Chapter 618: The voice
Maya Brooks almost did not answer the first call.
She was coming off a twelve-hour shift when her phone rang, standing outside the staff entrance of St. Adrian’s Hospital in Toronto with her coat half-zipped and one shoe pressing into a patch of dirty snow. The number was international. Her first thought was scam. Her second thought was that one of her aunties had given her number to another church committee without warning.
She let it ring twice.
Then she saw the email notification arrive at the same time.
JD Records.
Maya stared at the screen long enough for the call to end.
"Oh, God," she said, because there were moments when language gave up and left only prayer.
The phone rang again.
This time she answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Maya Brooks?"
"Yes."
"My name is Sharon Adam. I work with JD Records."
Maya shut her eyes.
A passing nurse from pediatrics slowed down when she saw Maya’s face. Maya waved her away with the stiff smile of someone who was either receiving life-changing news or discovering a problem with her bank account.
Sharon’s voice was warm but careful. "I’m calling about your Enter the Song Challenge submission. The hospital chapel cover."
Maya gripped the phone tighter.
"I didn’t think anyone from the label would actually call," she said.
"We watched it several times."
"That makes me feel worse."
Sharon laughed softly. "You won."
Maya did not move.
Behind her, the automatic staff door opened and closed as people left for the evening. Someone called her name. She did not answer.
"I’m sorry," she said. "What?"
"You won the challenge. The prize is ten thousand dollars and a private visit to JD Records in London to meet Dayo. Travel and accommodation are covered. There are details we will send in writing, and there is no pressure to decide on this call."
Maya looked down at the snow near her shoe. It had turned gray from salt and traffic.
"I sang that after a shift," she said, as if Sharon had accused her of planning something.
"I know."
"I was tired. I didn’t even set the camera properly."
"That is part of why people believed it."
Maya swallowed.
The hospital chapel had been almost empty that night. She had gone there because a patient she had grown attached to had taken a turn, and she did not trust herself to go straight home with everything still sitting in her chest. Someone had played the O2 live version in the nurses’ station earlier. The crowd under Dayo’s voice had followed her through the hallway. She had recorded the cover for no serious reason, posted it with no strategy, then gone home and slept with her uniform still in the laundry basket.
By morning, strangers were crying in her comments.
By the end of the week, her mother was sending links to relatives who had never downloaded the app properly.
Now JD Records was calling.
"Maya?" Sharon asked gently.
"I’m here. Sorry. I think my brain left."
"Take your time."
Maya laughed once, shaky and embarrassed. "If I say yes, do I have to sing in front of him?"
"Only if you want to. The meeting is yours."
That answer helped.
It also made the whole thing more frightening.
***
Three days later, Maya arrived in London with one suitcase, two pressed outfits, and a stomach that had been misbehaving since the plane landed. JD Records sent a driver. She spent most of the ride looking out the window and trying to pretend she was not rehearsing greetings under her breath.
When the car stopped outside the building, she stayed seated for a second too long.
The driver turned slightly. "You all right, Ms. Brooks?"
"Yes," she said.
She did not move.
The driver waited.
Maya finally laughed at herself and opened the door. "Okay. I’m not all right, but I can walk."
Inside, Sharon met her in the lobby.
Maya recognized her voice before her face and felt relieved for reasons she could not explain. Sharon was dressed simply, no big label glamour, no strange celebrity coldness. She hugged Maya only after asking, which Maya appreciated more than she expected.
"Long flight?" Sharon asked.
"Long enough for me to question every choice I have ever made."
"That sounds like international travel."
Maya looked around the lobby. "Is he here?"
"Dayo?"
Maya nodded too quickly.
"He is upstairs. Before that, I need to go through something with you. We have a small camera team here to document the prize visit, but you control what gets released. If at any point you say no, we keep it private."
Maya’s eyes widened. "Camera team?"
"Small. One main camera, one sound person. They won’t crowd you."
"I thought this was just... I don’t know what I thought."
Sharon lowered her voice. "You won because your cover reached people. We would like to document you receiving the prize, but the prize is not conditional on footage. You get the money and the meeting either way."
Maya studied her face.
That was when she began to relax.
