By four in the afternoon, Luna had listened to the first twelve seconds of Quiet Years so many times that Wayne came out of the control room and unplugged the studio speakers himself.
He did it gently, which made the betrayal worse.
Luna turned in her chair and stared at the cable in his hand. "That was rude."
Wayne looped the cable once around his palm and leaned against the console. He looked tired. Everyone did. Release day had that effect on people. It turned normal adults into suspicious creatures who refreshed dashboards and argued with clocks.
"You’ve played it enough times. Now you’re just looking for problems. And it’s too late for that."
Luna looked toward Dayo, who was sitting near the back of the studio with a notebook open on his lap. "Are you going to let him speak to me like this?"
Dayo did not look up right away. He finished writing something, capped the pen, then gave the room the careful attention of a man who knew both answers were dangerous.
"I think Wayne has a point," he said.
Luna made a small sound of disbelief and turned back to the silent speakers. "Of course you do. Producers protect each other. It is a sickness."
Wayne pointed at Dayo. "See? She understands industry politics."
"I understand conspiracy, and that’s all I smell now," Luna said, but some of the sharpness had gone out of her voice.
The studio was warm from too many bodies and too many machines left running. Someone had brought food earlier, and the smell of rice, pepper sauce, and cold coffee had settled into the room. Sharon was at the side table with two laptops open, checking scheduled posts and regional release windows. Amanda sat beside her, wearing the expression she usually had when she wanted to fight a spreadsheet. Alice was on a call near the glass door, one hand over her other ear because the hallway outside refused to stay quiet.
Nothing dramatic was happening.
That was the problem.
Luna had learned how to survive busy days. Busy days gave her tasks. Stand there. Answer this. Smile if necessary. Correct that. Drink water because Amanda was glaring. There was always something to do.
Waiting was worse, especially when the album was already this close to release.
The EP was finished. The cover was approved. The tracks were delivered. The midnight release was locked across platforms. The interview had done what it needed to do. Old fans were awake. New listeners were curious who she was to make the internet this worked up. The stupid headlines had not vanished, but they were no longer controlling the room.
All that remained was the part nobody could rehearse.
People had to hear the songs.
Luna reached toward the speakers again, then caught Wayne watching her and dropped her hand onto the arm of the chair instead.
"I wasn’t going to play it," she said.
Wayne lifted both hands, the cable still hanging from one. "I said nothing."
"Your face said many things."
"My face is my face, and don’t judge a book by the face."
Amanda looked up from her laptop. "Wayne, if you start another argument before release night, I will remove you from the room and tell everyone you chose wellness."
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, then walked to the snack table. Luna took that as a small victory even though the speakers remained useless.
Dayo closed his notebook and came to stand beside her chair. He did not ask if she was nervous. That would have been annoying, and worse, obvious.
Instead, he looked at the unplugged speakers. "You were replaying the start."
Luna folded her arms. "Congratulations on noticing Boyfriend of the year."
"I mean only the start. You kept stopping before the first verse settled."
She hated that he was right. She had not noticed until he said it.
"It feels different there," she said after a while. "The first few seconds. Once the verse comes in, I can hear the song. Before that, it feels like... I don’t know. Like the door is open and I’m still deciding whether to enter."
Dayo pulled the chair beside her closer with his foot and sat down. "Is the mix wrong?"
"No." Luna frowned at the speakers, though they were not guilty of anything now. "That’s what bothers me. If something was wrong, I could suggest it so you can fix it and pretend that was the whole feeling. But Wayne did his job. You did yours. I did mine. Amanda did whatever frightening thing she does with schedules. Alice and Sharon have already threatened half the media into behaving."
From the table, Amanda did not look up. "Not half. A reasonable portion."
Sharon murmured, "A legally defensible portion."
Luna almost laughed, but the feeling slipped away before it became sound. She rubbed her thumb along the seam of her sleeve. "There is nothing left to hide inside process. That’s all. The songs have to leave now."
Dayo listened without rushing to comfort her. That was one of the things he had become better at. In the beginning, he would have tried to solve the fear like a production issue. Adjust the levels. Change the arrangement. Add another layer. Now he knew some things only needed to be said and left alone.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low enough that the room did not have to join them. "You have released music before."
