Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(25 November 2027)

A soft crackle stirred through the baby monitor on the nightstand.

Then came the sound again—faint, warbled, almost like a tiny chant.
“Ma ma... ma ma...”

Taylor groaned softly, nestling deeper into the warm crook of Travis’s arms. Her legs brushed against his, her fingers gently tapping at his cheek, too sleepy to be fully awake but too tuned in to ignore the baby’s voice.

“Trav,” she mumbled, voice raspy and drenched in sleep. “Your daughter’s calling you.”

From behind her, Travis’s low chuckle vibrated against her back. His voice was rough with sleep. “You really need to get your hearing checked, baby.”

Taylor blinked, still half-dreaming. “Huh?”

Travis shifted, cracking one eye open as he smirked. “She’s not saying ‘da da.’ She’s calling you . My daughter’s got her priorities straight.”

Taylor turned her head slightly, trying to scowl, but failing. Her expression melted into a playful glare. “Unbelievable,” she muttered.

He broke into a quiet laugh, his chest rumbling against her shoulder. She finally let the corner of her lips curl upward, and they both chuckled together in the soft golden light filtering through the blinds.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Go back to sleep. I got her.”

“Mm-hmm,” Taylor hummed, already drifting off again.

Travis slipped out from under the covers and padded barefoot down the hallway to Thea’s nursery. The soft hum of the white noise machine played in the background, but it didn’t cover the sound of his daughter’s gentle babble.

“Ma ma… ma ma…”

He stepped into the room, and the sight before him never failed to melt him: their one-year-old daughter, Thea, standing up in her crib with a messy mop of blonde curls sticking up in every direction. Her cheeks were rosy with sleep, her chubby little hands gripping the wooden bars as she babbled on, drool glistening on her chin.

But the moment she spotted him, her whole face lit up.

“Da-da!” she squealed, arms stretching out toward him like he was the entire universe.

Travis melted. “Good morning, my princess,” he murmured, scooping her into his arms and kissing the crown of her head. She smelled like baby shampoo and dreams. He held her close, her little hands exploring his face as he walked back down the hallway.

Back in the bedroom, Taylor was still curled up beneath the comforter. But as soon as Thea spotted her mother, she immediately began wiggling in Travis’s arms, pointing and calling, “Ma-ma!”

Taylor cracked open an eye, then sat up with a sleepy grin, propping herself against the headboard.

“Well, now I believe you,” she whispered as Travis handed Thea over. The baby wasted no time, crawling into Taylor’s arms and cuddling against her chest.

“Hey, princess,” Taylor murmured, pulling Thea close and pressing a kiss to her temple. The baby responded with another soft “ma-ma,” almost like a lullaby.

Travis sat on the edge of the bed, watching his two girls with a warm smile. Taylor’s fingers absentmindedly combed through Thea’s hair—light and golden like her own.

After a few quiet moments, Travis stretched. “We should probably get up. We’ve got that flight.”

Taylor, eyes closed again, mumbled, “It’s a private jet, babe. We can be fashionably late.”

Travis laughed. “If Jase calls and yells at me, I’m totally blaming you.”

Taylor smirked. “Then I’m blaming this cutie who’s inherited the infamous Kelce puppy eyes.”

“Hey, don’t you drag our daughter into your web of deflection.”

She grinned. “Too late.”

They shared a slow, lingering kiss—unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Thea, meanwhile, decided this was the perfect time to poke Travis’s cheek with a drooly finger.

“Alright, alright, break it up,” he chuckled, grabbing a pillow and tossing it gently at the foot of the bed. “We’ve got to get moving.”

Thanksgiving with the Kelce-Swift family was no small event. They were flying to Philadelphia to spend the long weekend with Jason and Kylie. Donna and Ed were coming, as were Andrea, Scott, Austin and his fiancée, Sidney. It was rare for all of them to be together in one place, so the plan was a full family weekend—food, football, laughter, and probably some friendly sibling chaos.

They had packed most of their things the day before, but Taylor was now in her high-efficiency mode—checking off last-minute lists while trying to get ready at the same time.

The house buzzed with movement.

