Dayo stood still.
For a few seconds, he genuinely forgot how to move.
The airport noise faded into the background—rolling luggage, distant announcements, footsteps—but his eyes stayed fixed on the group standing in front of him.
It wasn't just Janet.
It was everyone.
His father stood a little behind, hands in his coat pockets, posture calm and solid like always, like the soldier he was. His mother was beside him, eyes already soft, already emotional, holding her bag with both hands as if grounding herself. His brother leaned casually, wearing that familiar half-smile that always said more than words. And then there were the others, Sharon, his PA, Deborah, her daughter, clustered together, laughing quietly, waiting for his reaction.
Dayo exhaled sharply.
"What…?" was all he managed to say.
Janet laughed and stepped forward. "Surprise."
He looked at her, then at his mother.
"But… I spoke to you yesterday," he said slowly. "You didn't say anything."
