Aaliyah was still replaying the last take of Two Lovers when Damiano stepped out of the booth.
His voice blended with hers so perfectly that it made her chest ache—not with pain, but with something dangerously close to longing.
She tried to ignore it.
Tried to stay professional.
Tried to be normal.
But the way he kept looking at her…
It didn't feel normal at all.
He sat beside her, shoulder almost brushing hers as they listened to the track again.
When the chorus hit, he whispered:
"We sound… good together."
Aaliyah felt her pulse jump.
"Yeah. We do."
He turned slightly, studying her like she was a lyric he couldn't quite understand.
"Aaliyah," he said softly, "there's something I—"
But he didn't finish.
Because the door opened.
Suddenly.
Abruptly.
A woman stepped inside, holding a small bag of food and a set of keys.
Dark hair, elegant posture, eyes that noticed everything at once.
Aaliyah straightened immediately.
Damiano froze.
"Dami," the woman said in Italian-accented English, "I brought you lunch—oh."
Her eyes shifted to Aaliyah.
Then to the headphones.
Then to Damiano's face, which had gone pale.
Aaliyah forced a polite smile.
"Hi… I'm Aaliyah."
The woman nodded, smiling in that calm way only confident people do.
"I'm Giorgia," she said. "His girlfriend."
Aaliyah blinked.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
The word hit her like a chord played too loud.
She looked at Damiano, expecting him to correct it—say ex, friend, assistant, anything.
But he didn't say a word.
Silence.
Heavy.
Painful.
Aaliyah's breath caught.
She stepped back from the desk, heart dropping to her stomach.
"I… didn't know," she whispered, mostly to herself.
Giorgia tilted her head politely.
"You're working together, yes?"
Aaliyah nodded, trying to smile even as her chest felt tight.
"Yes. Just… recording."
"Good," Giorgia said, placing the bag gently on a table.
She kissed Damiano's cheek.
He didn't kiss back.
The tension in the room was suffocating.
Aaliyah grabbed her notebook quickly.
"Well, I should give you two some space."
Damiano reached out, grabbing her wrist—not hard, just enough to stop her.
"Aaliyah—wait."
She froze.
But she didn't turn around.
He lowered his voice, nearly trembling.
"I should've told you."
She pulled her hand away slowly.
"Yeah," she whispered. "You should have."
Giorgia watched the exchange carefully, confusion in her eyes.
And Aaliyah walked out of the studio before either of them could say another word—
before the hurt in her voice could turn into anything else.
As she stepped into the hallway, one thought echoed in her mind:
Two Lovers wasn't just a song anymore.
It was a warning.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to know how it ended.