From A Producer To A Global Superstar

Chapter 457: Meeting Jennifer.

Dayo nodded, turning his hand to squeeze hers briefly. "I will."

He stood up from the table, the conversation settling into something quieter behind him as he walked to the entryway. Jeffrey called out something about being there if he needed to talk, and Janet muttered about buying gifts for the baby already, and his parents’ voices dropped into the low, private register they used when discussing important things.

But Dayo was already moving, his keys in his hand, his mind narrowing to a single point. The address Luna had sent him. The time. The door he was about to walk through.

The drive felt longer than it was. He took the route carefully, not rushing, not delaying. Just moving with purpose. When he pulled up to the building, he sat in the car for a moment, looking at the facade, the windows, the ordinary exterior of a place that was about to become one of the most significant locations of his life.

His hands were shaking.

He noticed it when he reached for the door handle. A slight tremor in his fingers, barely visible but unmistakable. He was never nervous. Not before competitions, not before performances, not before meetings that could change the course of his career. But this was different. This wasn’t about him. This was about her. About Jennifer. About walking into a room and meeting the small person who shared his blood without ever knowing his name.

He got out of the car and walked to the entrance. Pressed the buzzer. Waited.

The door opened, and Amanda stood there.

She looked the same as he remembered, maybe slightly more tired around the eyes, but her posture was straight and her gaze was immediate. She took him in with a single sweep, head to toe, and something shifted in her expression when she noticed his hands still trembling slightly at his sides.

"Dayo," she said. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either. It was measured.

"Amanda. Thank you for having me."

She stepped aside to let him in. "Come in."

The apartment was clean and simple, lived-in but not cluttered. Soft morning light filtered through the windows, casting everything in a pale gold. Dayo walked in and stood in the center of the living room, suddenly aware of how loud his breathing sounded in the quiet space.

"How is she?" he asked, though he wasn’t sure if he meant Luna or Jennifer or both.

"She’s good," Amanda said. "Jennifer, I mean. She’s been fed, she’s clean, she’s in a good mood. That’s the best you can hope for with a five-month-old."

Dayo nodded, absorbing the information like it was critical data. "And Luna?"

"Nervous," Amanda said honestly. "But she’s ready. She’s been ready since last night."

Amanda studied him for a moment longer, and he could see the calculation in her eyes. She had always been Luna’s protector, the person who stood between her and the world when things got complicated. He respected that. He had never tried to use their friendship to get information about Luna. He had always kept that boundary clean.

"You look different," Amanda said quietly.

"How?"

"I’ve seen you perform in front of thousands. I’ve seen you give interviews, handle crises, walk into rooms like you owned them. You never looked like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you’re not sure if you’re enough."

The observation landed cleanly, finding its target without resistance. Dayo didn’t try to deny it. He just nodded slowly, accepting the truth of it.

"I’m not sure if I am," he said. "But I’m here anyway."

Amanda held his gaze for a long moment. Then something in her face softened, just slightly. Not fully. But enough.

"Wait here," she said, turning toward the hallway. "I’ll get them."

Dayo stood in the living room alone, his hands clasped in front of him to keep them from shaking. He heard movement from the back of the apartment, soft voices, the kind of domestic sounds that he had never been part of. Then footsteps approaching.

Luna walked in first.

She was wearing something simple, comfortable, her hair pulled back in a way that made her look younger than she was. She was holding Jennifer in her arms, cradling her with the kind of effortless intimacy that came from months of practice.

Dayo’s breath caught.

He had seen the photo. He had prepared himself. But nothing could have readied him for the reality of them standing there together, mother and child, a unit that had existed for five months without him ever knowing about it.

"Hi," Luna said softly.

"Hi." His voice came out rougher than intended.

Luna took a few steps closer, and Jennifer came into full view. She was small, wrapped in something soft and pale, her dark eyes wide and alert. She was looking at him. Not at the room, not at her mother. At him.

"Dayo," Luna said, her voice gentle, "this is Jennifer."

"I know." He swallowed, trying to find more words and failing. "She’s... she’s beautiful, Luna."

"Thank you."

Luna looked down at her daughter, then back up at Dayo. There was a question in her eyes, one she didn’t need to voice.

"Do you want to hold her?"

Dayo’s heart stuttered. He had researched it last night, how to hold a baby, how to support the head, the neck, all the technical details. But now, faced with the actual moment, all of that knowledge felt inadequate.

"Is it... is it okay?"

"It’s okay." Luna stepped closer, positioning Jennifer to be transferred. "Support her head. Like this."

She demonstrated, and Dayo mirrored the motion with hands that felt too large, too clumsy, too rough for something this delicate. But then Jennifer was in his arms, warm and solid and impossibly light, and everything else stopped.

She was real.

She was really real.

Her eyes were dark and observant, moving across his face with a focus that felt almost adult. She didn’t cry. She didn’t fuss. She just looked at him, taking him in, her tiny features arranged in an expression of serious evaluation.