Luna gave him a sideways look. "Thank you for reminding me of my own career."
He accepted the jab with a small smile. "I mean this is not your first time standing in front of listeners. Your fans know your voice. Some of them have been waiting longer than we came back again."
That softened something in her, though she tried to pretend it had not. She looked through the glass into the empty vocal booth. The microphone still stood there from the last recording session, covered now, looking oddly harmless.
"That’s part of the fear," she said. "They remember me one way. The industry remembers another. People who found me through you are arriving with their own idea. And I can’t stand beside each one and explain why a line is quiet or why a song doesn’t explode where they expect it to. Once it drops, they’ll make their own Luna from what they hear."
Dayo tapped the edge of his notebook against his knee. "They already did that before."
"Yes. I know. I just had more energy back then to argue with invisible people."
That made him laugh, not loudly, but enough for her to glance at him.
Wayne returned from the snack table with a paper plate and found both of them looking too serious for his taste. He hovered for a moment, unsure whether to enter the conversation or retreat. For once, he chose a middle path and placed the plate beside Luna without commentary.
There were sliced oranges on it, a few crackers, and a small piece of cake someone had cut badly.
Luna looked at the plate, then at Wayne.
He lifted one shoulder. "Amanda was going to start feeding people by force. I thought I’d reduce casualties."
Amanda did not deny it.
Luna picked up one orange slice. "Thank you."
Wayne looked uncomfortable with the sincere response, so he turned to Dayo. "You too. Eat something before you start looking like an inspirational documentary."
Dayo took a cracker because arguing would only encourage him.
Alice finished her call and returned to the table. "Platform checks are clean. We have confirmation from all primary services. Regional timing is synced. The lyric pages go live with the EP. Credits are correct. Luna is first on every public-facing announcement."
Amanda’s chair creaked as she leaned back. "And the duet?"
"Track one stays listed exactly as planned. We are not pushing couple edits tonight. The first post after release will be the Quiet Years studio clip."
Luna looked over. "You are sure about using that one first?"
Alice came closer to the middle of the room, but she did not stand over Luna. That was one of the reasons Luna trusted her. Alice could be firm without needing height as a weapon.
"I’m sure because it gives people your voice without letting them make the duet the whole story in the first hour," Alice said. "The duet will move on its own. Dayo’s name will make sure of that whether we feed it or not. We need to guide attention toward the songs that only you can carry."
Dayo nodded from his chair. He did not insert himself into the decision, which Luna noticed. Amanda noticed too. Amanda noticed everything and stored it for later judgement.
Sharon turned one laptop slightly so Luna could see the schedule. "The studio clip is simple. No interview audio on top. No dramatic text. We start with you at the mic during the final take. Fifteen seconds. Enough to give them the tone, not enough for people to turn it into a full analysis before midnight."
Luna made a face. "They will still analyze it."
"They will," Sharon said. "But if people want to overthink fifteen seconds, that is their hobby. We cannot save them."
Wayne sat on the arm of the couch and stole one cracker from Luna’s plate. "I support letting fans have hobbies. It keeps them away from producing."
"Wayne," Amanda said, "you are eating from her plate."
He paused, looked at the cracker in his hand, then placed it back on the plate with exaggerated care.
Luna stared at it. "I’m not eating that now."
"I barely touched it."
"You touched it spiritually."
Dayo started laughing before he could stop himself. The sound pulled a few smiles around the room, even from Alice, who tried to hide hers by looking at the dashboard.
The small nonsense helped.
For twenty minutes, they worked like people who had remembered how to be normal. Amanda corrected a press note. Sharon checked time zones. Alice reviewed one more platform confirmation. Wayne reconnected the speakers only long enough to test a separate export and then removed the cable again before Luna could use it against herself. Dayo made two quiet calls about unrelated JD Records business and refused one request for a release-night joint post with Luna.
When he said no, Luna heard it.
He did not make a performance of it. He simply stood near the hallway, phone to his ear, listening to someone on the other end speak too fast.
"No," he said, not sharply. "Tonight is her project. Send congratulations from the label account if needed, but don’t pitch it as a couple moment."
He paused, listening again.
"I understand it would get attention. That is not the goal of that post."
