From A Producer To A Global Superstar

Chapter 460: Abishola Wants To Move In ?

The morning arrived earlier than usual, heralded not by sunlight but by the sound of the doorbell.

Luna was still in her sleep clothes, Jennifer nestled against her shoulder, when she peered through the peephole and saw Abishola standing in the hallway with two large bags and the kind of determined posture that suggested she had not come for a short visit. Behind her, Jason carried a third bag, his expression calm and resigned, the look of a man who had learned not to question his wife when she set her mind to something.

Luna opened the door, and Abishola stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her eyes immediately scanning the apartment with the practiced assessment of someone who had raised four children and knew exactly what a household needed.

"Good morning, Luna," Abishola said, setting her bags down with a soft thud. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, Ma. Thank you."

"Good." Abishola turned to face her, and her expression softened into something warm and maternal. "Because I am staying."

Luna blinked. "Staying?"

"For the week. Maybe longer. We will see." Abishola reached out and gently took Jennifer from Luna’s arms, cradling her with the ease of long practice. "You have been doing this alone for too long. It is time you had help. Real help. Not just Amanda, though God bless her, she has been wonderful. But a grandmother’s help. That is different."

Jason stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and offered Luna a small, apologetic smile. "She decided last night. There was no stopping her this is how Yoruba do their things."

He said the last part slowly and low so only Luna would hear.

"I do not need to be stopped," Abishola said, already moving toward the kitchen. "I need to be useful. Luna, go and change. You are still in your sleep clothes. Jason, put those bags in the corner. The blue one has clothes. The red one has food. The green one..." She paused, looking down at Jennifer, who was gazing up at her with solemn curiosity. "The green one has gifts."

Luna stood frozen for a moment, watching Abishola settle into her kitchen like she had lived there for years, opening cabinets and assessing their contents with a critical eye. There was something surreal about it, this woman who had always been kind to her but had also always maintained a certain distance, now treating Luna’s apartment like an extension of her own home.

She went to change, moving on autopilot, and when she returned, Abishola had already rearranged half the kitchen.

"The spices are in the wrong places," Abishola announced, not looking up from the stove where she was heating water. "You need them near the stove, not across the room. When the baby is crying and the food is burning, you will thank me for this."

"You don’t have to do all this, Ma," Luna said, though the words felt weak even as she spoke them.

"I know I do not have to." Abishola finally looked up, and her eyes were steady and kind. "I want to. You are the mother of my granddaughter. That makes you family. And family does not do things because they have to. They do things because they want to."

The doorbell rang again before Luna could respond.

This time it was Janet, and she did not arrive empty-handed. She entered the apartment with three large bags of her own, her face bright with excitement, her voice carrying before she even crossed the threshold.

"Where is she? Where is my niece? I brought her things. I brought her so many things."

Jeffrey followed behind her, his arms full of a stuffed animal that was almost as large as Jennifer herself, his expression caught between amusement and exhaustion.

"She made me carry this all the way from the car," he said, depositing the giant bear in the corner of the living room. "She said every baby needs a bear. I tried to tell her the baby is five months old and probably does not care about bears, but she would not listen."

"Every baby needs a bear," Janet repeated firmly, pushing past him. "It’s a fact. Scientific." She spotted Abishola holding Jennifer and her face lit up even further. "Oh my God. Mom, let me hold her. Please. Just for a minute."

"You just arrived," Abishola said, though there was fondness in her voice. "Sit down first. Catch your breath. You are bouncing around like a child yourself, Also make sure you wash your hands can’t have you toucher carelessly."

"I am an aunty now. I have a right to bounce and i have washed my hands." But Janet sat, perching on the edge of the couch, her eyes fixed on Jennifer with an intensity that was almost comical. "Look at her. She’s so alert. She’s looking at everything."

"She’s trying to figure out who all these loud people are," Luna said, and was surprised to find herself smiling. The apartment, which had been quiet for so long, just her and Jennifer and the occasional visit from Amanda, was suddenly full of noise and warmth and movement. It should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt like something she had not realized she was missing.

Jeffrey sat down beside his sister, stretching his legs out in front of him. "So I am officially Uncle Jeff now. I have decided. It is a good title. Very distinguished."

