Chapter Text
There was something about grief that people rarely spoke of. It wasn’t just an absence, an emptiness echoing through silent days. It was a constant, invasive presence, like a shadow clinging to skin and heart even under the brightest sun. Taylor had learned this the hard way, waiting for the pain to fade with time, only to discover a quiet kind of surrender in its place.
Grief didn’t disappear; it adapted. It slipped into the cracks of good moments and consumed the bad ones whole. It was an uninvited guest, appearing in the curve of a song she hadn’t played in years or in the scent of rain as she opened a window. It lingered in the spaces between piano notes, in the pauses she took just to breathe.
The world wanted her to believe that pain was linear, a road with a clear beginning, middle, and end. People said time healed everything, but she knew better. Time wasn’t so kind. It merely taught you how to live alongside the absence. Like a cruel dance instructor, it forced you to move with blistered feet until the steps became automatic. But the exhaustion—the relentless fatigue of feeling—remained. Grief wasn’t a burden you could set down; it was an invisible scar, a mark that changed the way you saw everything as if the world had permanently lost some of its light.
Sometimes she thought people feared the word "grief" so much that they tried to reduce it to something fleeting, almost trivial. "It’ll pass," they would say, but no one explained how to survive the days when the emptiness felt bigger than her. No one told her how to face the mirror and contend with the person staring back—so different from who she’d been before. It was a lonely kind of learning because, in truth, no one could fully understand the weight of what only she carried.
There were moments when life felt normal, even easy, but it took just a spark—a scent, a phrase, a fleeting memory—for grief to return, wild and uncontrollable, bringing the storm with it.
And yet, Taylor found an odd tenderness in the pain, as though it were a constant reminder that she had loved deeply, with every fiber of her being. Because as heavy as grief was, it was also a connection to something that could never be erased. There was beauty in that pain, however cruel, because it made her more human, more attuned to the pain of others.
It was a paradox: to love so deeply that the absence was unbearable, yet to keep loving, knowing the void would never be filled. Grief, perhaps, was the price of feeling too much. And though it devastated her, she knew she would never wish it away.
Taylor looked at the dressing table mirror in the Chiefs’ locker room, now transformed into a backstage area. Her reflection stared back with tired eyes, reflecting not just the physical exhaustion of countless shows but also the invisible weight she carried. She took a deep breath, letting the air slowly fill her lungs in a futile attempt to ease the tightness in her chest.
The day before had felt different. Her cousins had been radiant, thrilled to be in the space their favorite players considered sacred. She could still hear their laughter echoing through the locker room, especially as they posed for photos in front of 87’s locker. One of them even tried to mimic the player’s pose from an ad campaign, and she had laughed—a genuine, almost lighthearted laugh. For a moment, she thought she could hold onto that positive energy for the next day, that she might escape the shadow of the calendar.
But now, alone, the void the day brought was inescapable. July 8th held a cruel power over her—a date that carried as much love as loss, as much beginning as end. It was the day that reminded her of everything that was and everything that could never be.
The vibration of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Taylor tore her gaze from the mirror and picked up the device, her fingers hesitating as Tom’s name lit up the screen. He always sent a message on this day, a silent ritual they’d followed since everything had happened. This time, the text read:
“It’s hard to believe it’s been six years. I just want you to know I’ll always be here for you, and that both of you are always in my heart and thoughts. Take care.”
She read the message slowly, her eyes tracing each word more than once, even though nothing was new. As always, she locked the phone screen without replying. The response would wait until the next day. That was her habit every year, unable to deal with it while the pain was at its peak.
Taylor noticed Tom’s messages grew shorter each year. She couldn’t blame him for it. He had moved on, he was engaged now and had a child. A child who survived , she thought bitterly, the thought cutting deeper. It was a kind of morbidity she couldn’t escape as if her heart insisted on punishing itself.
Silence reclaimed the locker room. Taylor set the phone aside and leaned her elbows on the dressing table, holding her face in her hands. The only memory she had of that day was blurred and incomplete—a haze of pain and joy, the moment when everything changed. She saw the doctor lifting her daughter—a brief smile before everything went dark. It was a glimpse that haunted her because, while precious, it was never enough.
But tonight felt worse. Alongside the pain that had become a constant companion was the added weight of a recently ended relationship she thought would last forever. She had given everything to someone who, in the end, seemed only interested in what she could provide.
At first, everything seemed perfect. He made her laugh, was charming, and seemed to understand her in ways few did. She felt she had finally found someone who saw her as Taylor, not Taylor Swift. For a while, she believed it. He seemed different and genuine, and she, so tired of protecting herself, let her guard down.
But what she didn’t see—or didn’t want to see—was that he knew exactly how to manipulate her vulnerability. Slowly, he began taking advantage of her status, asking for favors that seemed small at first but soon grew into demands she couldn’t ignore. He used her connections to land movie roles he could never have gotten on his own. He said it was for them, for their future together, and she, believing in that future, did more than she thought possible to help him.
