From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 436: Luna’s Reaction

The curtains were only half drawn.

Morning sat in the room without asking permission, pale light stretching across the floor, stopping just short of the couch where Luna sat. The script on her lap had been open for a while now. Same page. Same line halfway down. Her finger rested against the margin like she’d been about to turn it and forgot why.

The TV was on mute. Faces moved. Headlines slid across the bottom. None of it held.

The knock came once.

Then the door opened before she answered.

Deborah didn’t step in fully at first. Just enough to lean against the frame, phone already in her hand, eyes not on the room but on Luna.

"You’ve seen this yet?"

No greeting. No lead-in.

Luna didn’t move. "Seen what?"

Deborah crossed the rest of the way in. The soft thud of her heels on the floor, deliberate, measured. She held the phone out.

"Just watch."

Luna took it.

Her fingers were steady. That was the first thing.

The video started before she could think about it.

Outside a building. Late evening. Streetlights not fully on yet. The angle was off—too far, slightly tilted—but close enough. People in the background, passing, not paying attention.

Then him.

Dayo.

Even from a distance, there was no mistaking him. The way he stood. The stillness before movement. The slight turn of his head like he was always aware of everything around him.

And the woman in front of him.

Close.

Closer than strangers.

Luna didn’t shift. Didn’t lean in. Didn’t react.

She watched.

The moment came without warning. He pulled her in—quick, natural—and she folded into it like it wasn’t new. Like it had happened before.

The hug lingered.

Then the kiss.

Not long. Not exaggerated. Just enough.

The video cut a second later.

Luna’s thumb hovered over the screen.

She replayed it.

This time slower. Not actually slower the video wasn’t slowed but her eyes moved differently. Picking things out. The angle of his shoulder. The way his hand settled at her back. The tilt of her head.

She paused it just before the kiss.

Zoomed slightly.

The woman’s face didn’t give itself up. Half-shadow. Turned just enough. A shape more than a person.

Luna let the screen sit there a second longer.

Then she let it play through.

Again.

When it ended, she didn’t look up. Just scrolled.

Comments stacked over each other, moving faster than they could be read.

Is that actually him??

No way that’s Dayo.

Pause at 0:07—someone enhance that

Who is she???

He’s never been seen like this before

That’s definitely him, look at the jacket

She looks familiar

Find her.

My crush already has a lover ?

No i refuse to belive this ita Ai

Nope not AI i already checked like 12 times😭😭😭 our JD has someone

No i still refused to believe it until he confirms

Luna kept scrolling.

More noise. More guesses. Names thrown into the air like they meant something just because they were said loudly enough.

Her expression didn’t change.

"Say something," Deborah said.

Luna handed the phone back. "What do you want me to say?"

Deborah didn’t take it immediately. She studied Luna first, like she was waiting for something to crack through.

"That it doesn’t matter," Luna added, when Deborah stayed quiet. "Because it doesn’t."

Deborah took the phone, but her eyes didn’t leave Luna’s face. "That what you’re going with?"

"It’s what it is."

Deborah let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh. "You didn’t even blink."

Luna reached for the script, adjusted it on her lap, even though she wasn’t reading. "I’ve seen worse."

"Yeah," Deborah said. "I know."

Silence stretched for a moment. Not empty. Just... full of things neither of them said.

Luna flipped the page this time. Didn’t look at it.

"This is what he does," she said, almost absent. "It’s not new."

Deborah tilted her head slightly. "Then why do you look like that?"

Luna finally looked up.

"Like what?"

Deborah didn’t answer right away. She stepped further into the room, setting her bag down on the chair by the wall. Took her time with it.

"Like you’re trying not to feel something you already felt before I walked in here."

Luna’s mouth twitched—not quite a smile. "You’re reading too much into it."

"No," Deborah said. "I’m not."

Luna looked away first. Back to the script. The words blurred again.

"It’s a video," she said. "That’s it."

Deborah’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. "It’s him."

"I know it’s him."