"You do not get to decide your own title," Abishola said, testing the temperature of the water on her wrist.

"Nobody else was going to give it to me."

"I would have," Luna said quietly, and Jeffrey looked at her with genuine surprise. "You are her uncle. That is what she will call you. All of you."

The room went slightly quieter, the words landing with more weight than Luna had intended. She realized, in that moment, that she had just acknowledged something formal and permanent. This family, with all their noise and their chaos and their boundless affection, was now Jennifer’s family too. And by extension, they were hers.

"Thank you," Jason said, and his voice was gentle. "For letting us be part of her life. For letting us be part of yours."

Luna felt her throat tighten. She looked around the room at these people who had descended on her apartment with bags and gifts and grandmotherly authority, and she felt something crack open inside her chest. Not break. Just open. Like a door that had been locked for a very long time was finally being pushed ajar.

"I should be thanking you," she said, her voice slightly rough. "For accepting her. For accepting me."

"There is nothing to accept," Abishola said firmly. "You are family. That is the end of it. Now, Janet, you may hold her. But carefully. Support her head. Luna, come here. I will show you how to make the pap the way Jennifer will like it. The store-bought ones are fine, but homemade is better. Jason, put the kettle on. Jeffrey, stop playing with that bear, you are a grown man."

The afternoon unfolded in a rhythm that was chaotic and comforting all at once. Abishola moved through the apartment like a general directing a peaceful campaign, reorganizing cabinets, demonstrating feeding techniques, advising Luna on sleep schedules with the confidence of someone who had done this four times and remembered every detail.

"She is eating well?" Abishola asked, watching Luna prepare a bottle.

"Yes, Ma. She has a good appetite."

"And sleeping? Through the night yet?"

"Not entirely. She still wakes up once or twice. But it’s getting better."

Abishola nodded, making a sound of approval. "That is normal. Dayo did not sleep through the night until he was eight months old. He was always too alert. Always watching. Even as a baby, he acted like he was responsible for everything in the room."

"He still does," Jeffrey muttered from the couch, where he was entertaining Jennifer with the stuffed bear, making it dance in front of her face while she watched with serious, evaluating eyes.

"He does," Abishola agreed, and there was something in her voice that Luna recognized. The mixture of pride and exasperation that came from loving someone who carried too much weight. "But that is why he needs people around him who remind him he does not have to do everything alone. People who will step in and say, I am here, let me help."

She looked at Luna directly when she said this, and Luna understood that the words carried more than one meaning. Abishola was not just talking about Jennifer. She was talking about Dayo. About the space between Dayo and Luna that neither of them had yet found the words to bridge.

"I am here," Luna said softly. "For Jennifer. For... for all of it."

"I know you are." Abishola reached out and touched Luna’s hand, her palm warm and steady. "That is why I am here too."

Janet took her turn holding Jennifer, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the baby propped against her legs, showing her the toys she had brought. Small soft things, colorful rings, a tiny book with crinkly pages that made noise when Jennifer touched it.

"She likes the sound," Janet observed, shaking the book gently. "Look at her face. She’s fascinated."

"Hmm she enjoys anything that makes noise or music," Luna said, sitting down beside them. "She already has a preference for music. If a song comes on, she stops everything and listens sometimes she even moves her head to the rhythm."

"Of course she does," Jeffrey said, grinning. "She’s Dayo’s daughter. Music is in her blood."

"She is Luna’s daughter too," Abishola reminded him, though her voice carried no reprimand. "And Luna has excellent taste. So the child has the best of both."

The afternoon stretched into evening, and nobody seemed in a hurry to leave. Jason ordered food for everyone, insisting that Luna not cook, that she rest while she had the chance. They ate together around Luna’s small dining table, passing dishes and talking over each other, the conversation flowing easily from one subject to the next without any of the tension that Luna had feared.

She had thought it would feel intrusive. Having them here, in her space, rearranging her kitchen, holding her daughter, claiming titles and roles in Jennifer’s life. She had prepared herself for the feeling of being pushed to the margins, of becoming just the biological mother while Abishola took over with grandmotherly authority.

