t let what we have become that kind of story.

Nelly: [teasing] So what you’re saying is… I should’ve just asked you out like a normal girl?

Joe Jukic: Exactly. No games, no tests, no nonsense. Just you and me, face to face. That’s the only way love works.

Nelly: [playfully nudges him] You make it sound so simple.

Joe Jukic: It is simple. You love me. I love you. That’s enough. No Paulo Coelho novels to romanticize it, no temptation drama to complicate it. Just us, being honest.

Nelly: [soft smile, eyes shining] Then… Joe, will you go on a date with me?

Joe Jukic: [grins] Finally! Yes, Nelly. A thousand times yes.

They both laugh, relief and warmth in the air, as if something heavy has lifted.