The hospital room had finally gone quiet, but the world outside hadn't slowed down for a second. News channels kept looping the same clips, the same headlines, the same accusations—only now there was a new twist: the growing support for Aaliyah. The shift was small at first, almost unnoticeable, but Damiano saw it. And so did she.
Ethan, Victoria and Thomas had shown up early that morning. No cameras, no managers, no PR crew—just the three of them, walking in with tired eyes and worried faces.
Victoria: "We heard what happened. We're staying, okay? We're not leaving you two alone in this mess."
Thomas: "Anyone coming after her is coming after us too."
Ethan: "And if anyone says shit about the baby again, I'm personally flipping their car."
Aaliyah had tried to smile, but Damiano knew she was still shaken. Still hurting. Still afraid to breathe too deeply, afraid that any spike of stress could put their daughter in danger again.
But little by little, the room began to feel less like a battlefield.
And more like a shield.
The support didn't stop there. Fans started posting #RespectAaliyah, #WeStandWithHer, clips of her singing, praising her talent. Old interviews resurfaced showing her kindness, her professionalism, moments where she was clearly exhausted and still giving everything she had.
It wasn't a full redemption—too much had happened too fast—but it was the first time the world wasn't trying to tear her apart.
Damiano scrolled through the comments, stunned.
Damiano: "They're defending you. Look."
Aaliyah: "I don't know what to think. People change their minds so fast…"
Damiano: "Then let them. As long as they change it in the right direction."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, exhausted.
He kissed her hair gently, careful not to overwhelm her.
Later that afternoon, her doctor returned, calmer this time.
Doctor: "Her vitals look better today. But I'm repeating this as many times as necessary—stress is your enemy."
Damiano: "We'll protect her."
Doctor: "Good. Because the next few weeks are critical."
Aaliyah swallowed hard upon hearing that, but she nodded.
She was fighting.
For herself.
For their daughter.
When Maneskin stepped outside for a moment, the press swarmed them instantly.
Microphones. Cameras. Flashing lights.
The circus hadn't left—if anything, it had grown.
But this time, the band didn't stay quiet.
Victoria (firm): "Stop spreading lies about Aaliyah. She's not unstable. She's not dangerous. She's a human being and she's pregnant."
Thomas: "If you keep pushing this narrative, you're putting a child at risk."
Ethan: "Take responsibility for the damage you're causing."
Damiano: "And for the last time—she didn't ruin anything. She didn't lie. She didn't manipulate me. We love each other. End of story."
Reporters yelled more questions, but the band walked back inside, shielding Damiano from a pap who tried shoving a camera into his face.
For the first time ever, Damiano realized he wasn't fighting alone.
Inside the room, Aaliyah watched them re-enter, surprised.
Aaliyah: "You guys… said all that for me?"
Victoria: "Of course."
Ethan: "You're family now."
Thomas: "And we protect our own."
Her eyes softened, finally letting a small smile appear.
Something warm and hopeful settled in Damiano's chest.
He hadn't seen that smile in days.
As the night settled in, Damiano sat beside her bed, their hands intertwined.
Aaliyah: "Do you think things will calm down?"
Damiano: "Maybe not right away. But we're controlling the narrative now, not them."
Aaliyah: "…I just want peace. For her."
Damiano: "Then we'll make it happen. Even if we have to burn the whole industry to the ground."
She let out a quiet laugh—the first real one since everything collapsed.
The crisis wasn't over.
The world was still watching.
Enemies were still talking.
Rumors were still spreading.
But for the first time in a long time, the balance had shifted.
They had allies.
They had a plan.
They had each other.
And the world, whether it liked it or not, was beginning to understand one thing:
Aaliyah wasn't alone.