Luna lowered her eyes to the orange peel in her hand, oddly moved and irritated at the same time. Moved because he understood. Irritated because she did not want to be moved by every decent thing he did.
Amanda, unfortunately, saw her face.
She said nothing. That was mercy, or possibly blackmail saved for a later date.
By six, the first Quiet Years studio clip went live.
The room watched it on Sharon’s laptop.
The video opened on Luna in the booth, headphones over her hair, one hand lightly gripping the music stand. No filter made the room glow. No slow-motion shot tried to make the moment bigger than it was. The audio began with her inhaling close to the mic, not dramatic, just human, then the first line of the song entered soft and steady.
Luna did not watch herself. She watched the comments begin to appear.
At first, they were exactly what she expected.
People shouting. People typing in all caps. People calling Amanda Aunty No under a clip that had nothing to do with Amanda, which made Amanda leave the room for tea again and made Wayne whisper that the brand was growing.
Then the responses began to slow down.
A listener wrote:
Oh. This is not comeback noise. This is a room at night.
Luna stared at that one longer than the others.
Another comment appeared beneath it.
I forgot how she holds quiet notes. Nobody sounds like her when she stops trying to impress you.
An old fan replied:
She was always like this. You just had to listen past the big singles.
Luna took the phone from Sharon and scrolled with care. Not too fast. Not like she was punishing herself. For the first time all day, she looked like the comments were something she could touch without flinching.
Amanda watched for a while, then said, "Five minutes, then you give it back."
Luna did not look up. "Seven."
"Six."
"You’re bargaining with a woman on release day."
"I’m preventing self-harm through comment sections."
Luna considered that, then handed back the phone before Amanda could win too clearly. "Fine. Six, but I’m ending early so you don’t feel powerful."
Amanda accepted the phone. "I already feel powerful."
Wayne leaned toward Sharon. "Aunty No."
Amanda did not turn. "I heard that."
He leaned away again.
The clip kept moving. It did not explode like Dayo’s posts did. It did not need to. It gathered the right kind of attention. People listened more than they shouted. That mattered to everyone in the room, though none of them said it too neatly.
At seven-thirty, Luna stepped out to call home.
She did not go far. Just into the hallway near the vending machine, where the noise of the studio softened behind the door. She called Abishola first because Jennifer was with her and because Luna knew if she waited too long, Abishola would call with the kind of affection that sounded like accusation.
Abishola answered with Jennifer already making noise in the background.
"Luna, my dear, this child has poured blocks inside my handbag. Is that music people behavior?"
Luna leaned against the wall, smiling before she meant to. "That is engineering behavior. Dayo will be proud."
"Do not put this on my son. He already has enough bad habits."
Jennifer babbled something that might have been a greeting or a complaint.
"Is she okay?" Luna asked.
"She is fighting sleep with her whole body. Wait." The phone rustled, and Abishola’s voice moved away. "Jennifer, say hello to mummy. No, don’t lick the phone. Ah, this girl."
Luna pressed her free hand over her mouth.
Dayo came into the hallway at that moment and stopped when he heard his mother’s voice through the phone. Luna waved him over.
Abishola returned. "She is refusing to greet because she believes she is the owner of this house."
"She gets that from Dayo," Luna said.
Dayo took offense immediately. "I walked into the conversation and got attacked."
Abishola heard him. "Dayo, leave that woman alone tonight. It is her day."
"I haven’t done anything."
"That is not proof you will not."
Luna bent forward laughing, forehead nearly touching the vending machine.
Dayo looked at the phone as if betrayed by family law. "Mama, at least pretend to support me."
"I support you when you are correct."
"Rare policy."
"Then behave more often."
Jennifer shouted in the background, and Abishola sighed. "Go and release your music. I will handle this small madam. Luna, don’t worry too much. People who love your voice will find it again."
Luna’s laughter faded into something quieter. "Thank you, ma."
"Eat also. You artists behave as if rice is an enemy."
The call ended before Luna could defend herself.
She lowered the phone and looked at Dayo. "Your mother scares everyone into eating."
"She calls it parenting."
"It works."
Dayo reached toward the vending machine and pressed two buttons. A bottle of water dropped with a heavy thump, followed by a packet of biscuits.
