Luna leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief, her body still feeling hot from the night before. Emotionally and physically, she felt both exhausted and fulfilled. Although Dayo had made it clear he didn't want anything serious, Luna wasn't discouraged. She believed she could change that with time. That thought alone brought a small, content smile to her lips.
The dining table was still full of the buffet Dayo had prepared for her: eggs, toast, fruit, and even a pot of fresh coffee. The gesture warmed her more than she cared to admit.
Just as she was about to sit and eat a slice of the toast, a knock sounded at the door. Without looking up, she already knew who it was.
"Amanda, come in. The door's open," Luna called, her voice light.
Amanda walked in, her sharp eyes immediately looking towards the table where Luna sat. "Wow, this looks like a hotel order," she teased. Then her tone shifted, curious. "So… where's Dayo? I thought he was leaving today?"
Luna, distracted, answered without thinking. "Oh, he just left my place this morning for the airport."
The second the words left her lips, Luna froze. Her eyes widened slightly, as though she'd just betrayed a deep secret.
Amanda's brows shot up. "Wait… don't tell me you and him…"
Luna's face flushed red, as red as ripe tomatoes. She turned away quickly, but that alone was enough to answer the question.
Amanda's jaw dropped, then she grinned. As Luna's friend, she was thrilled, but as her agent, the situation made her a little wary, as Dayo, even though talented, wasn't of Luna's caliber or status. Still, in this moment, the gossip was irresistible. "So… how was it?" she asked, leaning closer with a mischievous glint.
"Amanda!" Luna yelped, her embarrassment peaking as she scrambled to her feet. "I'm not telling you that!"
Amanda burst into laughter, chasing her friend around the living room like they were teenagers again. "Come on, you can't just drop that bomb and run!"
Luna was just about to protest again when Amanda's phone buzzed loudly on the dining table. She paused mid-chase, saying, "One sec—this might be important."
She swiped the screen, only for her expression to turn from curiosity to outright shock. "Oh my God, Luna… you need to see this."
The TV was switched on in an instant, the sound of CNN filling the apartment. A breaking news banner flashed across the screen:
"SINGER JD ATTACKED AT HEATHROW AIRPORT."
Both women froze. The broadcast cut to shaky but clear footage from multiple phones — Dayo in the middle of a crowd, singing with a guitar, and fans around. Then, all of a sudden, chaos erupted as he was attacked. It then showed Dayo shielding a girl, blood spotting his sleeve. The camera caught every move, the way he quickly disarmed the attacker with his fluid motion, and the way he dropped both attackers in less than four minutes.
The anchors' voices layered over the footage: "Fans at the Heathrow airport watched in shock as Dayo, also known as JD, was attacked by two unidentified men… astonishingly, he fought them off, protecting a lady from getting hurt as we can see from the footage provided… authorities are investigating the motive…"
Luna's hand flew to her mouth as her breath spiked. Her chest tightened. Then she muttered, "Oh Dayo, please be safe."
Amanda dropped onto the couch, wide-eyed. "This looks like a movie. Luna, he saved that girl, but look at his arm, he's bleeding! What the hell is happening?"
Luna grabbed her phone in a panic, already dialing with her trembling fingers. "I have to call him, my gosh, he was bleeding."
The line rang. Once. Twice. No answer. She tried again, fingers shaking.
"Pick up, JD. Please, pick up," she whispered.
"Luna, calm down. We saw that he is fine, okay? Just take a deep breath," Amanda said, trying to steady her.
***
The sting of antiseptic burned against his arm as a medic wrapped the wound tightly in white gauze. JD winced but kept still, his eyes moving toward the flashing lights of police cars outside the now-secured terminal window.
"You're lucky it wasn't deeper," the medic muttered. "A couple of stitches and you'll be fine. But try not to fight anyone else this week, alright?"
JD gave a dry chuckle. "Wasn't exactly on my schedule."
The medic smiled faintly.
An officer approached him. "Mr. JD, once you're done here, we'll need your statement." His tone softened. "I have to say… I've never seen someone move like that. You trained? Martial arts?"
JD tilted his head, giving a small smile. "Something like that."
The officer raised his brows but didn't push further. "Alright then. Let's make this official. We'll take your statement."