It didn’t stop there. He had a younger brother still in college and began asking for financial help for him. First, Taylor agreed to cover tuition—education was important, after all. Then came his brother's phone bills and rent, even study-abroad trips he claimed were essential. And she, thinking she was investing in the family that would one day be hers, gave in.
It was as if he knew exactly what to say to keep her there. He made her believe she was the most important person in his life, that he didn’t speak about her publicly because he wanted their private life to remain private. Meanwhile, behind her back, he collected favors and advantages he could never repay. She started noticing the patterns but still hesitated. What if she was being paranoid? What if he really loved her, as he claimed? She didn’t want to be suspicious, didn’t want to ruin something that might be real.
But the truth came, as it always does, in a cruel way. When she stopped giving in to every demand, when she finally started questioning what he did for her in return for all she gave, he changed. The promises dwindled; the sweet words became rare. He grew cold and indifferent as if, without the benefits she could offer, there was no reason to stay.
It ended when Taylor discovered he had already been seeing someone else before breaking up with her. It was as if the last shred of trust she had shattered. He hadn’t just used her vulnerability—he had planned it. She felt there was nothing left of herself after that relationship.
Yet, during all that pain, something unexpected emerged. Not exactly a solution but a desperate attempt to feel alive again. It was during that phase, still grappling with betrayal, that she reconnected with someone else. They had met years ago, and there had always been a mutual attraction, though nothing had ever happened. He was the opposite of everything she had been through—seductive, provocative, and seemed to thrive on the intensity she carried. He was dangerous and, at the same time, irresistible.
She wasn’t herself. The still-open wound drove her to act in ways she knew weren’t healthy, but in the moment, he felt like the only escape from the pain. He made her feel wanted at a time when she felt discarded. He said exactly what she needed to hear. Sweet words, laden with empty promises, convinced her that perhaps she could allow herself to feel again. He was the kind of person who seemed to understand her wounds, who knew exactly where to touch—not to heal, but to use.
On some level, Taylor knew something was off, but she was so tired of feeling hollow that she ignored the signs. He made her believe he saw something special in her, something no one else seemed to notice. And she, desperate for a glimmer of light, dove in headfirst—only to discover, too late, that all he wanted was to get her into bed. Once he got what he wanted, he disappeared without a second glance, taking with him the last scraps of self-confidence she had.
The experience shattered her. It wasn’t just that she’d been deceived but that he had exploited her fragility, preying on her fears and desires for his own gain. She found herself replaying the episode in an endless loop, reexamining every word, every gesture, trying to understand how she’d missed his intentions. The shame, mingled with sorrow, pushed her deeper into a pit she feared she’d never climb out of. Her already fragile mental health almost completely crumbled. For weeks, she could barely get out of bed.
Now, months later, as she looked at herself in the dressing room mirror, Taylor knew she was still recovering. Not just from the men who had betrayed her but from herself—from who she’d become while trying to cope with the pain. She was beginning to understand that giving herself fully wasn’t the problem—the problem was choosing who deserved to receive those parts of her. It was a slow, painful lesson, but she felt she was making progress, even if her steps were small and hesitant.
She drew a deep breath again, feeling the heavy air of the dressing room as though trying to push through an invisible wall. She knew, somehow, she would have to go on. Not because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Because music and the stage were all she had left to help her piece herself back together.
But the gap between her heart and the stage had never felt so vast.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the locker room, the rhythmic taps reverberating off the walls like a harbinger of the inevitable. Slowly, she turned her head, leaving her reflection behind to face the entryway. Just in time, she saw Tree rounding the corner, as composed as ever. Dressed in deep green and black, her outfit seemed perfectly chosen to complement the vibrant red of her hair, neatly tied back in a practical yet sophisticated style.
There was a subtle stiffness in her posture, a reflection of the caution evident in her expression. Her eyes held a reserved gleam—the kind of look Taylor had come to recognize over the years. It was the look her publicist wore when she had to say something she knew might not go over well but that couldn’t be avoided.
Taylor stepped forward, her voice carrying a faint edge of impatience under its weariness.
“What is it?”
Tree stopped a few steps away from the dressing table, her arms deliberately at her sides, avoiding the defensive gesture of crossing them. She took a deep breath, as if rehearsing the words before letting them out.
“There’s a home team player in the audience tonight,” the older woman began, her voice low but firm. “He wanted to meet you before the show…”
Taylor didn’t wait for her to finish. The phrase wasn’t new to her—celebrities, athletes, artists. Someone always wanted a moment, a photo, an autograph. But the specific mention of a football player made her thoughts turn even more cynical.
She had a well-formed, albeit perhaps unfair, idea of what those men were like: loud giants, driven by inflated egos and a sense of superiority they wore like a badge of honor. Often sexist, rarely concerned with anything beyond their next conquest or the next beer spilled in celebration. The idea of glamorizing that type of figure irritated her deeply.
She shook her head almost automatically, cutting Tree off before she could continue.
