Fear doesn't disappear.
It learns how to hide.
Damiano Behind the Curtain
Damiano stopped fighting the spotlight the day he realized it was no longer where he was needed most.
Instead of stages and cameras, he stepped into rooms with closed doors.
Lawyers.
Producers.
People who spoke in contracts instead of applause.
He became the voice no one expected.
Firm.
Protective.
Unmovable.
When a network tried to push a narrative about Estrella's "instability," Damiano shut it down before it reached air.
When a magazine asked for "exclusive access," he said no without explanation.
When a producer suggested Thomas should "distance himself," Damiano leaned forward and replied calmly:
"Then you don't get any of us."
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was power used quietly.
For the first time, Damiano wasn't performing.
He was building walls where they were needed.
Aaliyah and the Fear That Stays
Aaliyah stood alone in the bathroom one morning, staring at her reflection.
She looked strong.
Put together.
Unbreakable, if the world was asked.
But her hands still shook sometimes.
Still checked Estrella's breathing at night.
Still flinched when phones rang too late.
Loss had rewired her.
The doctors had said it wasn't her fault.
Everyone had.
But fear doesn't listen to logic.
It whispers instead.
What if it happens again?
What if you can't protect her?
She pressed her palm to her chest, breathing through it.
"I'm still here," she whispered to herself.
Not healed.
But standing.
And that would have to be enough.
The House
Thomas didn't tell anyone at first.
He just drove Estrella out of the city one afternoon, past the noise, past the memories tied to headlines and hospitals.
The house wasn't extravagant.
It wasn't hidden either.
It was quiet.
Sunlit.
Real.
A place where mornings could exist without cameras.
Where fear wouldn't echo off white hospital walls.
"For us," he said simply.
Estrella froze.
"For… now?" she asked softly.
"For whatever comes," Thomas replied.
"No pressure. No locks. Just somewhere that's ours if you want it."
She cried then.
Not because of the house.
Because for the first time, the future felt like something solid instead of something threatening.
The News
The appointment was routine.
Too routine.
Estrella lay back, half-listening, half-distracted—until the doctor paused.
Then smiled.
"Well," she said carefully, "that explains a lot."
Thomas straightened instantly.
Aaliyah's breath caught.
"Explains what?" Estrella asked.
The doctor turned the screen.
"There are two heartbeats."
Silence.
"One boy," she continued, pointing gently.
"And one girl."
Time stopped.
Twins.
A mirror of balance.
A doubling of fear—and love.
Estrella laughed first.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
Thomas sat down because his legs stopped working.
Damiano closed his eyes.
Aaliyah covered her mouth, tears streaming freely—not from pain this time, but from something close to hope.
The Warning
The joy didn't last long.
Estrella shifted uncomfortably, a sharp tightening pulling low in her abdomen.
She frowned.
"That feels… different."
The doctor's expression changed—not alarmed, but alert.
"Those are contractions," she said calmly.
"Early ones. You're not in labor—but your body is asking you to slow down."
Thomas went pale.
"Is she—are they—"
"They're okay," the doctor assured.
"But this is serious. Stress, travel, pressure—it all matters now."
Estrella swallowed hard.
Reality settled in.
The story wasn't over.
It was just becoming heavier.
Closing Scene
That night, Estrella lay in bed, Thomas beside her, one hand resting protectively over her stomach.
Two lives.
One future.
And fear still present—but quieter now.
Aaliyah stood in the doorway, watching them breathe, memorizing the moment.
Damiano leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyes soft.
Nothing was guaranteed.
But they were still standing.
Still choosing each other.
Still here.
And for now—
That was enough.