The moment Dayo stepped out of the private terminal, pulling his small travel bag behind him, he expected the familiar roar—fans screaming his name, banners lifted, cameras flashing in admiration. He expected warmth.
Instead, what he met was the complete opposite.
The very second the automatic doors slid open, a swarm of cameras and microphones slammed into his space like a wave crashing on a shore.
"Dayo! Dayo! Is it true you used performance enhancers?!"
"Jason! Why are you silent?!"
"Are you running from the investigation?!"
"Why aren't you addressing the leaked reports?!"
"Are the allegations against you true?."
"Dont you feel guilty about making Evan fail?."
Microphones were shoved at his chin. Cameras were pushed close to his face. Bags of equipment nearly hit his shoulder as everyone tried to get the angle. Reporters didn't even wait for his reaction—they talked over themselves, screaming accusations loudly enough for the entire airport to hear.