“I don’t want to see anyone today.” Her voice was firm but not rude, tinged only with the exhaustion her publicist knew well. “Tell him I need to rest my voice or something…”
Tree didn’t respond immediately. She just looked at Taylor, her eyes quietly assessing the woman before her as if weighing the best way to proceed.
Taylor knew Tree understood; she’d been by her side through the worst times, holding the reins when everything seemed to fall apart. She didn’t just protect her career; she protected Taylor herself, acting as a shield against a world that was rarely kind. Taylor expected her to simply nod and leave.
But instead, the older woman took a deep breath, her determination taking on a new intensity. Rather than turn and walk away, she stayed firm, her voice dropping even lower as if to soften the impact of what she was about to say.
“He’s with his daughter,” she explained, pausing slightly before adding, “It’s her birthday.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, needing time to sink in. Taylor felt her shoulders tense as the meaning landed with a soft but certain blow.
Birthday . The word carried a heavier weight that day as if it opened a door she’d been trying to keep shut. For a moment, everything around her—the dressing room, the stage, the impending show—disappeared. All that remained was the thought of a child celebrating her birthday, something so simple and yet so painfully bittersweet for her in that moment.
Tree stayed still, waiting for Taylor’s reaction, ready to retreat if needed. That was her kind of loyalty: she would say what needed to be said but never push beyond what Taylor could bear. Yet, in that moment, the image of a smiling, hopeful girl waiting for her took root in Taylor’s mind before she could stop it.
Taylor pressed her lips together, her gaze dropping from the mirror to her hands resting in her lap. She felt the weight on her heart. It wasn’t just the thought of disappointing a little girl on her birthday that unsettled her. It was imagining, even for a second, how she would feel if the roles were reversed—if she were the parent trying to fulfill the purest wish of a child.
The scene formed in her mind with brutal clarity: her own little girl, bright-eyed and curious, clutching her hand tightly while pointing to a poster of a favorite artist, her tiny voice brimming with excitement as she said all she wanted for her birthday was to see a show or meet someone she admired. The mere thought tightened Taylor’s chest. She knew with an almost visceral certainty that she would move heaven and earth to make that wish come true, that she would overcome any obstacle to see the smile on her daughter’s face. She would do anything to create that unforgettable memory.
The image was almost unbearable because it carried absence with it. Taylor swallowed hard and glanced away as if she could escape the vision. But it was too late. The figure of the unknown father sharpened in her mind: a man, likely tired but determined, holding the hand of a little girl in a bright pink dress, just to make her happy on her special day. He wasn’t there for himself but for her. For love.
Taylor took a deep breath, feeling the walls of the dressing room close in slightly, the space becoming a little smaller. Tree hadn’t moved, her eyes carefully watching every microexpression on her boss’s face, patiently awaiting a decision. Taylor knew she could say no and her publicist would handle it, as she always did. She could retreat, build another barrier between herself and the world, just as she had been doing for some time. It was the easiest choice.
But in that moment, the easy choice didn’t feel right. Taylor drew another deep breath, feeling the resistance within her slowly begin to dissolve.
“Let them in,” she murmured, her voice low, almost a whisper.
Tree nodded subtly, showing no surprise, just a quiet sense of relief. She left without haste, leaving Taylor alone once more. For a brief moment, Taylor allowed herself to close her eyes, gathering the strength she knew she would need. She didn’t know who she was about to meet, but she knew that for a few minutes, she would give her all to that little girl—because that’s what she would have done if given the chance.
Taylor exhaled slowly and, with almost mechanical effort, rose from the chair. The motion seemed to amplify the silence around her, as though even the room could feel the weight of the moment. She walked over to the clothing rack in the corner of the dressing room, the metallic hangers making a soft, scraping sound as her fingers moved through them. Her eyes landed on the silver blazer she would wear later, gleaming and structured, almost like a shining suit of armor.
Without overthinking, she pulled it off the hanger and slipped it on over her pink and blue bodysuit. The cold fabric of the blazer against her skin sent a slight shiver through her, a jolt of reality pulling her back to the present. She adjusted the sleeves, feeling the familiar weight of the jacket, and buttoned the front, forming a barrier between herself and the world.
It was curious, almost contradictory, she thought. The same outfit she wore so confidently on stage before thousands of people now felt like an exposure she couldn’t bear. Here, in the quiet intimacy of the dressing room, about to meet a stranger, the Lover bodysuit felt far too personal.
The soft knock at the door broke the silence again. Taylor inhaled deeply before granting permission to enter.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing Tree first, her expression carefully composed, followed closely by Drew, ever vigilant. Though the situation was safe, he scanned the room with a quick, protective glance before stepping aside to allow the next visitor in.
And then Taylor saw him. The man seemed to fill the doorway as he entered, so tall he had to duck slightly to pass under the frame. He was imposing, taller than Drew—a fact that surprised her and brought a flicker of skepticism—but it was the little girl holding his hand that captured her attention and erased any snap judgments she might have had about him.
