A DAY OF REST.... OR ALMOST

The Kinshasa sun filtered through the curtains of the luxurious hotel where the team was staying. After the intensity of the previous night, everything felt strangely calm that morning.

In the breakfast room, Diego walked in, looking relaxed, a cup of coffee in his hand.

He sat down across from Dylan, who was sipping on an orange juice.

— "Great job last night," Diego said with a smile. "The crowd loves you. And you were exceptional."

Dylan simply nodded, not really smiling.

A few minutes later, Ryder, Daniella, and Andréa entered, visibly still tired from the previous night.

Diego tapped on the table.

— "Today, full rest," he announced. "No interviews, no rehearsals. Enjoy the city. Relax."

A sigh of relief swept through the group.

— "Thank you, Diego," Daniella said gratefully.

— "We really needed that," added Ryder, yawning.

Diego shrugged.

— "But be careful. Kinshasa loves Dylan now. You might get a little... overwhelmed."

He gave Dylan a pointed look, but Dylan remained silent.

**

After breakfast, everyone decided to explore the city in their own way.

Daniella wanted to visit some craft shops. Ryder and Andréa wanted to try traditional dishes.

Dylan, on his side, decided to walk alone through the busy streets.

But the moment he stepped outside, the nightmare (or dream) began.

He had barely walked fifty meters when a young girl recognized him.

— "It's Dylan! It's really him!" she screamed.

In an instant, a crowd formed around him.

Dozens of teenagers, adults, and children rushed in, waving papers, phones, and notebooks.

— "An autograph, please!"

— "A picture! Dylan, over here!"

— "I love you, Dylan!"

Caught off guard, Dylan managed a small smile. He agreed to sign a few autographs.

Fans were pushing, shouting his name. The whole street seemed to vibrate with his presence.

**

Further away, Daniella, Ryder, and Andréa were watching the scene.

They had stayed back, forgotten by the crowd that paid no attention to them.

— "They don't even recognize us," Andréa murmured, a little hurt.

— "They only want Dylan," added Ryder, his tone bitter.

Daniella felt a pang in her heart.

She watched Dylan, surrounded by fans, his face serious, almost cold.

He hadn't even tried to call them over to share the moment.

"He's really becoming someone else..." she thought sadly.

**

For nearly an hour, Dylan signed autographs, posed for photos, and accepted gifts.

He tried to stay polite, but deep down, he felt a strange exhaustion.

Fame tasted bitter today.

When he finally managed to escape the crowd, he found Diego waiting for him by a black car.

— "I warned you," Diego said with a soft laugh. "They're crazy about you here."

— "It was exhausting," Dylan admitted as he climbed into the car.

**

Meanwhile, Ryder, Daniella, and Andréa had settled in a small café, a little out of the way.

They spoke in low voices.

— "Do you think he's forgetting us?" Andréa asked.

— "I don't know... He's different," Daniella replied.

— "He's too busy playing the star," Ryder said, more sharply.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

**

That evening, back at the hotel, Diego gathered everyone in a meeting room.

— "Tomorrow, we go back to rehearsals," he announced. "A new concert is coming up. And it needs to be even better than yesterday's."

Everyone nodded.

Dylan remained silent, staring at an invisible point in front of him.

**

After the meeting, Dylan went straight to his room.

Closing the door behind him, he collapsed onto his bed, exhausted.

He thought about the looks on his friends' faces earlier that day.

He had seen the disappointment, the jealousy, the sadness in their eyes.

But he no longer knew what to do.

"I never asked for all this," he thought.

"I just wanted to sing. Just live my dream."

He clenched his fists.

His heart ached with loneliness.

**

Meanwhile, in another room, Daniella, Ryder, and Andréa were talking quietly.

— "We need to talk to Diego," Andréa said. "We can't go on like this."

— "And tell him what?" Daniella replied. "That we're jealous? That we can't stand Dylan being loved more than us?"

— "No," Ryder said. "But maybe we could ask for more songs for ourselves. More visibility."

They looked at each other, hesitant.

Deep down, they all knew the dynamic had changed for good.

Dylan now shone alone.

And they... they were struggling not to be left in the shadows.

**

In the dark night of Kinshasa, each of them, in their respective rooms, tossed and turned, unable to find sleep.

Success had a price.

And it was heavier than they had ever imagined.