Another reporter shifted direction, turning his microphone toward Coach Richard.

"Coach," he said, "earlier this year, swimming was in serious trouble. After the drug scandal, dozens of athletes were banned, disqualified, or removed from the Olympic scene. Many people believed the swimming events would collapse entirely."

Murmurs rippled through the press.

"You somehow managed to compile a list of new athletes," the reporter continued, "and not only that—you qualified more swimmers than the previous Olympic trials. You once said someone helped you make those decisions. You promised to reveal who it was."

Coach Richard nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

The reporters leaned in.

"So," another voice pressed, "who helped you? You said you would tell us the person after the Olympics, so we are all curious who that person is who assisted you?"

The reporters all looked at Richard, waiting eagerly for him.

Richard turned slightly and gestured toward Dayo.

"Him," he said.

For a moment, the press corridor froze.

"…Dayo?" someone repeated.

A wave of disbelief swept through the reporters.

"Wait—Dayo?"

"You mean this Dayo?"

"The same Dayo ?"

Microphones immediately swung back toward him.

"Is that true?"

"Dayo, did you actually help select Olympic swimmers?"

"How is that even possible?"

Dayo blinked, clearly not expecting the attention to swing back so sharply.

He glanced at Coach Richard.

"Coach?" he said quietly.

Richard gave a small nod. "Tell them."

Dayo exhaled.

"I didn't select people," he said calmly. "I just helped analyze."

"Analyze what?" a reporter asked quickly.

"Performance patterns," Dayo replied. "Past trials. Recovery times. Stress responses. Some athletes failed drug tests, but the system still needed replacements. I just looked at who could realistically survive the Olympic schedule."

Another reporter frowned. "But you weren't a professional swimmer then, and you ate no Coach even."

"I was an athlete, then I saw some athlete who I felt had potential," Dayo said evenly. "I understand body language and how to identify a few things people can't. It wasn't about fame. It was about who could endure."

The crowd buzzed louder.

"So you helped rebuild the Olympic swimming roster," someone said, stunned, "and you won three gold medals?"

"I didn't rebuild anything alone," Dayo corrected. "Coach Richard made the final decisions."

A reporter turned back to Richard.

"Coach, you trusted an unproven swimmer with something this important?"

Richard didn't hesitate.

"Yes," he said. "Because he saw things others didn't."

The microphones shifted again.

"Dayo," another reporter said, "does that mean you were analyzing Olympic-level athletes before you ever raced at the Olympics yourself?"

Dayo nodded once.

"Yes."

A silence followed—thick, heavy.

Then someone muttered, "That's insane."

Another voice followed. "That's unprecedented."

Coach Richard placed a hand lightly on Dayo's shoulder.

"This," Richard said, "is why I trusted him."

The reporters wanted to continue asking questions, but Dayo and Richard felt they had answered enough, and they moved.

Coach Richard smiled at Dayo. "Alright, Dayo, go and meet your family. I have other things to do."

"Alright, coach."

"Oh, wait," Richard said as he placed the gold medals on his neck.

"Good go now."

Dayo stepped away from the noise of the media zone, his ears still ringing from flashes, questions, and cameras. The further he walked, the quieter it became—until he reached the section where his people were waiting.

The moment Janet saw him, she screamed.

"DAYO!"

She didn't wait for security or space. She ran straight at him.

Dayo barely had time to open his arms before she crashed into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she kept repeating, laughing and almost crying at the same time. "You actually did it. You actually did it!"

Dayo laughed, holding her steady. "Careful, Janet. You're going to knock me over."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining. "Knock you over? After what you just did in that pool? Never."

Then her eyes dropped immediately to his chest.

"Wait." She pointed. "Give me that."

"Give you what?" Dayo asked, already knowing.

"The medals," she said quickly. "Let me see them. All of them."

Before he could respond, she reached up and touched one gently, like she was afraid it might disappear.

Jeffery stepped in next, grinning widely.

"Bro," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Three golds. You're not human, I didn't believe it before when you raced, but now seeing the gold, Crazy."

They clasped hands, pulling each other into their familiar signature handshake—one quick grip, a twist, then a pull-in shoulder bump.

Dayo laughed. "You're still doing that handshake?"

Jeffery scoffed. "We're never stopping that. Ever."

They separated, both smiling.

"You good?" Jeffery asked, lowering his voice slightly.

Dayo nodded. "I'm good. Tired, but… good."

Jeffery glanced at the medals again. "Worth it."

Before Dayo could reply, Alice and Wayne approached together.

Alice hugged him carefully, her voice warm. "We are so proud of you. You have no idea."

Wayne nodded beside her. "History, man. You didn't just win—you changed something."

Dayo smiled softly. "Thank you. Both of you."

Then Abishola stepped forward.

The moment Dayo saw his mother's face, something in him shifted.

She didn't rush. She didn't shout.

She simply opened her arms.

Dayo walked into them.

She held him tightly, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

"My son," she whispered. "You worked so hard."

Dayo closed his eyes for a moment. "I did it."

"Yes," she said, pulling back just enough to look at him. "You did."

Jason stood beside her, his expression calm but his eyes full.

Jason placed a hand on Dayo's shoulder. "You carried yourself well out there."

Dayo nodded. "I kept hearing your voice in my head."

Jason smiled faintly. "Good."

Janet suddenly cleared her throat dramatically.

"Okay," she said. "Before this turns into a family movie, I still haven't properly held the medals."

Dayo chuckled.

He reached up, unclasped the ribbons carefully, and held all three in his hands for a moment.

Then, without saying anything, he stepped closer to his parents.

He placed two medals gently around Abishola's neck.

Her eyes widened.

"Dayo—"

"And this one," he said quietly, turning to Jason, "is for you."

He placed the last medal in his father's hands.

Jason froze.

For a second, he said nothing.

Then his grip tightened around the medal.

"You don't have to—" Jason started.

"I want to," Dayo said. "I couldn't have done this without you both."

Abishola's eyes filled with tears. She touched the medals like they were fragile.

"This is too much," she whispered.

"No," Janet said softly, smiling. "It's perfect."

Jeffery nodded. "Yeah. It's right."

Alice lifted her phone instinctively. "We need a picture."

Wayne laughed. "Absolutely."

They gathered closer—parents in the center, Dayo beside them, Janet and Jeffery flanking, Alice,Valarey and Wayne just behind.

Abishola wiped her eyes quickly. "Wait. Let me look decent."

Dayo laughed. "You look fine, Mom."

Jason straightened slightly. "Everyone ready?"

The camera clicked.

Then again.

Then again.

When it was done, Abishola hugged Dayo once more, tighter than before.

"We surprised you," she said softly.

Dayo smiled. "Best surprise of my life."

Jason placed a hand on his back. "We'll talk more later."

Dayo nodded. "I'll come find you after everything settles."

Janet grinned. "We're not going anywhere."

Jeffery added, "You're stuck with us."

Dayo looked at all of them—his family, his people—and for the first time since the races ended, his breathing finally slowed.

"Good," he said. "I want you here."

And they stayed like that a moment longer—laughing, talking quietly, holding onto something that felt bigger than medals.

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