The girl’s blonde hair was meticulously brushed, each strand falling delicately in soft waves, but it was the glitter that caught the light and sparkled like a field of tiny stars that truly stood out. Her electric blue eyes shone with anticipation and wonder, practically twinkling as they looked at Taylor. And her smile… it was the kind of smile only children could give, a pure expression of joy when they knew they were about to experience something magical.
She wore a glittery purple dress adorned with tassels that swayed with every little movement. Black cowboy boots, equally shiny, completed the look, as though she had carefully chosen each piece with a clear purpose: to meet her favorite singer in style. Taylor couldn’t help the pang in her chest that came with the sight. For one long, unsettling moment, she saw herself in the little girl.
An unbidden image of six-year-old Taylor flashed in her mind: blonde hair also brushed by her mother for some important event, eyes equally bright with dreams of something larger than life. In that instant, she was no longer just an artist standing before a fan. She was someone gazing directly into the reflection of a distant version of herself. Something deep stirred within her, a memory of innocence and untainted dreams.
She swallowed hard and forced a softer expression, letting her gaze drift to the man standing beside the girl. He was exactly what she expected a football player to look like: tall, broad, shoulders seemingly sculpted to bear the weight of an entire offensive line. His short hair and neatly trimmed beard suited him, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was dark blond or light brown. Despite his commanding presence, it was difficult to label him as merely “intimidating.” His unexpectedly soft green eyes were fixed on the girl, not on Taylor.
There was something in his gaze—warm, almost tender—that chipped away at her initial irritation. He didn’t seem to be there to impress her or to seek anything in return. On the contrary, he looked slightly out of place, uncomfortable as if he was simply trying to do his best. His focus was entirely on his daughter.
A deeper ache settled within Taylor. She thought of the little girl before her and, almost involuntarily, of the daughter she never got to see grow up, never got to hold, never got to smile at like that.
The thought hit her like a blow. Taylor shook it off with a subtle tilt of her head, forcing herself to focus on the present. She offered a small but genuine smile as she stepped closer, ignoring the heaviness in her chest.
“Oh, hi,” she said softly, directing her words to the little girl as though the world around them didn’t exist. “What’s your name?”
The girl clutched her father’s hand tightly and took a small step forward, her smile growing as though she needed a moment to process that this was really happening.
“Annie,” she answered, her voice small and sweet, brimming with pure emotion. “Can I hug you?”
For a moment, Taylor was caught off guard, but a soft laugh escaped her lips, low and gentle, as though the scene had managed to pierce through the armor she always wore.
“Of course, you can,” she replied, her smile now more genuine, warming the exhaustion on her face.
Before she could prepare herself, Annie let go of her father’s hand and ran toward Taylor with all the energy in the world. The impact nearly knocked her off balance, but she managed to steady herself. Instinctively, she crouched down and opened her arms, holding the little girl close as the small body fit against hers with a disarming trust.
As Annie wrapped her tiny arms around Taylor’s neck, hugging her with surprising strength for someone so small, Taylor felt a lump rise in her throat. The scent of children’s shampoo hit her like a silent punch, intoxicating her senses and tearing down the walls she had tried so hard to keep intact. Her eyes welled with tears she couldn’t stop, her vision blurring slightly as the tightness in her chest intensified. She didn’t fully understand why—only that this embrace had reached a place deep inside her, where memories and longing had lain dormant for years.
The child, blissfully unaware of the storm inside Taylor, began to speak, her high-pitched, happy voice muffled against Taylor’s shoulder:
“I’m so happy, so happy! I love you so much! So, so, so much!” she repeated, as though needing to tell the entire world or fearing Taylor might not believe her.
Taylor closed her eyes briefly, swallowing the lump in her throat. When Annie finally pulled back slightly, still close, Taylor gently held the girl’s tiny arms, trying to smile despite the tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Well,” she began, her voice soft and full of tenderness, as though speaking just to Annie. “Someone very special told me it’s your day… so I’m going to put on a birthday show just for you!”
Annie’s eyes widened instantly, glowing like beacons. For a moment, her smile seemed too big to fit on her tiny face, and yet, it managed to grow even larger.
“Really?!” she asked, her voice bursting with pure excitement, as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
Taylor nodded, a more genuine smile spreading across her face.
“Really.”
Annie let out a happy squeal and clapped her hands, her little body practically vibrating with joy, as if her heart might just burst. Taylor chuckled softly, but inside, she felt a strange and painful familiarity settle in her chest. For just a second, that smile, that innocent and awestruck sparkle on Annie’s face, seemed exactly like the expression she imagined her own daughter might have had. It was a sight as beautiful as it was cruel, like a dream she could never live but that, for reasons beyond logic, felt as though it was standing right in front of her.
The man, Annie’s father, had been silent until now, watching the scene unfold from where he stood, though Taylor could feel his gaze on them both. When she glanced up briefly, she found his green eyes fixed on her—not with judgment or discomfort, but with something closer to gratitude, a quiet respect she hadn’t anticipated.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, realizing how long she’d spent kneeling with the child. With a graceful motion, she stood up, adjusting her silver blazer before extending a hand toward the man who remained near the door. “I’m Taylor.”
