His mate and his ruin

CHAPTER TWO

For a long moment, I just stared at the small box sitting on my desk.

It was wrapped in gold paper that shimmered faintly under the warm glow of my bedside lamp, the kind of wrapping my mom used for special occasions simple, elegant, a little bit teasing. My fingers hovered above it, heart thudding like it already knew what was waiting inside.

“Okay,” I whispered, exhaling slowly.

“What are you hiding?”

The ribbon slid free with a soft hiss, and I lifted the lid.

Inside were three rectangular slips of glossy paper.

At first, my brain didn’t process what I was seeing just a blur of dark blue and silver printing. Then my eyes caught the bold logo at the top.

The Lunasons Live in Concert.

My breath hitched. My pulse stumbled, then raced.

“Oh. My. God.”

For a heartbeat, the world went silent. Then everything in me exploded into motion. I jumped to my feet, the tickets clutched tight in my hand, and sprinted out of my room.

“Mom! Dad!”

Their laughter carried faintly from the balcony. I followed the sound, nearly tripping over the rug in my rush.

When I burst through the sliding glass doors, the evening air wrapped around me cool, scented with jasmine from the garden below. My parents sat side by side on the outdoor sofa, glasses of wine in hand, looking far too calm for what they’d just done.

“You— you didn’t—” I gasped, waving the tickets like proof of a miracle. “You actually got them!”

Dad smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching. “We were wondering how long it’d take you.”

I practically threw myself at them, the tickets still crushed in my fist. “You got Lunasons tickets! Three of them!”

Mom laughed, pulling me into her arms. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

I hugged her tight, emotion spilling over before I could stop it. The tears came suddenly, hot and overwhelming a rush of joy that tangled with disbelief.

“You guys ?how? They were sold out in ten minutes!” I pulled back just enough to look at them, my voice catching.

Dad looked smug. “Let’s just say your mom knows how to make things happen .”

Mom arched a brow. “Networking has its perks.”

I laughed through my tears, brushing them off with my sleeve. “This is insane. You don’t even like concerts!”

“True,” Mom said, “but we do like seeing you smile like this.”

That made something in my chest ache in the best way. I sank down beside them, tucking my knees under me. The city lights shimmered beyond the balcony railing, painting the sky in soft gold.

“So we’re flying there tomorrow morning?” I asked, still clutching the tickets like they might vanish if I let go.

Mom and Dad exchanged a look that kind of silent conversation they always had. Then Mom turned back to me, her smile full of mischief.

“Actually, we’re driving.”

I blinked. “Driving? As in… road trip?”

Dad lifted his glass. “As in quality time, scenic routes, and at least five hours of your mom’s playlist.”

She swatted his arm, laughing. “It’s called bonding, thank you very much.”

I covered my mouth, half laughing, half in shock. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Mom said.

“We thought it’d be nice to make it a family trip. Just us, no flights, no rush, no distractions. Memories you’ll remember long after the concert ends.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The weight of her words, the softness in them filled my throat like sunlight. I felt so full I could barely breathe.

“I— I love you guys so much,” I managed to whisper.

Dad grinned. “We know. But keep saying it, it’s good for my ego.”

I laughed again, that breathless, heart-clutching kind of laugh that came when life felt too good to be real.

Mom reached over, brushing a curl from my face. “You’ll always be our little girl, Tavi. Even when you’re eighty and lecturing your own kids about sunscreen.”

“Mom!” I groaned, though my cheeks ached from smiling.

She just chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “Go on now. You should tell Zara before she explodes from not knowing.”

That was all the permission I needed.

I shot up from the sofa and darted back inside, my socks sliding over the marble as I sprinted toward my phone. My hands shook as I dialed.

Zara picked up on the first ring. “Tavi! Did you open it yet? What was in the box? Tell me it’s not jewelry—”

“It’s better,” I blurted. “Three Lunasons tickets!”

For a second, the line went dead silent. Then she screamed. “NO WAY!”

“I’m serious!”

“SHUT UP!”

“I CAN’T!” I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. “They’re coming with me”

I could practically hear her bouncing on her bed through the phone. “Tavi, I’m going to pass out. You’re joking. You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not joking! we’re going. Tomorrow ”

“Oh my God,” she squealed. “You’re the luckiest person alive. The literal best.”

“Tell that to my parents. They planned everything!”

“Tell them I said they’re saints,” she said breathlessly. “Wait, when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re driving like, full-on road trip style.”

There was a pause, then, “Your mom agreed to that?”

“She suggested it.”

“Unbelievable,” Zara said, half in awe. “You have the most wholesome parents in existence.”

“I know.” My voice softened. “They’re the best.”

We stayed on the phone another half hour gushing, planning outfits, arguing about which Lunason song to scream first. By the time we hung up, my face hurt from smiling.

The rest of the evening passed in a golden blur.

I pulled my suitcase from the closet and tossed it onto the bed, humming as I packed clothes folded neatly, chargers and makeup bag tucked beside them. The room filled with small, comforting sounds: drawers sliding shut, zippers zipping, the soft thud of shoes landing on the floor.

Outside, the sky deepened into velvet blue. From the balcony, faint laughter drifted from my parents, still talking quietly under the fairy lights.

For a moment, I paused by the window, watching them.

Mom’s head rested on Dad’s shoulder, his hand covering hers. Their silhouettes glowed in the warm light steady, familiar, and so full of love it almost hurt to look at.

My throat tightened again, that same overwhelming tenderness blooming in my chest.

I’d seen a lot of families that barely spoke, that existed side by side without ever really touching. But mine wasn’t like that. We were messy sometimes, dramatic often but love ran through every word, every glance, every unspoken thing.

I turned back to my half-packed bag, still smiling.

When I finally lay down that night, the tickets rested on my nightstand, gleaming softly in the dark.

My heart thrummed with the rhythm of excitement not just for the concert, but for everything that came with it.

Tomorrow, we'll hit the road.

Tomorrow, life would taste like freedom, laughter, and music echoing through open skies.

And as sleep pulled me under, one thought lingered, warm and sure

For now, my world was perfect.