The crying turned sharp.

Not just fussy—panicked. Noa’s tiny face scrunched, breaths hitching between sobs, his body stiffening in her arms. Aaliyah felt it immediately, the fear rising fast and uncontrollable.

“No—no, no, no,” she whispered, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

Her hands started shaking.

People slowed. Some stared openly now. Someone muttered something under their breath as they passed. Aaliyah tried to rock him, bounce him, shush him—but the sounds coming from her baby only got louder, more desperate.

Her chest tightened.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said out loud, voice cracking, panic spilling over. “I don’t—please, please—”

Her breathing went uneven. Too fast. Her vision blurred.

That’s when a voice cut through the noise.

“Hey—hey. You’re okay. Look at me.”

She barely registered the man stepping closer, just enough to block the crowd without touching her. His tone was calm, grounding, like an anchor thrown into rough water.

“I’m right here,” he said. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Aaliyah looked up, tears streaking her cheeks, and recognized him in the same split second her panic tried to swallow her whole.

Drew Starkey.

But he didn’t act like someone famous. No confidence. No charm. Just concern etched into his face.

“What’s his name?” he asked gently.

“Noa,” she said quickly, clutching her baby closer like the world might take him if she loosened her grip. “He won’t stop crying and everyone’s staring and I—I can’t breathe—”

“Okay,” Drew said immediately. “Okay. Aaliyah, right?”

She nodded, surprised he knew.

“Listen to me,” he said, lowering his voice. “Babies cry. Sometimes they cry because everything is new and loud and scary. And right now, you’re overwhelmed, so he feels it too.”

Her breaths came out shaky.

“I don’t know how old he’s supposed to—what he’s supposed to do,” she admitted, shame flooding her. “I’m doing this alone.”

Drew shook his head softly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

He glanced around, noticing the eyes, the whispers.

“Let’s move over there,” he suggested, pointing to a quieter spot near a building. “I’ll walk with you. I won’t touch him. I promise.”

She hesitated only a second before nodding.

Each step felt heavy, but once she sat down, once the noise dulled just a little, Noa’s cries started to break into softer sounds—small gasps, tiny hiccups.

Aaliyah covered her mouth and sobbed.

“I’m scared I’m messing him up already,” she whispered.

Drew stayed standing, close but respectful.

“You’re not,” he said firmly. “You stopped. You protected him. You asked for help—even if you didn’t mean to.”

Noa’s fingers curled around the edge of her shirt.

For the first time since the panic hit, Aaliyah felt her chest loosen.

She wasn’t invisible.

She wasn’t failing.

And somehow, in the middle of the street, with a crying newborn and a stranger who just happened to be famous, she wasn’t alone.