Joel Miller had done a lot for his daughter over the years. Late-night school projects, soccer tournaments in the rain, driving across Texas for some rare vinyl drop. He’d built treehouses, fixed broken hearts with pizza and movie nights, and once even learned how to braid hair because YouTube said it’d help.

But this?

This took the goddamn cake.

This was the kind of thing that, in another life, would’ve been her mother’s job. The screaming concerts, the outfit meltdowns, the hours spent memorizing lyrics to songs he didn’t care about. But she wasn’t here—hadn’t been for a long time.

So, it fell on him.

Hundreds of dollars. That’s what he’d forked over for this so-called “once-in-a-lifetime” VIP concert experience. Front row seats, a backstage meet-and-greet, early entry, laminated lanyards that probably cost $2 to make but somehow added $150 to the ticket price.

And now, here he was. Arms crossed, ears ringing, surrounded by glitter-covered teenagers and the scent of overpriced popcorn and body spray. Sarah practically vibrated beside him like a human tuning fork.

“Dad, oh my God,” she gushed, clutching his sleeve with one hand and her phone with the other, already recording for Instagram. “We’re so close. What if they make eye contact with me? Like, actual eye contact?”

Joel exhaled, casting a skeptical look at the stage where your face loomed ten feet high on a screen, mid–sound check. “Yeah, real life-changing moment right there,” he deadpanned.

Sarah elbowed him in the ribs—gently, but with purpose. “You don’t get it,” she groaned, eyes rolling with dramatic teenage flair. “They’re my absolute favorite artist of all time.”

Oh, he got it. He got it every time she blasted your songs from her room, every time she made him sit through your music videos, every time she changed outfits three times “because what if they see me, Dad?”

Joel didn’t think he’d ever spent this much money just to watch his daughter sob to a love song sung by someone she’d never meet. But then again… she was beaming. Absolutely glowing. If this was what happiness looked like on her, then hell, he’d do it all over again.

Then the lights dimmed.

An earth-shaking roar erupted from the crowd, thousands of voices screaming at once, like a wave crashing against the walls of the arena. Sarah jumped, her eyes wide, hands clasped to her chest. And then—there you were.

Stepping onto the stage like you owned the world. Confident. Powerful. Charismatic in a way that couldn’t be taught. And Joel had to admit, even if your music wasn’t his thing, you were damn good. The kind of performer that made it feel like you were singing just to one person in the crowd.

And maybe that’s why, for a second, he thought you did look right at him.

After the show, Sarah’s cheeks were still damp from crying, her eyeliner smudged, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Best night of my life,” she whispered as they were escorted backstage. “Dad, I’m gonna die.”

“Please don’t,” Joel muttered. “At least not before we get your picture.”

The meet-and-greet was a blur of fluorescent lights, security staff, and excited fans fumbling with their phones. Then it was their turn. Sarah rushed forward, stammering through her words as you smiled warmly, taking her hand and listening like she was the only person in the room.

“Thank you for being here,” you told her. “You look awesome, by the way.”

Joel stepped back, letting her have the moment. Then, your eyes landed on him.

And stuck.

There was a beat of silence. You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You her dad?”

Joel cleared his throat, nodding. “Guilty.”

You looked him up and down, amused. “Didn’t peg you for the concert type.”

He shrugged. “Ain’t. Just here for her.”

“Well,” you said, stepping closer, “thanks for being a cool dad. Not every parent would sit through a show like that.”

Joel gave a soft chuckle. “Wasn’t so bad. You’re… good at what you do.”

Your smile turned coy. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbled