Aaliyah walked out of the studio before Damiano could reach her, her steps fast, almost frantic, as if the hallway itself were closing in on her. The ultrasound photo was crushed in her fist, her vision blurry, her breathing uneven. Everything felt too loud, too bright, too heavy.
She didn't stop until she reached the back exit of the building.
Cold air hit her face.
She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to quiet her racing heart.
Inside, she could hear shouting.
Victoria's voice.
Damiano's voice.
Something slammed — a door, a chair, she couldn't tell.
"Damiano, calm down!" someone yelled.
But she couldn't go back in.
Not yet.
Maybe not at all.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
150 new notifications.
Headlines.
Mentions.
Articles in Italian calling her everything except her name.
One caught her eye:
"Aaliyah: The Woman Destroying Måneskin?"
Her breath hitched.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She was about to shut off her phone when another notification popped up — a message from an unknown number.
"If you care about him, leave Italy before this gets worse."
Her stomach dropped.
She didn't know if it was a threat, a warning, or both.
Before she could process it, the back door flew open behind her.
Damiano stepped out, breathless, hair messy from running his hands through it a hundred times. His eyes scanned the alley until he found her.
"Aaliyah."
Her name came out soft, desperate, cracked open.
She turned away.
"Aaliyah… please."
He walked closer, slow, as if she were something fragile he was afraid to break.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice raw. "I should've defended you. I just— I froze."
"You didn't freeze," she whispered. "You hesitated."
He closed his eyes like the word physically hurt him.
When he looked at her again, he stepped closer until there were only inches between them.
"I'm doing my best," he said quietly. "I swear I am."
"Your best almost broke me today," she replied, her voice trembling.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Until Damiano did.
He reached out, his hand brushing her arm, so gently she almost didn't feel it.
But when she tensed, he stopped — fingers hovering near her skin, wanting but not daring to touch.
"Aaliyah, look at me."
She didn't.
So he stepped in front of her gently, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"What the press is saying, what my band is saying… none of that compares to what I feel for you. None of it."
She swallowed hard, fighting back emotion.
"You don't have to protect me," she said. "You just have to choose me."
His breath caught in his throat.
"I did," he said. "The moment I saw that ultrasound today… I chose you both."
She looked away, tears burning at the corners of her eyes.
"And your band?" she asked quietly. "Your career?"
He hesitated.
Not long.
But long enough.
And that single second was a blade.
Aaliyah stepped back again, pain flashing across her face.
Damiano's chest constricted. "Aaliyah, please don't—"
"I can't be the reason your world falls apart."
"You're the reason my world means something!" he shot back.
The words hit hard.
Too intense.
Too honest.
He reached for her again, and this time she didn't move, didn't stop him. His hands cupped her jaw softly, his forehead lowering to hers.
Their breaths tangled.
Their lips hovered a heartbeat apart — not kissing, but burning in the space between.
"Aaliyah," he whispered, "I love you. I love you more than I know how to handle."
Her eyes closed, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
But before she could respond, loud voices echoed from inside the building — reporters who had somehow slipped past security.
"THERE! THEY'RE OUTSIDE!"
"GET THE PHOTO—!"
"DAMIANO, LOOK HERE—!"
Cameras flashed wildly as the back door burst open.
Damiano moved instantly, shielding her with his body, but the damage was already done.
Aaliyah pulled away, heart pounding, panic consuming her.
"No," she whispered. "I can't do this. Not like this."
She turned and walked — fast — away from him, from the cameras, from the chaos, from everything.
"Aaliyah!" Damiano shouted, trying to break past the reporters. "Aaliyah, WAIT!"
But she didn't.
She didn't even look back.
And as she disappeared down the alley, the ultrasound photo slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the ground.
Damiano stared at it like it was the last piece of his soul.
And maybe it was.