It had been less than 12 hours since Isadora opened her eyes.
And now?
The sidewalk outside the hospital was packed. Paparazzi. Reporters. Even a few fans holding signs and posters.
“TOM & IAS 4EVER”
“OUR PUNK PRINCESS IS STRONGER THAN DEATH”
“STAY AWAY FROM TOXIC HATERS 💔”
Camera flashes burst nonstop, even from across the parking lot. Security had doubled.
Inside, it wasn’t much calmer.
Phones were ringing off the hook. Someone from Phantom Youth’s label was already in the lobby, pacing in sunglasses.
Tom and Bill’s manager, David, was talking to Teresa and Simone — Tom’s mom — in the hallway with a tone that could only mean damage control.
A draft was sent around to the teams — Phantom Youth’s manager, Tokio Hotel’s label rep, and the lawyers.
> “We ask for privacy and peace during this difficult time. Isadora Almeida is recovering and surrounded by love and support. We will continue to protect her mental and emotional well-being as investigations continue.”
It sounded cold.
Corporate.
Tom hated it.
“She’s not in some charity case,” he muttered. “She’s not just recovering. She’s fighting like hell.”
His mom put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They’re doing what they can, sweetheart.”
But he knew they were all just trying to keep things quiet — to keep the public from digging deeper into what really happened.
The two moms sat beside each other for the first time since the crash.
“She loves your son,” Ana, said softly, brushing her daughter’s hair back.
Simone smiled gently. “And Tom… God, he hasn’t slept. Not one second.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Simone leaned in.
“They’ll never be able to stay quiet about it,” she said quietly. “It’s written all over them.”
That night, the hospital cleared out. Nina finally went home to shower. Their managers agreed to delay press conferences until Isadora could speak.
Tom was given twenty minutes alone in her room.
She looked better. Pale, sure. But warmer. Her voice had returned a little, and her eyes weren’t as heavy.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Are you?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “I’ve had… weirder weeks.”
She laughed. “Same.”
He pulled a small velvet pouch from his hoodie pocket.
“What’s that?”
He dumped it in her lap — colorful stones, cheap glass beads, and string.
“I asked the fans online to send in bracelet charms. For you.”
Her fingers curled around a tiny pink skull and a green heart.
“You’re such a sap, Kaulitz.”
“You like it though.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I really do.”
YOU ARE READING
"Strings Between Us
Romance2004. Germany. Tom Kaulitz is used to getting what he wants - the stage, the crowd, the girls. As Tokio Hotel begins to rise, so does his ego... until she shows up. She's the Brazilian guitarist in a rival band - quiet, sharp-tongued, and completely...
