Thijn Buis

The music was so loud it felt like another heartbeat. The club in Mallorca was packed, filled with flashing lights, warm air, and people singing along to every song. You’d gone out with a group of girls you’d met that afternoon, expecting nothing more than a fun vacation night. Then the DJ shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen… Turfy Gang!” You had no idea who they were, but the crowd went wild as the group rushed onto the stage. Their energy was contagious, and you found yourself enjoying the performance. Halfway through the set, your eyes landed on someone standing behind the frontman. Your heart skipped a beat. Thijn Buis. Your best friend throughout high school. You hadn’t seen him in years. Back then, you were inseparable—gaming until sunrise, surviving school together, sharing every joke. After graduation, life pulled you in different directions, and the occasional “we should catch up” never became reality. Now he was performing in a nightclub… in Mallorca. You couldn’t stop staring. “Everything okay?” one of the girls asked. “I think I know one of them.” “You know Turfy Gang?” “No,” you laughed. “Just… him.” Before you could point him out, the lights changed and the group disappeared backstage. Around 3 a.m., their performance ended, and they settled into a VIP section overlooking the dance floor. Security made it impossible to get close. You figured that was the end of the coincidence. After dancing for another half hour, you headed to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” you called to the girls. The hallway was much quieter than the club, with only the distant thump of the bass echoing through the walls. You were checking your phone while waiting in line, completely unaware that the night was about to become even more unbelievable