He stepped forward, smiling as he shook her hand. His smile was open, genuine, and lit up his face in a way she hadn’t expected.
“Travis Kelce,” he replied, his deep voice surprisingly warm. “Annie’s dad.”
The handshake was brief but enough for something unexpected to happen. The moment their hands touched, Taylor felt a tingling sensation sweep through her palms, traveling up her arms like a soft but undeniable electric current. It made her hold her breath for a moment, and, without meaning to, her eyes dropped to their joined hands as if to confirm she hadn’t imagined it. That’s when she realized: Travis had felt it too.
He glanced down at their hands briefly, surprise flickering across his face, and they both pulled back almost simultaneously, releasing their grip quickly.
“Now I'm the one apologizing,” he said, laughing a little awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “I guess I had some static electricity there.”
Taylor simply nodded, still feeling the faint buzz in her palms. She swallowed hard and looked at him again, and something clicked as his name echoed in her mind.
“Kelce…” she murmured, still processing. “Jason Kelce’s brother?”
Travis grinned widely, as if he’d been expecting that reaction, his green eyes twinkling with amusement.
“The better-looking brother, if I do say so myself,” he quipped, the playful tone pulling a soft laugh from her despite her attempt to keep a straight face.
“I’m an Eagles fan, you know,” she added as if defending herself against an unspoken accusation, crossing her arms over her blazer in a casual but slightly guarded stance, studying his reaction.
He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense, though his wide grin didn’t falter for a second.
“That really stings,” he said theatrically. “If I’d known, I would’ve brought a signed Chiefs jersey to convert you. Still time for that, you know.”
Taylor let out a short laugh, matching his lighthearted tone, though she couldn’t quite ignore how strange this encounter was turning out to be. The kind of strangeness that heightened her senses, making her heart beat just a little faster. As he laughed, she found herself studying him more closely, her gaze lingering on the effortless way his smile lit up his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled like that, and she couldn’t help but notice how it made him even more charming.
And it didn’t help that he was so… tall. Much taller than she was used to. His posture, relaxed yet steady, made him seem like he took up even more space in the room. She was tired—exhausted, actually—of wearing flats to avoid towering over her ex. For a fleeting moment, a thought she almost considered forbidden crossed her mind: she liked having to lift her chin slightly to meet someone’s eyes.
Wait… Taylor, stop it! she chastised herself, quickly averting her gaze to anywhere but his smile or the way he made her feel small without even trying. Where was her mind going?
She forced herself to focus on Annie, who was now curiously fiddling with her silver blazer, as if the fabric’s sparkle was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. Taylor smiled softly, trying to push aside the distraction and the strange warmth that still seemed to buzz faintly in her palms.
“So,” she said, glancing back at him and reclaiming a more professional tone, “how did you end up here today? I don’t see many dads bringing their daughters along.”
Travis laughed again, the deep sound echoing softly through the room, and for a moment, she hated how much she liked hearing it.
“She convinced me,” he admitted, casting a fond glance at his daughter, who was still engrossed in the shiny fabric as if her dad didn’t exist. “I don’t know if you realize, but she’s your biggest fan.”
“The biggest!” Annie interjected, looking up and grinning at Taylor with such earnestness that it made her heart ache.
Taylor chuckled quietly, nodding toward the little girl.
“I can see that. She has great taste.”
Annie’s smile grew even wider, and for a moment, Taylor managed to forget the world around her. But as she caught a glimpse of Travis from the corner of her eye, the faint tingling in her palms returned in a quiet echo. That sensation was still there. And somehow, it felt like the evening had just gotten a lot more complicated than she’d anticipated.
Before Taylor could say anything else, Annie’s high-pitched, excited voice broke through, her little body practically bouncing with energy.
“I have a friendship bracelet for you!” she announced, hopping in place as though she might burst from excitement.
Taylor arched an eyebrow in surprise, a soft smile curving her lips as she watched the girl step back just enough to slip something off her wrist. Annie carefully pulled one bracelet from the mix of colorful, sparkly ones adorning her arm—chaotically jumbled with the official concert bracelet. Taylor immediately recognized the type: beaded friendship bracelets, a loving gesture fans had adopted throughout the tour, something she’d received countless times before.
“Here!” Annie exclaimed, holding out the tiny bracelet with a smile so wide it seemed bigger than her face.
Taylor took the small gift delicately, as if afraid it might fall apart in her hands. She examined the tiny, colorful beads, already expecting some reference to her songs. At home, she had so many saved—bracelets with phrases like All Too Well , Fearless , Long Live , or acronyms of entire lyrics that fans cherished like personal mantras.
But as her eyes focused on the message spelled out in the beads, something unexpected hit her.
“Annie ♥ Taylor”
It was simple, unassuming, yet enough to make her heart melt. The innocence of that small gesture washed over her like a warm wave. It wasn’t about the music or the fame. It was just a little girl expressing the purest form of affection, putting her name alongside Taylor’s as if it were a secret bond just between them.
The singer smiled, this time without any effort to appear formal or polished. She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and ran her fingers over the beads, almost as if confirming it was real.
