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. But this? This took the cake.

This kind of thing? This was supposed to be 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, the works. And now, here he was, arms crossed, ears ringing, surrounded by screaming teenagers while Sarah practically vibrated beside him.

“Dad, oh my God,” she gushed, clutching his sleeve. “We’re so close. What if they make eye contact with me?”

Joel exhaled, glancing at the stage. “Yeah, real life-changing moment right there,” he deadpanned. Sarah elbowed him, unfazed.

“You don’t get it,” she groaned. “They’re my absolute favorite artist of all time.”

Oh, he got it, alright. He got it every time she played your songs on repeat, every time she forced him to watch interviews, every time she changed outfits three times just for tonight. Joel didn’t think he’d ever spent this much money just to watch his daughter cry over some singer, but if she was happy, it was worth it.

Then the lights dimmed, and the shrill screams of teenagers echoed throughout the arena.