A label trying to use her would not have said it that plainly.
"Okay," Maya said. "You can film. If I look ugly crying, you delete it."
Sharon smiled. "We can negotiate the crying."
"There may be a lot."
"We brought tissues."
"That sounds threatening."
Sharon led her upstairs.
The room they chose was not one of the large studios. It was smaller, with a couch, a piano, two microphones, and soft light from a high window. Maya noticed the camera first, then noticed how hard the crew was trying not to make her notice them. That made her smile despite herself.
On a low table near the couch was an envelope with her name on it.
Maya stopped.
"Is that..."
"The prize confirmation," Sharon said. "The transfer paperwork is inside. The money will go through today."
Maya touched the envelope but did not open it yet.
Ten thousand dollars was not a fantasy number to her. It had rent attached to it. Student loan payments. Her mother’s blood pressure medication. A car repair she had been ignoring. The internet had treated the cash prize like a fun detail beside meeting Dayo, but Maya knew exactly what it could do.
She blinked fast.
Sharon pretended to check something on her tablet.
That small mercy made Maya like her more.
The door opened.
Dayo came in without announcement.
Maya saw him and forgot every greeting she had rehearsed on the plane.
He wore a dark sweatshirt and jeans, looking less like the man on the O2 stage and more like someone who had escaped a meeting before anyone could hand him another report. He stopped just inside the room, read her panic correctly, and smiled in a way that did not ask her to perform excitement for him.
"Maya," he said. "Thank you for coming."
She stared at him.
Then she said, "I’m sorry, I know how to talk. I do it at work."
Dayo laughed. "That is good. I was worried London took it from you."
That broke something.
Maya laughed too, then covered her face for a second. "This is so embarrassing."
"It is not."
"It is. I have watched videos of you being normal in interviews and told myself I would be normal."
"That plan fails often."
"Good to know."
He pointed toward the couch. "Sit before your knees betray you."
"My knees have already did hehe."
She sat.
Dayo took the chair across from her instead of standing over her. Sharon remained near the side, close enough to help, far enough not to turn the moment into a briefing.
For a few seconds, Maya could only look at him. This was the face from the screen, the voice that had followed her into the chapel after a shift she still did not like thinking about. But here he was asking if she wanted water and looking at her envelope like he understood the money mattered.
"I need to say something before I become speechless," Maya said.
Dayo nodded.
"I didn’t post that video to win. I didn’t even know the challenge had become that big. One of the younger nurses kept talking about it, and I thought she was exaggerating because she exaggerates everything. She once told us a doctor looked like a vampire because he owned a black coat."
Dayo’s mouth twitched. "Was she wrong?"
Maya considered it. "No."
Sharon laughed quietly near the wall.
Maya took a breath. "That night was bad. I don’t want to talk about patient details, obviously, but it was bad. I heard the O2 version earlier, and the crowd stayed in my head. I went to the chapel because it was quiet. Then I sang because I didn’t know what else to do with myself."
Dayo’s expression changed, not dramatically, but enough that Maya felt he had truly heard her.
"You gave the song somewhere else to live," he said.
She looked down.
"I cracked on the line."
"I know."
"I hated that part."
"That was the part people needed."
Maya pressed her lips together.
The camera was there. She remembered it suddenly, then forgot it again because Dayo was not watching her like footage. He was watching her like a person who had handed him something fragile without realizing it.
"Do you want to sing it here?" he asked.
Maya let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I knew this was coming."
"You can say no."
"I know. That’s the problem. If you forced me, I could be angry and refuse. Since you’re being nice, I have to be brave."
"Terrible burden."
She stood before she could think herself out of it.
The sound engineer adjusted the microphone but did not fuss. Dayo moved to the piano and asked if she wanted the original key. Maya shook her head.
"Lower," she said. "Hospital chapel me was ambitious."
Dayo found the key after one soft chord.
Maya closed her eyes.
The first line came out thin.
She winced but kept going.
By the second phrase, her body remembered the song better than her nerves did. Dayo played gently, leaving spaces for her breath. He did not try to make the cover grand. The O2 crowd was not there this time, only memory, piano, and the small room. Her voice shook at the same place it had in the chapel, and this time she did not fight it.