JD was led into a quieter room, where the officer supervisor was waiting, who was much older. After taking JD's statement, the supervisor nodded. "This lines up with the witnesses. You did well, son. Saving that girl, not many would have the courage to do that. We'll finalize this and let you go. Heathrow's on high alert now."
Before JD left, the first officer approached him again, scratching the back of his neck almost shyly.
"This might sound unprofessional, but… my daughter's a huge fan. Do you mind signing this for her?" He held out a small notepad.
JD chuckled despite his exhaustion and the sting in his arm. He scribbled his autograph. "Tell her to keep believing in herself. And thanks for having my back."
The officer's eyes softened as he shook JD's hand firmly. "No, thank you. You didn't just defend yourself — you protected others. Not every star would do that. You've got my respect."
Just then, his supervisor, who had been finishing up paperwork nearby, stepped closer. "Mr. JD, before you go, since you asked earlier about the attackers, here's what we've got so far. During interrogation, they claimed they were just die-hard fans of Luna. And they feel you are not worthy enough for Luna. That's their story for now. But we're digging deeper, seeing if someone else might've pushed them."
JD nodded slowly, surprised a bit. "Fans of Luna, huh? Keep me updated if anything changes."
The supervisor gave him a short nod. "We will."
JD slipped his jacket carefully over his injured arm. Outwardly, he looked calm, but inside, his anger simmered. Whoever was behind this wasn't getting away with it
***
Within minutes after the incident, hashtags like #JDatHeathrow, #HeroJD, #AirportAttack were trending worldwide. Clips of him shielding the girl, blood staining his sleeve, and dropping the attackers were replayed across platforms.
BBC called it: "A shocking but heroic scene at Heathrow."
The Guardian wrote: "Pop's newest star proves he's no ordinary celebrity — JD protects a fan from being attacked."
TMZ splashed: "Is JD a Singer or Secret Agent?"
Twitter buzzed with disbelief:
"This looks so staged, I mean, man, come on."
"I think so too. What's the possibility that when the hype of their song is just settling, this happens?"
"Yup, smells like conspiracy."
"Fake blood, 100% PR stunt."
"There's no way this wasn't staged. Too clean, too perfect."
"Nah, watch it again — that's adrenaline and instinct. Man's a real-life superhero."
"This guy is a magnet for attention. First the FIFA anthem, now this? His career looks like a movie script."
Some doubters called it a publicity stunt. Others insisted no one could fake the blood on his sleeve or the panic in the fans' screams. Either way, the world was watching, and millions were suddenly searching his name.
JD flexed his fingers against the bandage, letting out a low sigh. He hated the whole situation. He hadn't asked for this kind of attention. All he wanted was to go home, focus on Lois' album, see the family he missed, and prepare for the FIFA opening ceremony.
It wasn't that he was against attention, but from his past experience as a producer, he knew how it worked: attention like this always came with hate. Nobody liked a rookie who stood out too much—especially one without a powerful backer.
That kind of spotlight only made him a bigger target, a sacrificial lamb others could use to make themselves more popular.
He turned to the officer. "I want to leave the UK immediately. Tonight, if possible."
The officer blinked. "You sure? We can provide protection until—"
JD cut him off. "It's not about safety. I've got work waiting — Lois' album, the FIFA ceremony, my family. I'm not stalling here. Whoever planned this won't get the satisfaction of slowing me down."
The officer studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "We'll clear you for departure once the paperwork's done."
JD slipped his jacket carefully over his injured arm. Outwardly, he was calm, but inside, his anger simmered. Coming into this world, he only wanted to sing, to enjoy music — but now, someone had crossed the line. And that meant war, one he was prepared to give.
His gut told him the truth — this had Philip written all over it. No one else would dare, and no one else had the motive to pull something this reckless.
And for that, there would be consequences.
Back at Luna's apartment, Amanda lowered the TV volume. CNN replayed the footage on loop.
Luna sat upright, her back straight, her phone clenched tightly in her hand. She wasn't crying, not fully, but the glint of moisture in her eyes betrayed the storm inside. Her expression was controlled and strong, but her lips trembled faintly as she whispered:
"Just be safe, Dayo."
Amanda squeezed her hand gently. "He will."