Luna gave him a look. "Not you too."
He picked them up and handed her the water first. "I’m not telling you to eat. I’m placing options in your environment."
"That’s manipulation."
"Soft manipulation."
She took the water, opened it, and drank. The hallway lights hummed overhead. Someone passed at the far end carrying a coil of cables. From inside the studio, Wayne’s voice rose briefly, complaining about a hi-hat nobody had asked him to revisit.
For a minute, they stood there without talking about the release.
Then Luna said, "I hate that part of me still wants everyone to understand it correctly."
Dayo leaned against the wall beside her, leaving space between them because the hallway had traffic and because this was not a moment for performance. "Which song?"
"All of them. But mostly Loved Without Chains. People are going to turn it into romance discourse. I can already feel it. Some will make it about you. Some will make it about people before you. Some will write long threads as if I gave them my diary."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Then let them be wrong."
She laughed, but not much. "That is easy for you. You can ignore a thousand people before breakfast."
"I learned after failing at it many times."
Luna turned the bottle slowly in her hands. The label had started to peel at one corner. She picked at it with her nail, then stopped because she realized she was doing it. "When I was younger, I used to read everything. Reviews, comments, fan theories, even the cruel ones. I told myself it made me stronger. Really, it just made every studio session crowded. I would sing and hear strangers correcting me in my head."
Dayo’s face changed a little, but he did not interrupt.
"This time," she continued, "I don’t want them in the booth with me. The songs are already done, so maybe that sounds ridiculous. But I still feel like if I read too much tonight, they’ll get in after the fact."
Dayo took the unopened biscuit packet from his pocket and turned it over once, as if studying the ingredients. "Then don’t read too much tonight."
"I know Amanda told you to say that."
"She didn’t."
"She thought it loudly in your direction."
"Possibly."
Luna smiled and nudged his shoe with hers. "There you go again, being careful."
"I’m trying not to fix what you only wanted to say."
That caught her.
She looked at him for a while, then handed him the water bottle so she could fold the loose piece of label flat again. "You’ve become irritatingly teachable."
"I’ll try to regress."
"Please don’t."
Inside the studio, Amanda opened the door and looked down the hallway. She saw them standing near the vending machine and chose, for once, not to interrupt with urgency.
"Dinner in ten," she said. "If you both pretend not to hear me, I will come back with plates."
"We heard you," Luna said.
Amanda seemed satisfied and went back inside.
Luna waited until the door closed. "She will still come with plates."
"Yes."
"Good."
They returned before Amanda could make good on the threat.
Dinner was eaten around laptops and lyric sheets. Not elegantly. Nothing about release night was elegant at ground level. Sauce spilled near the edge of the console. Sharon nearly placed her sleeve in it and was saved by Alice, who somehow had napkins ready. Wayne complained that nobody respected the sanctity of studio equipment while eating over studio equipment. Amanda told him he had once balanced fried chicken on a keyboard, and he became suddenly interested in his rice.
The work continued.
At nine, the lyric pages were checked again.
At ten, the release confirmation emails arrived in another wave.
At ten-thirty, Luna’s old catalog numbers climbed high enough that Mara called from another office, sounding half pleased and half alarmed.
"They’re listening backwards," Mara said through the speaker. "The interview pushed them to the old albums, and the Quiet Years clip brought more in. We have a lot of new listeners entering from older tracks before the EP drops."
Alice looked pleased in the controlled way that meant she was already thinking five steps ahead. "Good. Don’t redirect them too aggressively. Let the old work breathe tonight. Tomorrow morning we can thread the catalog into the EP properly."
Luna sat on the couch with one knee drawn up, listening to them discuss her old work as if it had woken up in another room.
"That’s strange," she said.
Mara looked at her through the screen. "Strange bad?"
"No. Just strange. Those songs feel like clothes I packed away and forgot people could still wear."
Wayne, who had been quiet for once, glanced at the wall screen showing the catalog movement. "Some of them aged well."
"Some of them did not," Luna said.
He considered that. "True. One synth choice on your third single should be tried at The Hague."
Luna threw a napkin at him. It missed by a shameful distance.