“I promise I’ll keep this forever,” she said softly, raising her arm to show that the bracelet was already in place.
“Do you really like it?” Annie asked, her eyes sparkling even more as if she couldn’t believe her idol was wearing something she had made.
“I love it,” Taylor replied, looking deeply into the girl’s eyes, her voice filled with sincerity. “It’s the most special bracelet I’ve ever received.”
Taylor wasn’t sure if the child could grasp the depth of her words, but in that moment, she knew she was speaking the truth.
The moment was gently interrupted by Tree’s calm, professional voice, always perfectly timed.
“Why don’t the two of you take a picture?” her publicist suggested, her tone neutral but with a hint of maternal warmth that she used when something important needed to happen.
Taylor blinked a few times, still caught in the sweetness of the gift, but then nodded slowly.
“Of course, that’s a good idea,” she murmured, adjusting her blazer sleeve to make sure the bracelet was visible.
Travis moved for the first time in minutes, pulling his phone from his pocket with an easy motion. Before doing anything, though, he turned the phone toward Tree, a silent gesture of permission to ensure everything was okay. As always, Tree, ever attentive, gave a subtle nod, and only then did he position himself to take the photo. The gesture caught Taylor’s attention, and she glanced at him briefly.
That was… unexpected. She was used to awkward parents or overexcited fans acting impulsively, but Travis seemed careful and respectful as if he understood exactly where the invisible boundary lay between this private moment and her public life.
Taylor crouched down again, her knees bending with mechanical ease, as though her body already knew what to do. Annie didn’t need an invitation; the little girl immediately latched onto her, hugging her side with a strength that defied her small frame. The woman smiled, an easy smile, but one laden with something more inside. Something she couldn’t quite name yet.
She wrapped her arms around the girl—the small, warm body pressing against hers with unshakable trust. Annie leaned in closer, her face nestled against Taylor’s, and in that instant, as the soft click of Travis' phone camera echoed through the dressing room, Taylor smiled at the lens. But it wasn’t just any smile—the kind offered automatically for a photo. No, it was a genuine smile, though tinged with an inexplicable hint of emotion.
She felt dizzy. It was like that hug, that beaded bracelet, that innocent child’s smile—and her father, though she didn’t want to think about that right now—had stirred something dormant inside her. A feeling she couldn’t explain but that was so warm and right, it seemed to fit perfectly into some empty space she hadn’t even realized was there.
For a brief moment, as she held Annie close and the sound of the child’s laughter filled the air, Taylor felt that everything in the world was exactly as it should be. The pain that had been her constant companion seemed to recede if only for a few seconds, replaced by a serenity she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time. It was almost terrifying. How could something so simple touch her so deeply?
“All done,” Travis' voice interrupted her thoughts, soft and low, as though he, too, didn’t want to break the moment. He looked at the phone screen and smiled. “It’s perfect.”
Taylor stood up slowly, gently releasing the little girl, though part of her wanted to hold onto her for a few more minutes. She smoothed her silver blazer reflexively and smiled at Travis, who still held the phone. He seemed about to say something but, for now, simply looked at her with that same respectful, attentive gaze, as if he was still trying to process what had just happened.
“Come take a picture too, Daddy!” Annie’s sweet, mischievous voice broke through, and Taylor, surprised, turned her attention to the girl, catching the playful grin spreading across her face.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out, and she quickly glanced at the man, who looked equally taken aback. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. For a brief moment, they seemed like two fish out of the water, staring at each other as though neither knew how to react.
The silence was broken by Tree, always in control, stepping in with a grin that matched Annie’s mischievous one.
“I’d be happy to take the picture!” she said, her voice carrying a barely concealed satisfaction.
Taylor turned her sharp gaze toward her publicist, her narrowed eyes clearly saying, “What on earth are you doing?”. Tree, however, deliberately ignored her silent protest, instead calmly extending her hand toward Travis, ready to take the phone.
Taylor watched, almost in slow motion, as Travis hesitated. He looked from the older woman to the phone in his hand, as though calculating the weight of the decision. Finally, after a few moments of uncertainty, he let out a resigned chuckle and handed it over.
“Okay,” he murmured, stepping slowly toward where Taylor and Annie were standing.
The woman felt her shoulders tense but kept her expression neutral, as though this were the most normal thing in the world. It’s just a picture , she told herself mentally.
She stayed in the middle as Travis positioned himself beside her, the weight of the moment growing in the small space between the two adults.
“All right,” Tree announced, her tone filled with a hint of amusement Taylor didn’t have time to question.
Taylor looked forward, adjusting her smile as Annie quickly clung to her again, wrapping her little arms around Taylor’s waist. She smiled more easily for the girl, but her expression grew more strained when she felt movement beside her: Travis' hand, large and warm, lightly touched her back.
The touch was brief, almost incidental, but she felt it.
For a second, her entire body tensed, as though hit by an unexpected wave of electricity. Taylor almost shuddered but took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay composed. Travis seemed oblivious—or perhaps just as uncomfortable as she was—as he turned his face toward the camera.
