The moment Luna stepped out of the house, the door closing softly behind her, Dayo exhaled a long, steady breath. It felt like the entire room exhaled with him. The quiet that followed wasn't empty—just heavy, warm, and painfully familiar. The kind of silence that sits in your chest.
He stood still for a few seconds, hands hanging loosely at his sides, eyes fixed on the door Luna had just walked through. For a moment, he almost expected her to come back inside, even though he knew she wouldn't.
He ran a hand over his face and turned toward the corner of the room where his guitar leaned against the wall, waiting patiently. A small sigh escaped him—part exhaustion, part acceptance—as he picked it up. His fingers brushed the strings, testing the tension. The wood vibrated just slightly under his touch, the way it always had.
