Morning arrived quietly, almost cruel in how normal it felt.
Rome was awake. Traffic hummed. Church bells rang somewhere far away. Life kept moving, unaware that inside a small bathroom, Estrella's world was about to crack open.
She stared at the test in her hand.
Then at the mirror.
Then back at the test.
Two lines.
Clear. Undeniable.
Her breath hitched as if the air had suddenly left the room. Her fingers trembled so badly she had to sit on the edge of the bathtub before her knees gave out.
"No," she whispered.
Not denial.
Fear.
Her phone buzzed on the sink.
Thomas.
She didn't answer.
Her mind raced backward — flashes of the last weeks, the stolen moments, the way everything felt too fast and too intense to be safe. The way she had wanted to feel older, braver, in control.
Now control was gone.
She pressed her hand to her stomach, barely touching, like she was afraid of acknowledging what was already there.
A knock echoed through the apartment.
"Estrella?" Aaliyah's voice, gentle but alert. "Are you okay? You've been in there a while."
Estrella swallowed hard.
"I— I'm coming."
She hid the test in a towel, then stopped.
No.
She pulled it back out.
This wasn't something that could be hidden.
Not in this family.
When she opened the door, Aaliyah took one look at her face and knew something was wrong.
"Hey," Aaliyah said softly. "What happened?"
Estrella held out the test.
Her hand shook.
For a moment, Aaliyah didn't move.
Then she looked down.
And the color drained from her face.
The silence between them was deafening.
"Oh my God…" Aaliyah whispered.
Estrella's voice cracked.
"I didn't plan this. I swear. I didn't— I thought I was being careful."
Aaliyah closed her eyes for a second, breathing deeply, grounding herself. When she opened them again, her gaze was filled with something heavier than anger.
Fear.
"Does Thomas know?" she asked quietly.
Estrella shook her head.
"No. You're the first person I've told."
Aaliyah reached for her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Estrella broke instantly, tears soaking into her mother's shoulder.
"I'm scared," Estrella sobbed. "I don't know what to do."
Aaliyah held her tighter.
"I know," she whispered. "I know."
But even as she comforted her daughter, Aaliyah's mind was already spiraling — the media, Damiano, the past repeating itself in a way that felt almost cruelly poetic.
And Damiano…
As if summoned by the thought, the front door opened.
Footsteps.
Damiano's voice echoed from the hallway.
"I'm home—"
He stopped when he saw them.
Estrella's red eyes.
Aaliyah's pale face.
The tension in the air.
"What's going on?" he asked slowly.
Aaliyah looked at Estrella, silently asking permission.
Estrella nodded, barely.
Aaliyah turned to Damiano.
"She's pregnant."
The words landed like a gunshot.
Damiano didn't speak.
Didn't move.
His jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.
"Who?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Aaliyah didn't say the name.
She didn't have to.
Damiano turned away, running a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. Rage, fear, guilt — all of it colliding at once.
"She's eighteen," he said, voice low and shaking. "Eighteen."
Estrella flinched.
"I love him," she whispered.
That was what broke him.
Damiano stopped pacing and faced her, his eyes glassy.
"Love doesn't protect you from consequences," he said, not cruel — devastated.
Outside, cameras flashed somewhere down the street.
Inside, a family stood at the edge of another storm.
And none of them knew yet…
This was only the beginning.