"And it’s not just some rumor or headline you can ignore. It’s right there."

Luna’s fingers tightened slightly on the paper. "And?"

"And you’re sitting here pretending it doesn’t touch you."

Luna exhaled through her nose. Slow. Controlled.

"I’m not pretending anything," she said. "I’m just not surprised."

Deborah stepped closer, stopping just short of the couch. "There’s a difference."

Luna didn’t respond.

Deborah watched her for another second, then spoke again, quieter now.

"You left because of this."

That landed.

Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just... there.

Luna’s gaze dropped to the script again, but she wasn’t seeing it.

"I left because I was tired," she said.

"Of what?"

"Of the cycle." The words came out flat, like they’d been said too many times already. "Of wondering. Of finding out after. Of him saying it didn’t mean anything and then doing it again."

Deborah nodded slowly. "And before you left?"

Luna’s jaw shifted slightly. "What about it?"

"He stopped."

Luna didn’t answer.

Deborah didn’t let it go.

"You told me that yourself."

Luna shook her head once. "For a while."

"For as long as you were there."

Luna’s eyes lifted again, sharper this time. "And then I wasn’t."

"Because you walked away."

"Because I had to."

Deborah held her gaze. "Or because you thought you did."

Silence again.

This one heavier.

Luna leaned back slightly, the couch pressing into her shoulders. "You’re not about to turn this into something it wasn’t."

"I’m not turning it into anything," Deborah said. "I’m reminding you of what you already know."

Luna let out a short breath, almost a laugh but without humor. "What I know is that he doesn’t change."

Deborah’s expression didn’t shift. "He didn’t stop because he got bored. He stopped because he chose you."

Luna looked away.

"He always had people around," Deborah continued. "Options. That didn’t disappear when you showed up. He just—closed them."

"For a while," Luna repeated.

"For you."

The words hung there.

Luna’s grip on the script loosened, then tightened again.

"And the moment I wasn’t enough—"

"That’s not what happened."

Luna’s head snapped slightly, just enough to show the crack. "Then what did?"

Deborah didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t rush.

"You confronted him about something that hadn’t even happened yet."

Luna’s eyes narrowed. "Alice had feelings for him."

"And he didn’t act on it."

"He didn’t tell me."

"He didn’t know how to handle it without losing you," Deborah said. "And you didn’t give him time to figure it out."

Luna shook her head again, but slower now. Less certain. "I asked for space."

"And he gave it to you."

"And then everything fell apart."

Deborah’s gaze softened, just a fraction. "Because neither of you knew what to do with that space."

A sound broke through the room.

Soft. Small.

From the other side of the door.

Luna’s head turned immediately.

It came again—more of a restless shift than a cry.

She was already on her feet before thinking.

The script slid off her lap onto the couch.

Deborah stepped back, giving her space as Luna moved past her and toward the door.

The nursery was dimmer. Curtains drawn tighter. The air cooler.

Jennifer lay in the crib, blanket kicked halfway off, small hands curled near her face. Her eyes were open, unfocused, blinking slowly at nothing in particular.

Luna stepped closer, her movements instinctive now.

"Hey," she murmured, voice softer than anything she’d said in the other room.

She adjusted the blanket, tucking it gently around the baby’s legs. Jennifer shifted, making a small sound, her fingers brushing against Luna’s wrist.

Luna slid her hand under her, lifting her carefully.

The weight settled against her chest.

Warm. Real.

Jennifer’s head rested just below her collarbone, breath soft and uneven in that way babies had, like they were still learning the rhythm.

Luna swayed slightly without thinking. Back and forth. A slow, steady motion.

Deborah leaned against the doorway, watching quietly.

The room felt different in here.

Smaller. Closer.

Luna brushed her thumb lightly along Jennifer’s arm, tracing nothing in particular.

"She woke up early," she said, almost to herself.

Deborah nodded once. "She’s probably just restless."

Luna didn’t look at her. Just kept her focus on the baby.

