Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unforgiving at the same time.
Estrella sat on the edge of her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing. Rome was waking up outside—cars, voices, life continuing as if nothing had shifted overnight. But everything inside her had.
What happened with Thomas the night before wasn't something she could bury.
Not anymore.
She found Aaliyah in the kitchen, standing barefoot by the counter, coffee untouched in her hands. She looked composed—almost too composed—like someone who had learned how to wear strength like armor.
—Mom… —Estrella said quietly.
Aaliyah turned. One look at her daughter's face was enough. She set the cup down slowly.
—What is it?
Estrella swallowed. Her throat felt tight, like the truth was physically fighting its way out.
—I need to tell you something. And I need you to hear it all… before you react.
That alone made Aaliyah tense.
They sat across from each other. The space between them felt heavier than any silence they'd shared before.
Estrella took a breath.
—Something happened with Thomas. Last night.
Aaliyah didn't interrupt. She didn't move. Her eyes stayed fixed, sharp, alert.
—We crossed a line.
The words landed hard.
—I'm eighteen. He's twenty-four. It wasn't forced. It wasn't a mistake made out of confusion. It was… real. And that's what scares me.
Aaliyah closed her eyes briefly, as if steadying herself.
—Did Damiano know? —she asked calmly, too calmly.
—No. And that's why I'm telling you. Because I don't want secrets to rot this family from the inside.
Her voice cracked despite her effort to stay strong.
—I care about him. More than I should. And I know how wrong the timing is. I know how it looks. I know what it could do to you… to Dad… to everything.
Aaliyah stood up slowly, walked to the window, and stared out at the city. When she spoke again, her voice was controlled—but shaken underneath.
—Thomas crossed a line he should have never approached.
—Mom— —Estrella stood too— —I crossed it too. Please don't make this only about him.
That stopped Aaliyah cold.
She turned back.
—Do you think I'm angry because of morality? Or age alone? —Aaliyah asked. —I'm angry because you've lived your entire life surrounded by adults who forget how powerful their influence is.
Her voice softened slightly.
—And because you're my daughter.
Estrella's eyes filled.
—I didn't come to ask permission. I came because I love you enough not to lie.
The door opened behind them.
Damiano.
He froze the moment he sensed the tension.
—What's going on?
Aaliyah didn't look at him.
—Your daughter just told me the truth.
That was enough.
Damiano's face drained of color.
—What truth?
Estrella turned to him, heart pounding.
—Me and Thomas.
Silence.
Then something in Damiano snapped—not loud, not explosive—but dangerous in its quiet.
—Get him. Out of my sight. Now.
—Dad— —
—Not a word. —His voice was low, shaking with restraint. —I trusted him. I trusted both of you to understand the line between protection and desire.
Aaliyah stepped between them instinctively.
—This doesn't get solved with rage.
Damiano laughed bitterly.
—No. But it started with betrayal.
Estrella felt the weight of it crash down on her chest.
—I'm not ashamed —she said firmly, tears finally falling. —But I won't be silent either.
That stopped him.
Damiano looked at her—really looked—and for the first time, the anger gave way to fear.
Fear of losing her.
Fear of what the world would do with this truth.
Fear of realizing she wasn't a child anymore.
Outside, phones buzzed.
Notifications exploded.
The media was already circling.
And somewhere across the city, Thomas stood alone, staring at his phone, knowing the truth was out—and nothing would ever be the same again.
The line had been crossed.
And now the consequences were coming.