Amanda looked at the fallen napkin. "That is why you should eat more. Weak attack."
Luna gave her a tired smile. "Everyone in this room is against me."
Dayo looked over from the side table where he had been checking messages. "Not everyone."
"You’re on probation."
"For what?"
"For agreeing with Wayne earlier."
He accepted that with a small bow of his head. "Fair."
The room settled after that. The last two hours before midnight had a different texture. People spoke less because there was less to say. Even Wayne stopped inventing technical emergencies. Sharon dimmed one of the screens because Luna said the white background was starting to feel personal. Amanda arranged and rearranged three printed schedules until Alice quietly took two away from her.
At eleven-twenty, Dayo’s phone buzzed.
He saw Felix’s name.
He did not open it in front of Luna.
That was a mistake, because Luna saw the decision before the screen went dark.
She did not call him out in the room. She waited until he stood and moved toward the hallway. Then she followed with her own phone in hand, pretending to check a message.
Dayo stopped near the same vending machine as before. "You don’t have to come."
Luna leaned against the opposite wall. "I know. That is different from wanting to know whether your face changed because of business, danger, or somebody asking you for another couple post."
Despite himself, he smiled. "Not a couple post."
"Then Felix."
He looked down at the phone, thumb resting beside the unread message. "Yes."
Luna’s voice stayed even. "Read it."
He did.
The message was short.
Movement again. Same vendor family, newer shell. One cutoff near old Silas-linked PR route. No direct touch on EP release from what I see. Recommend passive watch tonight.
Dayo read it a second time before showing her.
Luna did not snatch the phone. She took it carefully, read the message, then handed it back.
"Passive watch means he watches and you don’t move?" she asked.
"That is what it should mean."
"What does it mean when you are angry?"
Dayo did not answer quickly, which was answer enough.
Luna folded her arms, but there was no performance in it. She looked tired rather than confrontational. "I am going to say this once tonight because if I say it more, I will sound like I’m begging. Don’t turn the EP release into bait. Don’t leak something because the noise is convenient. Don’t let Michael and Silas borrow my midnight, even if they don’t know they’re doing it."
Dayo slipped the phone into his pocket. The hallway was empty now, except for a staff member at the far end taping down a cable. The studio door was open a crack, and Amanda’s voice carried through as she asked someone where the clean glasses had gone.
"I won’t," he said.
Luna watched him.
He added, more carefully, "Felix watches. No leak. No journalist call. No pressure move tonight. If something threatens the release directly, I’ll tell you and Amanda before I act."
That did not make the situation harmless. It made it honest enough to stand beside.
"Okay," Luna said.
Dayo pushed away from the wall. "I don’t like waiting when they are moving."
"I know."
"And I don’t like that they may be using public noise to clean their mess."
"I know that too."
"Then you also know I am going to be annoying for the next few hours."
Luna looked toward the studio, where the others were waiting without openly waiting. "You may be annoying tomorrow. Tonight you can sit down, drink water, and look supportive."
He gave her a look. "Look supportive?"
"Yes. You do it well when you are not plotting."
"I am always plotting a little."
"Then reduce it. For my health."
That finally got a real laugh from him. He sent Felix one message before they returned.
Passive watch only tonight. No public move. Send a clean brief after release window unless urgent.
He showed Luna before sending it.
She nodded once, and he pressed send.
When they reentered the studio, Amanda looked from one face to the other and took in enough to understand the outline.
"Problem?"
Luna answered before Dayo could. "Felix is watching something. It doesn’t touch the release directly. Dayo has agreed to behave until after midnight."
Amanda stared at Dayo. "Define behave."
Dayo went to the snack table, opened a bottle of water, and took a drink before answering. "No public move, no leak, no journalist contact tonight unless the EP is threatened."
Amanda held out her hand.
He stared at it. "What?"
"Phone."
Luna began laughing.
Dayo looked offended. "I’m not a child."
Amanda’s hand stayed there. "No, you’re a very powerful adult with a habit of doing things quietly. Phone."
Alice, from the table, did not even try to help him. "Give it to her. It will make the next thirty minutes easier."
Wayne leaned back on the couch. "This is historic. I want everyone to know I was present when Amanda collected JD’s phone like a teacher before an exam."
