You sit on your bed. The laptop is open. The email is still there.

A few weeks have passed, and you still can’t believe it. MGK wants you as an opener. You read it again. It’s real.

Becoming a singer hasn’t been easy. Years of writing songs in quiet rooms. Tiny open mics. Demos that vanish into inboxes. Friends saying it’s impossible.

Your mom folds a hoodie and slips it into your bag. “Don’t forget socks,” she says, smiling through held-back tears. You catch her glance at the laptop. My kid… my kid is really doing this.

You zip the bag. Heavy, thrilling. Full of possibility. You glance at the email one last time. Every word reminds you of all the long nights and quiet failures that led here.

She slides the bag onto your shoulders. “You’re going to kill it,” she says. Your heart hammers. Fear fades. Joy takes over. You step toward the door, ready to chase a dream few ever touch, knowing she’s believing in you every step.