After the long week of planning, meetings, and recordings, the studio finally went quiet. Everyone at JD Records had gone home, and for the first time in weeks, Dayo felt the weight of stillness settle around him. The peace that came with finishing the album calmed him, and he sighed in relief.

He stretched his arms and smiled a little. Three and a half weeks — that was how long he had been locked in here, chasing perfection and settling for nothing less. Every lyric, every mix, every plan. Now, with The Other Side ready for release next week, he could finally breathe.

He grabbed his jacket and decided he was going home. Although he called his family every day, it had been a while since he'd actually seen them in person. He wanted to surprise them — no calls, no texts. Just show up.

By the time he got home, it was already past seven. The evening light glowed softly around the neighborhood, and the faint smell of grilled food drifted from nearby houses. He smiled as he opened the front door quietly. The house was empty; everyone was still at the family restaurant.

He muttered "Perfect."

He dropped his bag, went straight to the kitchen, and rolled up his sleeves. Cooking had always been his thing. Long before music, he'd learned flavor — patience, timing, balance. Even in his old life, his parents used to let him handle family dinners. His mom never admitted it, but she knew he was better.

He checked the fridge and started pulling out ingredients. For his mom, he made a traditional Yoruba dish — amala with egusi soup — her favorite, something that reminded her of home. For his dad and Jeffrey, he made jollof rice with grilled chicken and fried plantain. For Janet, he made roasted plantain and well-peppered grilled fish also known as 'Bole' in Nigeria.

The house soon filled with a mix of aromas, all blending perfectly. It smelled like comfort. He set the table neatly, dimmed the lights, and waited.

Around eight, he heard the familiar sound of his dad's car pulling into the driveway. Then came the front door unlocking, a low voice, and laughter.

"Something smells good," Abisola's voice said as she stepped inside.

Mr. Johnson, his father, sniffed the air with a soldier's suspicion. "Hmm. This smells too good. Something's up."

Janet laughed. "Dad, relax."

"I'm serious," he said, scanning the room like it was a mission. "Either Abisola started taking cooking lessons behind my back or—"

The lights flicked on.

"—or Dayo's home," he finished, smiling widely.

Janet screamed first. "BROTHER!" She dropped her bag and ran to hug him tight.

He laughed, spinning her around. "I missed you too, Janet."

Jeffrey grinned from behind. "Man, you should've told us you were coming."

Dayo gave him their old handshake — two taps, a snap, and a light punch on the shoulder. "Would've ruined the surprise."

His dad stepped forward with a wide grin. "So you finally decided to come back, huh?"

"Had to," Dayo said. "Can't let the restaurant feed everyone and forget me."

Abisola crossed her arms, trying not to smile too much. "You came home and took over my kitchen, hmm?"

Dayo smirked. "Guilty. But before you get mad, just taste the food first."

His father chuckled. "Boy, you're brave. You know your mother doesn't like competition in the kitchen."

Abisola rolled her eyes but smiled. "Let's see what you made, superstar chef."

They sat down, and Dayo uncovered the dishes one by one. Steam filled the air. The colors, the smell — everything was perfect. For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Then Abisola took the first bite of her amala.

She paused. "Hmm."

Janet clapped. "Mom's thinking of how to say it's better than hers."

Everyone laughed, and even Abisola shook her head with a smile. "It's… alright."

"Alright?" Jeffrey said, chewing. "This is fire. Dude, you could open your own restaurant."

"I already did," Dayo said, pretending to brag. "It's called JD Kitchen."

His dad chuckled. "Better stick to JD Records, soldier."

The laughter went on for minutes. The house felt alive again — full of warmth, full of noise. It was simple, but it was everything Dayo had missed.

After dinner, they cleared the table together, and everyone stayed in the living room. Janet leaned on the couch beside him. "So," she said, "what's next? You've been so secretive lately."

Dayo smiled, already knowing the question was coming. "The album drops next week."

Jeffrey's eyes widened. "Wait — The Other Side?"

"Yep."

"No way," Janet said, sitting up. "That soon?"

"Yeah. Everything's ready. We're just setting the final touches."

Abisola smiled proudly. "You've been working hard, Dayo. I can see it in your eyes."

He nodded. "I actually want you all to hear one track before it comes out."

Janet gasped. "For real? Which one?"

He reached for his phone. "It's called Heavenly Kind of State of Mind."

He connected it to the speaker, and the soft intro began — calm guitar, light humming, and his voice carrying through the room. The song felt deep, emotional, almost like a goodbye but filled with peace.

When the first verse hit, Janet's eyes softened. She could feel it — the ache, the hope. Jeffrey leaned forward, nodding to the rhythm. Their dad just sat still, quiet and proud. Abisola's eyes glistened faintly, though she tried to hide it.

When the song ended, silence filled the room for a few seconds.

Janet was the first to speak. "That was beautiful."

Jeffrey gave a small grin. "Bro, that one's a hit."

His dad nodded slowly. "It's more than music, son. That… that's a story."

He knew the song was about his brother, although he didn't say it out loud. He felt happy and honored that Dayo sang about his late brother. If only he knew more songs were about Marcus on the album too.

Abisola took his hand gently. "You've grown, Dayo. We're proud of you."

He smiled, his chest warm. "Thanks, Mom. This album… it's not just about music. It's about everything we've been through. About what comes after."

"The other side," Jeffrey said quietly.

"Exactly," Dayo replied.

They all sat there for a while, the soft sound of the city outside mixing with their quiet breathing. For once, Dayo didn't feel the pressure of the world or the noise of fame. He just felt home — the smell of food, the laughter, the peace.

The album would drop soon, and the world would hear his heart. But tonight, none of that mattered.

Tonight, it was just family.

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