When she finished, her hands were cold.
Dayo let the final chord fade.
Sharon wiped under one eye with her thumb and pretended she had an itch.
Maya stepped back from the mic. "That was terrifying."
Dayo looked at her. "It was good."
"You have to say that."
"No, I don’t. I own the building."
Maya laughed, then cried before she could stop herself.
"Oh, no," she said, embarrassed, wiping her face. "I hate this."
Sharon came over with tissues.
Dayo stayed where he was, giving her space.
"You don’t hate it," he said after a moment. "You hate that it is public."
Maya took a tissue. "Maybe."
"That part I understand."
She looked at him, and for the first time since entering the room, she forgot he was famous enough to bend traffic outside arenas.
"You do?"
"More than people think."
The door opened softly.
Maya turned, still holding the tissue.
Luna stood there.
She wore a cream sweater, her hair loose, face calm but not hidden. There was no dramatic entrance, no entourage, no announcement from Sharon. She simply entered the room like someone deciding to be brave in a quiet way.
Maya stared.
Then she whispered, "Oh."
Luna smiled a little. "Hi, Maya."
Maya’s eyes went wide. "You’re..."
She stopped herself, because what was she supposed to say? The hidden voice? The woman from the bridge? Dayo’s partner? The singer people had been arguing about for weeks?
Luna came closer. "I’m Luna."
"I know," Maya said quickly. "Sorry. I know."
Dayo rose from the piano but did not move between them.
Maya looked from Luna to Dayo and back again. "I replayed your part so many times."
Luna’s smile faded into something more vulnerable. "In Beautiful Things?"
"Yes. The bridge. I know everyone was trying to figure out if it was you. I didn’t know at first. I just knew the voice sounded..." Maya searched for the right word and hated every easy one that came to mind. "It sounded like somebody who had been quiet for a long time and didn’t want to make a big entrance."
Luna went still.
Maya immediately panicked. "I don’t mean that in a bad way."
"I know," Luna said.
"I mean, Dayo’s voice felt like he was holding the song up, but your voice made it feel less lonely. Like the song had another person inside it who understood the tired part."
The room became very quiet.
Dayo looked down at the piano keys.
Sharon stopped pretending to look at her tablet.
Luna sat slowly on the edge of the couch.
"The tired part," Luna repeated.
Maya nodded, now too far in to retreat. "That’s why I sang it after work. The live version had all these people screaming and crying, but your voice made it feel private somehow. I don’t know if that makes sense."
"It does," Luna said.
Her voice was soft enough that Maya almost missed it.
Dayo waited before speaking. "There is something we would like to ask you, but only if you are comfortable."
Maya looked nervous again. "Okay."
Luna glanced at him, then back at Maya. "I have music coming."
Maya straightened.
"We have not announced it yet," Luna continued. "It is personal. Maybe too personal, depending on which part of my courage is speaking today. There is one song we finished recently. Dayo thought you might understand it."
Maya looked at Dayo. "Me?"
"You understood the tired part," he said.
That answer reached her faster than praise would have.
Luna picked up a small remote from the table, then hesitated. "You do not have to react for us. If you hate it, please find a gentle way to lie."
Maya let out a shocked laugh. "I would never hate your song in front of you."
"See? That is exactly why I asked for a gentle lie."
The laugh loosened the room.
Dayo sat near the side, not beside Luna. Sharon made a small hand signal to the camera operator, who lowered the camera slightly. The footage would keep rolling, but the room no longer felt like a set.
Luna pressed play.
Only a short piece of Before the Door filled the speakers.
Piano first.
Then Luna’s voice, low and close.
Maya’s expression changed before the lyric reached the center. She leaned forward slightly, as if the sound had made the room smaller around her. When the line came, the one Dayo had marked from the beginning, Maya put a hand over her mouth.
"I was already walking before anyone saw the door."
The clip ended soon after.
Nobody spoke.
Maya kept looking at the speaker like it might continue if she waited politely enough.
Luna’s hand rested in her lap, fingers locked together.
Finally Maya turned to her.
"That is not a comeback song," she said.
Amanda, who had quietly entered during the playback and stood near the doorway, looked at her sharply.