"Hey," Dayo whispered. "Hey, Jennifer. I’m... I’m your dad."

The word felt enormous in his mouth. Foreign and natural at the same time. He adjusted his hold slightly, settling her more securely against his chest, and she shifted with him, her small body fitting into the curve of his arm like it belonged there.

Then she reached up.

Her hand was so small he could barely feel it, but he did. Her fingers touched his cheek, patting gently, exploring. Then they moved to his jaw, his chin, tracing the lines of his face with a curiosity that made his eyes burn.

"She’s touching me," he said, his voice barely audible.

"She likes faces," Luna said from beside him. "She does that with people she’s comfortable with."

Dayo looked at Luna, something cracking open in his chest. "She’s comfortable with me?"

"She hasn’t cried," Luna said, a small smile touching her lips. "That’s a good sign."

Jennifer’s fingers found his hair then, wrapping around a strand and tugging gently. Not hard. Just testing. Her eyes stayed locked on his, wide and dark and unmistakably his. He could see it now. The shape of her eyes, the set of her jaw, the way she observed before reacting. She was Luna’s daughter in many ways, but she was also his.

"You’re so small," he whispered to her. "I didn’t know you’d be this small."

Jennifer made a sound, not quite a coo, more like a verbal acknowledgment. As if she understood exactly what he meant and was agreeing with him.

Dayo laughed. It came out soft and surprised, the kind of sound he didn’t make often. He looked down at the tiny hand still wrapped in his hair, at the face that was studying him with such intensity, and he felt it. The shift. The moment when something theoretical became something absolute.

He was a father.

This was his daughter.

And she was looking at him like he was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

From the corner of the room, Luna and Amanda watched in silence. They had stepped back without him noticing, giving him space, giving Jennifer space. Luna’s arms were folded loosely across her chest, her expression a mixture of anxiety and something softer. Relief, maybe. Or hope.

Dayo didn’t try to be perfect. He didn’t try to perform or control the moment. He just stood there, holding his daughter, letting her explore his face with her tiny hands, letting her get used to his voice as he whispered things to her that didn’t need to make sense to anyone else.

"You’re going to be trouble," he told her softly. "I can already tell. You have that look. The same one your mom gives me when she thinks I’m wrong about something."

Jennifer blinked at him, her expression unchanging.

"Yeah," Dayo said, smiling. "Exactly like that."

Luna laughed. It was quiet, just a breath of sound, but it filled the room. Amanda smiled too, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she watched the scene unfold.

The morning light shifted, moving across the floor in slow patterns. Dayo continued to hold Jennifer, adjusting when she squirmed, talking to her in the low, steady voice that seemed to keep her calm. She yawned at one point, her small mouth opening wide, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again with renewed interest.

"She’s fighting sleep," Luna said, stepping closer. "She does that. Doesn’t want to miss anything."

"Sounds familiar," Dayo said, looking up at her.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the complicated history between them thinned. They weren’t ex-lovers with baggage. They weren’t two people who had hurt each other and kept secrets. They were just two parents, standing in a room with their daughter, sharing a moment that belonged only to them.

"You can come sit down," Amanda said, gesturing toward the couch. "No need to stand there like you’re holding a bomb."

Dayo carried Jennifer to the couch and sat down carefully, keeping her cradled against his chest. Luna sat beside him, close enough to help if needed, but not so close that it felt forced. Amanda disappeared into the kitchen, giving them space, though Dayo knew she was still within earshot.

He looked down at Jennifer, who was now playing with the buttons on his shirt, her small fingers working with fierce concentration. She seemed completely content, as if being held by a man she had never met was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thank you," Dayo said quietly, not looking up from her. "For letting me do this. For giving me this chance."

Luna was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft but clear. "She deserves to know you. I didn’t know if you wanted to know her. Now I do. That’s enough for now."

Dayo nodded, understanding the boundary she was setting. This wasn’t forgiveness. This wasn’t resolution. This was just the beginning, a single step on a long road.

But it was a real step. And right now, with his daughter in his arms and her mother’s voice beside him, that felt like everything.

Jennifer yawned again, bigger this time, her eyes staying closed for several seconds. Dayo adjusted his hold, supporting her head the way Luna had shown him, and she settled into his chest with a small sound of contentment.

"She’s going to sleep," Luna said.

"Should I...?"

"Just hold her. Let her fall asleep. You can stay as long as you want."

Dayo looked down at the small face pressed against his chest, at the tiny hand that had curled into a fist against his shirt, and he felt something settle inside him. Something that had been restless and searching for months, maybe years, finally finding its place.

He was a father.

And for the first time, that word didn’t feel like a responsibility he had to earn. It felt like a truth he was finally living.

He sat there, holding his daughter, and let the morning unfold around them. Quiet, ordinary, and more significant than anything he had ever done.