From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 296: Not Picking

Luna stared at her phone.

The screen kept lighting up, dimming, lighting up again like it was breathing on its own. The name stayed there, unmoving, undeniable.

Dayo.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

Deborah noticed immediately.

"He’s calling?" Deborah asked quietly.

Luna didn’t answer right away. She just nodded.

Deborah moved closer to the bed, lowering her voice instinctively. "Do you think he knows?"

Luna swallowed a bit shaken by the constant call of Dayo.

"I don’t know," she said. "I really don’t."

The phone vibrated again.

She felt her chest tighten, a strange mix of fear and exhaustion pressing down on her. She had prepared herself for many things media pressure, label threats, public judgment but this was different.

This was personal and a weak spot that hit her were it hurt the most although she was trying to deny it she couldn’t deny that she really wanted to talk but she had to hold herself for personal reasons.

"This conversation..." Luna began, then stopped. She shook her head slowly. "I can’t do this now."

Deborah studied her face. "Avoiding it won’t make it disappear."

"I know," Luna replied softly. "But answering it right now will only make things worse."

The phone buzzed again. Then stopped.

Then buzzed once more.

Luna turned the screen face-down on the bed.

"I don’t want to talk," she said. "Not today. Not like this."

Deborah hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Luna looked at her daughter, who was sleeping peacefully in her arms, completely unaware of the weight hanging over the room.

"I’m sure," she said. "If I pick that call now, everything changes. And I’m not ready."

Deborah nodded slowly. "Okay."

Luna exhaled, leaning back against the pillows.

"Later," she murmured. "When I’m stronger and ready to face him I would talk."

***

Dayo sat alone in his apartment, phone pressed to his ear.

The call rang.

Once.

Twice.

No answer.

He pulled the phone away and looked at the screen, jaw tightening.

He already knew what it meant.

She saw it.

She chose not to pick up.

When he saw the news his first though was to leave her since she didn’t inform him he felt she wanted peace or space but upon getting to bed to sleep he juat couldnt sleep as the thought kept bugging him he decided to call her but it seems she didn’t want to talk answer.

Dayo leaned back against the couch and let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his dreds. His chest felt tight not sharp pain, not anger just a dull, heavy pressure that sat there stubbornly.

So that’s how it is, he thought.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

The silence on the other end felt deliberate.

He stared at the phone for a few seconds longer, then finally locked the screen and set it down beside him.

He wasn’t stupid.

From the moment he saw the news, something inside him had shifted. Not shock he had known Luna long enough to understand how carefully she moved. If something like this happened, it wasn’t careless.

And now she wasn’t answering.

Which told him everything he needed to know.

She didn’t want to talk.

And somehow... he understood.

Dayo closed his eyes briefly and leaned his head back.

He wanted to ask questions.

He wanted to understand.

Why she didn’t wait.

Why she didn’t tell him.

Why now.

But wanting didn’t give him the right.

If she had decided to move forward without him, then pushing himself back into her life would only reopen wounds she clearly wanted closed.

He let out a quiet, humorless breath.

"Fine," he muttered to the empty room.

He stood up, picked up his controller from the table, and turned on his console.

If his mind wouldn’t rest, he’d drown it out.

The stream went live within minutes.

The chat exploded instantly.

— DAYO’S LIVE??

— BRO IT’S LATE

—LET’S GO

— WAR MODE??

-OR BATTLE ROLYAL

Dayo adjusted his headset, eyes locked on the screen.

"Yo," he said calmly. "What’s good."

His voice sounded normal. Steady.

But the people watching could tell.

Something was off as Dayo would usually engage with the crowd and make a bit of talk but he did nothing of such.

The match started.

And Dayo went in like he had something to prove. With his eyes locked on the screen aand dead serious.

He moved fast. Too fast.

No hesitation. No mercy.

Enemies dropped one after another, clean shots, aggressive pushes, risky flanks that somehow paid off every time.

Kill count climbing.

On a normal if he meets an opponent in the game that wanted to team up he would accept but he didn’t do anything of such and killed them straight up.

Chat went wild.

— BRO????

— WHAT IS THIS

— HE’S FARMING

— DAYO CALM DOWN

--SOMETHINGIS WRONG

--YEAH I FEEL THE SAME TOO

He didn’t respond.

He was focused. Sharp. Ruthless.

Every movement felt like release every shot fired, every enemy downed chipped away at the pressure sitting in his chest.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t joking.

He was emptying himself.

"Yo," someone finally typed. "Dario you good?"

Another message followed.

— He’s not even laughing

— This is scary

— Bro’s on demon time

-YOO DAYO CALM DOWN

a-AREYOU GOOD DAYO.

Dario wiped sweat from his forehead as the match ended first place with more than 30 kills.

He leaned back slightly and finally exhaled.

"Yeah," he said after a pause. "I’m good."

No one believed him.

He stared at the screen, then spoke again, slower this time.

"I just had some... rough news today."

The chat slowed.

— Damn

—Sorry bro

- I was right something was off.

-Are you good ?

— You wanna talk about it?

Dario shook his head, even though they couldn’t see it.

"Nah," he said. "It’s private. But I appreciate y’all."

Messages flooded in anyway supportive, concerned, familiar.

He stayed on stream longer than usual, running match after match, aggression never fading. By the time he finally ended it, the clock had already passed midnight.

The room felt quiet again.

Too quiet.

He removed the headset and set it aside, shoulders sagging slightly now that the adrenaline was gone.

The weight returned.

Dario lay back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

His phone sat on the table, screen dark.

No missed calls.

No messages.

He closed his eyes.

Luna’s face drifted into his mind uninvited calm, distant, guarded the last time he had seen her.

He turned onto his side and let out a slow breath.

"If that’s what you want," he murmured, "I’ll respect it."

Sleep came slowly.

And even when it did, his thoughts stayed elsewhere.