Jennifer’s eyes drifted, half-closing again.

"This isn’t just you anymore," Deborah said after a moment.

Luna’s movement slowed.

She didn’t respond.

"She’s going to grow up," Deborah continued. "She’s going to ask questions. She’s going to want to know where she comes from. Who she comes from."

Luna’s hand stilled briefly against Jennifer’s back.

"She deserves more than headlines and guesses," Deborah said. "More than clips on a screen."

Luna’s jaw tightened slightly. "And what? I just walk back into that?"

"I didn’t say that."

"It sounds like it."

"It sounds like you’re scared of what happens if you don’t."

Luna looked down at Jennifer, her expression unreadable.

"He hasn’t changed," she said, quieter now. "That video—"

"That video shows he’s living his life," Deborah cut in gently. "You’re not in it right now."

The words landed harder than the others.

"You left," Deborah added. "He didn’t."

Luna swallowed. Her throat felt tight all of a sudden.

"You don’t get to hold him to something you walked away from."

Luna’s grip shifted slightly, pulling Jennifer closer.

"She doesn’t have that choice," Deborah said, nodding toward the baby. "She doesn’t get to walk away from who her father is. Or what he could be to her."

Luna closed her eyes briefly.

Just a second.

When she opened them again, they were steady.

"If you’re not going to do this for yourself," Deborah said, softer now, "do it for her."

No response.

Just the quiet sound of Jennifer’s breathing.

Luna stood there a little longer. Then she leaned down, placing the baby back in the crib with careful hands.

Jennifer stirred, then settled again.

Luna adjusted the blanket once more, smoothing it down like it mattered more than it did.

When she straightened, Deborah was still there.

Waiting.

Not pushing anymore.

Luna walked past her without speaking.

Back into the living room.

The phone was still on the table.

Screen dark.

She picked it up.

For a second, she just held it.

Then she unlocked it.

The video opened again.

She didn’t watch the whole thing this time.

Just enough.

Her eyes didn’t go to the kiss.

They stayed on him.

The way he stood. The way he moved. The familiarity of it settling somewhere deep, somewhere she’d tried not to touch in a while.

She let the video end.

Locked the phone.

Set it down.

No speech. No announcement.

She turned toward the hallway instead.

"Deborah," she said.

Deborah straightened slightly. "Yeah?"

"I need to check something."

Deborah watched her for a second, then nodded. "Alright."

Luna disappeared down the hall.

The room went quiet again.

The air in the training space was thicker.

Warmer.

It carried the smell of rubber mats and sweat, the faint echo of movement still bouncing off the walls.

Dayo moved through it like it belonged to him.

Controlled.

Measured.

Every step placed exactly where it needed to be.

"Again," Matthew said.

Dayo reset without hesitation.

Back to position.

Breath in. Out.

Then movement.

Sharp. Clean. No wasted motion.

Matthew watched closely, arms folded, eyes tracking everything.

"Your timing’s late on the second shift," he said as Dayo stopped. "You’re hesitating."

Dayo shook his head once. "I’m not hesitating."

"You are," Matthew replied. "You’re thinking before you move."

Dayo wiped his hand across the back of his neck, sweat catching the light. "I’m adjusting."

"Adjustment doesn’t slow you down. It refines you."

Dayo exhaled, steadying himself. "Run it again."

Matthew nodded. "Focus on the transition. Don’t break the flow."

Dayo set himself again.

This time faster.

Cleaner.

The movement snapped into place, one motion feeding into the next without pause.

Matthew’s head tilted slightly. "Better."

Dayo rolled his shoulders once, tension loosening. "It’ll hold."

"It needs to," Matthew said. "You don’t get a second chance out there."

Dayo didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

His focus was already locked back in.

Everything else fell away.

His phone vibrated against the bench.

Once.

Then again.

Dayo ignored it the first time.

Finished the set.

Stepped back.

The vibration came again.

Persistent.

He reached for it this time, glancing at the screen.

His assistant.

He answered.

"Yeah."