Dayo handed the phone to Amanda with wounded dignity.
Amanda placed it face down beside her laptop. "Thank you."
"If Felix calls with an emergency?"
"Then I answer and decide whether you deserve to know."
"Amanda."
She looked up at him over her glasses. "Sit down."
Luna pressed her lips together to keep from laughing too loudly. Dayo saw and pointed at her. "You are enjoying this."
"I am healing."
Wayne covered his mouth with one hand. Sharon turned away from her laptop for a second because she was smiling too much to work. Even Alice looked entertained.
Dayo sat beside Luna, defeated for the moment, and the last part of the wait began.
At eleven-forty-five, the final dashboard went up on the main screen.
The EP page was scheduled and locked.
The Door You Built sat at the top with Luna’s name above it. Dayo’s name was in the credits where it belonged, not in the headline, not hovering over the cover, not crowding the first glance.
Luna studied the screen.
Track one: The Door You Built.
Track two: Quiet Years.
Track three: Little Light.
Track four: Loved Without Chains.
Track five: Before the Door.
She had seen the list hundreds of times by now, but the closer midnight came, the less it looked like metadata and the more it looked like five rooms she had left unlocked.
Amanda came to sit on her other side. She did not speak at first. She only placed a small plate in Luna’s lap, two pieces of fruit and a slice of cake.
Luna looked down at it. "You are relentless."
"Eat the fruit. The cake is emotional support."
"I thought Dayo was emotional support."
Amanda looked past Luna toward him. "He is on phone restriction. His usefulness is limited."
Dayo accepted this with the face of a man choosing peace.
Luna ate one piece of fruit. Amanda seemed satisfied enough to leave the cake alone.
At eleven-fifty-two, Sharon lowered the studio volume and checked the scheduled posts one final time. Alice stood behind her, reading over her shoulder without interfering. Wayne had stopped joking completely. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers linked, watching the screen as if it might insult the mix at the last second.
At eleven-fifty-six, Luna stood.
Nobody asked why.
She walked to the glass window of the vocal booth and looked inside. The mic was still covered. The stool was slightly turned from the last session. On the floor near the stand was a pencil Wayne had dropped days earlier and never retrieved.
That bothered her suddenly.
She opened the booth door, stepped in, picked up the pencil, and placed it on the stool. It was a stupid thing to do, but the room looked better without it on the floor.
When she returned, Dayo had stood too. He did not reach for her. He only moved aside so she could take her place in front of the dashboard.
"Four minutes," Sharon said, then made a face. "Sorry. That sounded like a launch controller."
"Feels like one," Wayne said. "Except rockets don’t have comment sections."
"No one mention comments," Amanda said.
Luna looked at the screen. "It’s fine."
Amanda did not believe her, but she let it pass.
The final minutes did not feel dramatic. That surprised Luna. No music swelled in the background. No one gave a speech. The room smelled like coffee and cake. Someone in the hallway laughed at something unrelated. Sharon’s laptop fan made a tired little noise. Dayo stood on Luna’s right. Amanda stayed on her left. Alice and Wayne watched from behind the console.
At eleven-fifty-nine, Luna stopped looking at the countdown.
She looked at the tracklist instead.
Her name above it.
Her songs beneath it.
The work in order.
That was enough to hold.
The status changed at midnight.
Scheduled became live.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Not because the moment needed ceremony, but because everyone seemed to be waiting for Luna to decide what kind of room they were in now.
She looked at the screen, then at Amanda’s confiscated phone beside the laptop, then at Dayo pretending not to care that Amanda still had it.
A laugh slipped out of her before anything else.
Amanda turned. "What?"
Luna shook her head, still looking at the live page. "Nothing. I just thought I would feel more dramatic."
Wayne leaned back at last, rubbing both hands over his face. "Please don’t. We are very tired."
Luna reached for the slice of cake on the plate Amanda had given her and took a small bite.
"Okay," she said after swallowing.
Amanda watched her carefully. "Okay?"
Luna looked at the EP page again. This time, she did not reach to refresh it.
"Yes," she said. "It’s out."
Dayo’s hand found hers only after she reached first.
The screen remained live in front of them, ordinary and impossible at the same time.
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