To balance the situation, Taylor instinctively decided to wrap her arm around his back as well, though the gesture was cautious and hesitant. She felt the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt and accidentally held her breath, quickly redirecting her thoughts before they wandered too far. Her other arm naturally rested on Annie’s shoulders, pulling the little girl closer to her.
“Perfect, stay just like that,” Tree instructed, her voice slightly amused.
Taylor maintained her smile, though her heart raced more than she cared to admit. She could hear Travis' breathing beside her and still felt the light pressure of his hand on her back. It was just a photo, but somehow, it felt like much more.
“All done!” her publicist exclaimed, and the camera’s soft click echoed through the dressing room.
Taylor exhaled slowly, almost as though she’d freed herself from something she hadn’t realized was holding her. Annie jumped away excitedly, giving her the chance to pull her arm from Travis' back, taking a small step backward and smoothing her blazer as if the gesture could restore her lost balance.
Taylor cast a quick glance at Tree, who was now handing Travis back his phone with the same mischievous smile, clearly pleased with what she had orchestrated. Taylor narrowed her eyes at her publicist again, murmuring softly:
“You enjoy this way too much.”
Tree simply shrugged, feigning innocence.
“I can’t help it if the lighting was perfect.”
Her publicist then mentioned something about only posting the pictures after the show to avoid revealing Taylor’s outfit. While the exchange happened, Taylor found herself unconsciously observing the man in front of her from head to toe.
The first thing that struck her was his simplicity. Most people who entered this environment seemed to present a meticulously curated version of themselves—something shiny, styled, or at least deliberately eye-catching. But he was different. Nothing about him seemed calculated or rehearsed.
A plain white t-shirt, the kind that could easily go unnoticed anywhere but seemed to fit him perfectly. Beige pants, casual and practical, and worn blue Nike sneakers that had clearly seen better days but looked as comfortable as they were well-loved. There was something almost disarming about finding someone with such a commanding presence dressed so unpretentiously. Somehow, it made him even harder to ignore.
Beside him, the little girl was now checking the photos on his phone, her face lighting up with a joy so pure it made Taylor smile without realizing it. Annie stood close to her father, leaning gently against his leg as if it were the safest place in the world. It was a simple scene, yet so full of tenderness that a soft warmth spread through Taylor’s chest.
Then Annie looked up from the phone and met Taylor’s eyes. For a second, the silence stretched between them, but before the singer could say anything, the little girl let go of her father’s hand and hurried back toward her. Her tiny footsteps echoed softly on the floor, and suddenly, she threw herself against Taylor’s waist and legs with the unshakable confidence only a child could have. Her small arms wrapped tightly around Taylor as though there was no place in the world she’d rather be.
Taylor let out a quiet laugh, surprised, but immediately returned the embrace, one hand resting on the girl’s back while her other arm gently circled her small frame.
“Can I ask you something?” Annie said, her voice small and almost shy. She fiddled absently with the fabric of Taylor’s silver blazer as if needing the extra courage to continue. “A birthday wish?”
Taylor laughed softly again, her heart swelling with so much warmth that her throat tightened.
“If it’s within my power…” she replied, a playful smile on her lips.
The little girl bit her bottom lip and looked away, her face taking on a thoughtful expression that made her seem even more endearing. Taylor simply watched, noticing how expressive Annie was, her emotions flitting across her face without a filter. The way her nose scrunched up as she thought made Taylor smile even more. It was the kind of expression that tugged at her heart, making it ache and warm at the same time.
Finally, Annie raised her eyes, still a bit hesitant, and murmured:
“Could you sing a song from Speak Now as one of the surprise songs? It’s my favorite album!”
For a moment, the room seemed warmer, fuller. Taylor looked at the child in her arms, feeling a wave of affection wash over her. She chuckled softly, pulling Annie closer in the hug as if to ensure she understood how much she mattered in that moment.
“I’ll see what I can do!” she replied, her tone playful but filled with care.
Annie’s smile grew so wide it seemed her face couldn’t contain it. Taylor mirrored the smile, the two locking eyes as though they had just sealed a secret pact.
Tree’s firm, controlled voice cut through the room, gently pulling everyone back to reality.
“I’m sorry to interrupt…” her publicist began, her tone professional yet courteous as always. “But Taylor needs to start focusing for the show now.”
The shift in the room was immediate. Annie pulled away and dropped her shoulders, the glow on her face fading in seconds. Her eyes fell to the floor, and she wore a look of such genuine sadness and disappointment that it nearly crushed Taylor’s heart. The little girl pressed her lips together and clutched the hem of her sparkly dress as if trying to hold herself back from protesting.
For a moment, Taylor felt an almost uncontrollable urge to tell her publicist Annie could stay. If she could, she would have kept the child with her for the rest of the evening. She would have put Annie in a special box seat or even brought her onstage to share the moment. She would have sung with her or danced with her—anything to see that smile light up her face again. But Taylor knew she couldn’t. The unyielding reality of schedules, performances, and overwhelming responsibilities wouldn’t allow it.