But that was not what was happening.

Abishola consulted her on everything. Asked her preferences, deferred to her decisions, made it clear at every turn that Luna was the mother and her word was final. The advice was just that. Advice. Offered with love, not imposed with control.

"You are doing a wonderful job," Abishola told her as they washed dishes together after dinner, the men in the living room arguing about football, Janet singing softly to Jennifer in the bedroom. "I want you to know that. Whatever doubts you have, whatever fears you carry about not being enough—you are enough. You have been enough since the day she was born. And you will continue to be enough."

Luna felt her eyes sting. She kept her focus on the plate she was washing, her hands moving in slow, deliberate circles. "Thank you, Ma. That means more than you know."

"I know what it means to raise a child feeling alone," Abishola continued, her voice dropping to something more private. "Even when you are surrounded by people, even when you have help, the weight of it sits on your shoulders in a way nobody else can feel. But you are not alone anymore, Luna. I want you to hear that and believe it. You are not alone."

Luna nodded, unable to speak, the gratitude pressing against her chest like a physical weight. She had spent so long building walls, convincing herself that she needed to be strong enough to do this by herself, that accepting help felt like admitting weakness. But standing in her kitchen beside Abishola, with the sounds of her family filling the other rooms, she realized that strength did not have to mean solitude.

By the time the evening wound down and Jason gently suggested to Abishola that they should head home, Luna felt something she had not felt in a very long time. Peace.

Abishola kissed Jennifer’s forehead, then Luna’s cheek, gathering her bags with the promise to return early the next morning. Janet hugged Luna with an intensity that spoke of the happiness she had been holding in all day, whispering that she would bring more gifts tomorrow, that she had already ordered things online, that Jennifer was going to be the most spoiled niece in existence.

Jeffrey claimed one last moment with Jennifer, holding her carefully and whispering, "Uncle Jeff is going to teach you everything. How to swim. How to drive your mother crazy. How to win arguments with your father. I have a lot to offer."

"Do not listen to him," Abishola said, shooing Jeffrey toward the door. "He will teach you bad habits. Come. All of you. Let Luna rest."

They filed out, leaving behind a quiet apartment that felt fundamentally different than it had that morning. Luna stood in the center of the living room, holding Jennifer close, looking around at the evidence of the day. The reorganized kitchen. The giant bear in the corner. The scattered toys. The warmth that still lingered in the air, as if the love that had filled the space had left an imprint.

Jennifer yawned against her shoulder, her small body growing heavy with sleep.

"You met your family today," Luna whispered to her, walking toward the nursery. "Your grandmother who is going to move in and take over everything, and you will love every minute of it. Your grandfather who watches everything and says little but feels everything. Your aunty who will spoil you rotten. And your uncle who thinks being funny is a personality."

Jennifer’s eyes fluttered closed, her breathing slowing into the rhythm of sleep.

"They love you," Luna continued, settling her into the crib. "They loved you before they even met you. And that is a gift I could never have given you alone."

She stood there for a long moment, watching her daughter sleep in the quiet room, and thought about the woman who had marched into her apartment that morning and claimed it as her own. Abishola had not just rearranged cabinets and offered advice. She had extended a hand across the distance that Luna had always maintained, the careful space she had kept between herself and Dayo’s family, and she had pulled Luna into the center of something warm and lasting.

Luna leaned down and kissed Jennifer’s forehead, then walked back into the living room. She sat on the couch, the apartment settling into nighttime quiet around her, and for the first time since Jennifer was born, she did not feel like she was carrying the weight of the world by herself.

She picked up her phone and sent a message to Dayo. Just a photo of the bear in the corner, and three words.

Your mother moved in.

His response came quickly. A laughing emoji, then: I know. She told me this morning. I’m sorry. She doesn’t ask permission.

Luna smiled at the screen. Don’t be sorry. She’s perfect.

She sat there in the quiet, holding the phone, feeling the warmth of the day settle into her bones like sunlight that had finally found its way through clouds. The road ahead was still uncertain. There were still conversations she needed to have, questions she needed to ask, a future that refused to define itself.

But for tonight, in this moment, she had something she had not expected.

She had family.

And that was enough.