Maya noticed and rushed to explain. "I mean, it is, but not like that. It doesn’t sound like you are announcing yourself. It sounds like you are talking to the version of you nobody clapped for."
Luna’s eyes filled.
Dayo felt the words land almost exactly where the song had been born.
Amanda stepped fully into the room, her face tight with emotion she was trying to manage. "That’s the best description anyone has given it."
Maya looked overwhelmed. "I should stop talking before I ruin it."
"No," Luna said. "Don’t."
Maya swallowed. "I think people need to hear that. Especially people who are tired of being congratulated only after they survive."
Luna looked away for a second.
Dayo saw her gather herself.
When she looked back at Maya, her voice was steady. "Thank you."
Maya nodded, but the tears had started again. "This is becoming a very wet meeting. I’m sorry."
Dayo reached for the tissue box and slid it across the table. "We planned poorly. We should have given you a towel."
Maya laughed through the tears.
Sharon watched the moment from the side and knew she had the bridge they had hoped for, though it did not feel like marketing anymore. It felt like proof that a listener could move from Beautiful Things to Luna without being dragged there by a headline.
After the recording stopped, Alice joined them in the editing room with Amanda, Sharon, Dayo, and Luna. Maya had been taken to lunch by one of the staff after giving written consent for the footage to be reviewed, not released blindly. She had also insisted on calling her mother before signing anything, which made Dayo like her even more.
The first rough edit took two hours.
Sharon built it carefully.
It opened with Maya’s hospital chapel video, not the viral count, not the challenge banner, just the low light and her tired face before she started singing. Then it cut to her entering JD Records, touching the envelope with her name on it, laughing awkwardly when she met Dayo, and singing the cover in the small room while Dayo played piano.
The edit stayed there longer than a normal teaser would have.
Then Luna entered.
Maya’s face changed.
The clip used her own words, trimmed but not twisted.
"Your voice made it feel less lonely."
Luna’s reaction followed. A small breath. Her eyes lowering. Nothing dramatic, which made it harder to look away.
Then came the piece of Before the Door.
Only one line.
"I was already walking before anyone saw the door."
The screen faded to black.
For a moment, nobody in the editing room spoke.
Alice stood with her arms folded, expression unreadable.
Amanda sat beside Luna, one hand resting over her own mouth.
Dayo watched Luna, not the screen.
Sharon turned from the workstation. "I left Dayo out of the final card."
Alice nodded. "Good."
Amanda looked at the last frame waiting on the timeline. "Show it."
Sharon clicked.
White text appeared over black.
Luna: The Door You Built
A smaller line appeared beneath it.
First teaser soon.
Luna stared at her name.
Dayo stayed where he was.
He could feel the room waiting to see if she would approve, and for once no one tried to fill the silence for her.
Luna read the card again.
Then she nodded.
"Use it," she said.
Amanda let out the breath she had been holding.
Alice’s face finally softened. "We will send Maya the final cut for approval before anything goes live."
"Good," Luna said.
Dayo stood and walked toward the door, stopping beside Sharon’s chair for a moment. "You kept it human."
Sharon looked tired but pleased. "Maya did most of the work."
"She did."
Outside the editing room, the building had settled into evening. Staff moved through the hallways with the softer pace that came after a long day of decisions. Somewhere downstairs, Wayne was arguing with an assistant about whether emotionally honest music required better snacks. Alice was already preparing release timing in her head. Amanda was texting Maya’s consent terms to legal with the intensity of a woman who trusted paperwork more than promises.
Luna came out last.
Dayo waited for her.
She stood beside him in the hallway, quiet for a while.
"She heard it," Luna said.
"Yes."
"I was scared she wouldn’t."
Dayo turned to her. "You were scared one listener would not understand an unreleased song?"
"Yes."
He smiled gently. "That sounds like an artist."
Luna looked down the hallway, then back toward the editing room where her name still sat on the paused screen.
"Maybe I am one again."
Dayo did not correct her.
He did not say she had always been one, even though he believed it. Some truths needed to arrive in a person’s own voice before anyone else touched them.
Behind them, Sharon played the final card one more time for export.
Luna: The Door You Built
The frame held for five seconds.
That was enough.
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