Damiano didn't sleep that night.
Not even a minute.
The weight of what he had hidden—what he had let grow like a shadow between him and Aaliyah—pressed hard against his chest. And it was Dove—or rather, her sudden absence—that finally pushed him to do what he had been fearing for days.
The next morning, Aaliyah walked into the living room with a deep frown.
There was no sign of Dove. She had simply… disappeared.
"She's not in her room," Aaliyah said, her voice tense. "She didn't leave a note. She's not answering her phone. Damiano… do you know anything?"
His stomach dropped.
It was now or never.
"Aaliyah… we need to talk," he murmured, avoiding her eyes, because if he looked at her he might fall apart.
She crossed her arms—defensive, impatient.
"Then talk."
Damiano took a deep breath… and confessed.
He told her everything that had happened that night when Dove, vulnerable and confused, had sought comfort from him. How he, broken by the growing distance with Aaliyah, didn't know how to stop it. How the guilt had eaten him alive afterwards.
How Dove had been the one insisting they keep it a secret to "protect Aaliyah."
Every word hit her like a blow to the chest.
Aaliyah stepped back. Then again. As if the walls were closing in around her.
"So you're telling me… you cheated on me? With my friend? With Dove?"
Her voice cracked—anger, betrayal, and a pain she didn't bother hiding.
Damiano lowered his head.
He didn't make excuses. He didn't blame anyone.
He simply accepted:
"Yes."
Aaliyah let out a broken, almost hysterical laugh. She covered her face with her hands, trying to hold back something she no longer had control of.
"I can't believe this… I can't. Dove was my sister. And you… you were the person I trusted most."
She left the room without looking back.
And Damiano didn't follow.
Because he knew if he did, he would break her even more.
⸻
Hours later, while Aaliyah still refused to speak to him and Dove remained missing, the group boarded a flight to Italy.
Twelve years had passed since the last time Damiano had walked through his homeland without hiding, without fear, without fame. Italy stretched out beneath him like a sweet, strange memory—one that hurt and healed at the same time.
The Måneskin team was restless too. This was their first official tour in Italy, something they had waited years for. Thomas, excited and seeking a new beginning, decided to move in with them temporarily.
"It'll be like living as a family," Thomas said as he dropped his backpack. "Well… a slightly chaotic one."
For the first time in days, Damiano managed a faint smile.
⸻
But the storm wasn't over yet.
Aaliyah avoided looking at him. Avoided being in the same room. Avoided even breathing near him. It was as if she had built a wall no one could cross.
Until one night, when Italy glowed through the window and the distant sound of fans filled the streets, she found him sitting on the couch—alone, eyes swollen.
"I didn't forgive you for you," Aaliyah said softly, firmly.
He looked up, surprised.
"I forgave you because I don't want to keep carrying this pain.
I forgave you because I love you… and because if I don't let this go, it'll destroy me.
But don't get it twisted, Damiano… this is going to take time to heal."
Damiano felt air return to his lungs.
It wasn't a happy ending.
It was a beginning—twisted, difficult, but real.
"I'll do whatever it takes to fix what I broke," he promised, and this time his voice didn't shake.
Aaliyah nodded.
She sat beside him without touching him.
There was a heavy silence between them.
But for the first time in days… it wasn't a silence of war.
It was the silence of two people who, though wounded, weren't ready to let go.
Meanwhile, somewhere in Italy…
Dove didn't answer.
She didn't call.
She didn't leave a single trace.
And her disappearance would be only the first echo of a much bigger storm that was about to rise.