Her gaze shifted to Travis, and she saw that he looked just as crestfallen. He watched his daughter from the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to Taylor. His brows were furrowed and his expression softened as if he were… grateful but also a little sad. His green eyes, which had seemed so lively earlier, now held a subdued, almost resigned gleam, as though he didn’t want to leave but knew he had no choice.
Taylor felt her throat tighten again, the same knot forming as whenever she looked at the little blonde girl, so full of life, so much like how she imagined her own daughter might have been. It was irrational, she knew, but the feeling was there, undeniable.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Annie,” she said softly, crouching down once more, her voice gentler than she intended. “I hope you have the best time tonight.”
The child slowly lifted her gaze, as if Taylor’s words had managed to rescue a glimmer of hope.
“I will!” Annie said, her small smile sincere, as though trying to show she was being strong.
Taylor brushed her fingers lightly through Annie’s blonde hair which shimmered even more under the light and then stood up, her eyes drifting back to Travis.
He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary as if understanding something she didn’t need to say. He nodded slowly, the faint smile returning to his lips.
“Thank you for making her day so special,” he said, his voice low and filled with unexpected warmth.
The woman looked away, feeling that this moment, though simple, carried a weight she couldn’t name.
Drew had already begun guiding the two toward the door, while Tree stayed where she was, watching the scene with that analytical look Taylor knew so well. She, however, couldn’t move. Her eyes remained fixed on the man as he gently placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, guiding her out.
Each movement they made felt slow, almost deliberate, and every step echoed against the cold floor of the dressing room, a painful reminder of something just out of her reach.
She felt trapped, as though something inside her was pulling her back, an irrational impulse that almost made her reach out and yell for them to stop. It was like watching something precious slip through her fingers without being able to do anything about it. And before she could restrain herself, the impulse won.
“Wait, Annie!” Taylor’s voice echoed through the dressing room, soft but laced with urgency.
Travis stopped, turning slowly as Annie slipped slightly from his grasp and looked back, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. The singer took a few quick steps toward them, a small, hesitant smile curving her lips.
“How old are you today?” she asked, her voice sweeter than she intended, as though trying to keep the moment light.
Annie’s face lit up with that wide, life-filled smile as if the question were the most special gift anyone could have given her.
“I’m six!” she replied, nearly bouncing on her toes as she spoke, pride shining in every feature of her face.
Taylor froze, rooted to the spot. It was as though the ground had disappeared beneath her feet. Six. The word echoed in her mind like a distant bell, ringing repeatedly, louder each time, until it drowned out everything else.
For a moment, she forced a faint smile, unable to show anything else, and gave a soft wave to them. Travis nodded politely in return and began guiding his daughter toward the exit once more. Annie waved enthusiastically, still smiling, while Taylor remained where she was, frozen, watching them slowly disappear down the hallway.
The door closed with a soft click, and the dressing room plunged into deep silence. Taylor stood motionless, her arms hanging limply at her sides, as Annie’s words echoed in her mind.
Six years old. If her daughter were alive, she would be six too. Today would have been her birthday as well.
Would she have been like Annie? Would she have that same bright blonde hair? Or would her eyes have the same vibrant blue that seemed to light up everything around her? Would she have that same wide smile, full of innocence and light?
The avalanche of questions, of possibilities, hit her like a punch to the chest. Her breathing quickened suddenly, each breath short and painful, as though the air around her had thinned. She took a step back, her legs weakening beneath her, and let out a soft, nearly inaudible sob.
The tears came without warning, hot and uncontrollable, streaming down her cheeks as her chest swelled with a pain too immense to contain. Taylor sank to her knees on the cold floor, her trembling hands searching for something solid to hold onto, and opened her mouth as if to scream. But no sound came out. Her throat felt closed, suffocating under the weight of it all. The pain pulsed through her, sharp and cutting, burning her throat, stinging her eyes, and crushing her chest with the intensity of something that had been buried for years, now finally forcing its way out.
Tree, who had remained silent and still throughout, approached slowly, her footsteps almost inaudible on the dressing room floor. When Taylor completely broke down, her shoulders shaking with heavy, uneven sobs, her publicist knelt beside her. Without saying a word, she wrapped Taylor in a firm yet gentle embrace, as though she already knew exactly what to do.
Taylor clung to the fabric of Tree’s clothing as if it were the only thing keeping her from shattering completely. The tears fell in uncontrollable waves, soaking her publicist’s shoulder, while the pain she had held onto for six long years finally broke through every wall she had built. The image of the vibrant, radiant little girl had torn away the last vestiges of her defenses, leaving her exposed, raw, and vulnerable.
Six years without Faith.
Time was cruel, it didn’t erase anything, only concealed it. Taylor felt her chest splitting into pieces she wasn’t sure she could ever put back together. The cold floor beneath her knees, the burning ache in her throat, the muffled sound of her own sobs.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t try to fight it. She simply let the pain overflow, like a river finally finding a breach to follow its course.