A month.
Thirty days.
That's how long Aaliyah and Damiano had known each other.
Long enough to share late-night demos.
Long enough to talk about music until dawn.
Long enough for inside jokes, stolen glances, and the kind of silences that feel louder than any song.
But not long enough for him to say:
"I have a girlfriend."
Aaliyah kept replaying that fact as she walked out of the studio, each step heavier than the last. Everything between them suddenly felt different—sharper, more dangerous, less innocent than she once believed.
One month… and I didn't know the truth.
She stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall, breathing deeply as if that could steady her heart.
Behind her, inside the balcony, voices rose.
Inside the Balcony
Giorgia crossed her arms, eyes fixed on Damiano.
"So?" she asked, calm but cutting. "Are you going to explain what I just walked into?"
Damiano rubbed his temples. He looked exhausted—like the truth had been chasing him for weeks.
"She didn't know about you," he said first.
Giorgia blinked.
"But you knew."
Damiano swallowed hard.
"I was going to tell her."
"When?" Giorgia asked with a bitter laugh. "Before or after you recorded a love song together?"
"It's not a love song," he said quickly.
Giorgia arched an eyebrow.
The title TWO LOVERS echoed in both their minds.
"Really?" she snapped.
"Because it sure sounded like one."
Damiano looked away.
He didn't deny it.
He couldn't.
Aaliyah
She pressed her ear against the cold wall—not to spy, but because her body wouldn't move.
She didn't want to hear.
She couldn't help it.
Giorgia's voice broke through:
"Damiano… be honest with me. Do you have feelings for her?"
Aaliyah's breath caught.
A sharp ache hit her chest.
She closed her eyes.
Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it…
Damiano exhaled, long and shaking.
"I don't know," he said.
"But something is happening. And I can't pretend it's not."
Aaliyah felt the air leave her lungs.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Giorgia went silent—hurt, angry, betrayed.
And Aaliyah realized something terrifying:
She wasn't imagining anything.
The tension.
The connection.
The spark.
It was real.
Too real.
The Confrontation
Giorgia spoke again, softer but colder:
"You met her a month ago… and you're already like this? What does that say about us, Damiano?"
He didn't answer.
Silence.
Heavy.
Condemning.
Aaliyah's heart twisted—
this was never what she wanted.
She wasn't a thief.
She wasn't a villain.
She wasn't the type to fall for someone taken.
But here she was.
Hurting someone she had never meant to hurt.
Hurting herself even more.
She backed away from the wall, tears stinging her eyes.
I need to leave.
I need to cut this.
I need to end whatever this is before it destroys all of us.
But as she wiped her face and turned the corner—
Damiano walked out of the balcony, eyes searching, breath unsteady.
He saw her.
Their eyes met.
One month of almosts suddenly felt like they were crashing into reality.
"Aaliyah," he whispered.
But she shook her head.
"No… don't."
Her voice broke.
"You should go back to her."
And she walked away before he could see the tears fall.