Taylor zipped across the living room with her hands full of chargers, baby wipes, and an unopened bottle of lotion. Travis stood near the kitchen island, coffee in hand, watching her with amused eyes.

“Can you please dress her while I double-check everything and grab a quick shower?” Taylor called out as she passed.

“Sure thing.”

“And then you get dressed, too, okay? I’ll be quick.”

“On it, boss.”

They somehow made it to the airport right on time. Thea was bundled in her tiny travel outfit, eyes wide with excitement as they boarded the jet. Taylor exhaled as she finally sat down, her hand finding Travis’s.

“Made it,” she whispered.

“Barely,” he grinned.

The flight was smooth, and the landing in Philly uneventful. There was less media frenzy here—unlike LA or New York. Jason had arranged for a couple of security cars just in case, but the vibe was relaxed.

Outside the terminal, the November air was crisp but not biting. Travis loaded their bags into the SUV while Taylor held Thea close, her tiny nose peeking out of a soft fleece blanket.

They pulled into Jason and Kylie’s driveway just after noon. The house was already buzzing inside—music, chatter, and the faint smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

Taylor stepped up to the door and rang the bell, her heart lifting at the sound of muffled footsteps behind it.

The door swung open, and there was Jason, already smiling.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little sister,” he said, wrapping Taylor in a big brother bear hug, carefully, since she was still holding Thea.

“Hey, Jase,” Taylor laughed, hugging him back.

Jason leaned in toward Thea. “And who do we have here?”

Thea didn’t hesitate—her chubby arms stretched out toward him, and Jason scooped her up like he’d been doing it forever.

“There’s my favorite niece,” he said, kissing her cheek.

Taylor laughed. “You say that like you have other nieces.”

“Shh,” Jason whispered dramatically. “She doesn’t need to know that yet.”

Taylor stepped out of the house and into the crisp Philadelphia air, her boots crunching softly on the gravel as she jogged toward the SUV. The front yard was alive with autumn — golden leaves scattered like confetti across the driveway, a gentle breeze whispering through the naked branches above. The day should’ve been nothing more than a family gathering, loud laughter, second servings of pie, and baby giggles echoing down the hallway.

She opened the back of the car and reached in, grabbing one of the last duffle bags. Inside the house, she could still hear Jason’s booming voice, Thea’s baby babble echoing off his shoulder as he spun her gently around. The moment was warm, domestic, safe.

Until it wasn’t.

Crack.

A gunshot split the air — sharp, sudden, and foreign.

The bag slipped from Taylor’s hands. A burning pain tore through her upper arm like fire licking her skin. Her scream tore from her throat before her brain could even register the damage.

Jason, just turning with Thea in his arms, froze mid-step. His instincts as a lineman kicked in immediately — protective, fierce. He crouched low, tightening his grip on his niece, his large frame shielding her tiny body. He ducked behind the door frame, just peeking his head out to see what happened — and then heard it again.

Another shot.

“Travis!” Taylor’s voice, raw and full of panic.

Jason's stomach dropped.

Just seconds earlier, Travis had been moving towards Taylor, his face creased with concern as her scream echoed off the neighborhood’s quiet walls. But the moment he saw the blood soaking through the sleeve of her sweater, bright and spreading like a blooming rose, something in him snapped.

He turned, eyes scanning — and that’s when the second bullet hit, not her, but him.

A hollow thump sound, like something heavy had dropped inside his chest.

His breath caught. His body jolted — and then stilled. For a heartbeat, he just stood there, blinking.

Then the pain came crashing in.

He staggered.

“Travis!” Taylor’s voice ripped through the stillness. She sprinted toward him, adrenaline drowning out the pain in her arm, her boots slipping slightly against the pavement as she caught him just in time before his knees gave way.

“No, no, no— Trav, stay with me,” she pleaded, helping lower him to the ground as gently as she could. Her hands trembled. Blood soaked into his hoodie, warm and thick and terrifying. Her free hand pressed hard against the growing red stain in his chest. The color was too vivid, too wrong.

Security, finally catching up, sprang into action. Drew and Sam took off in pursuit of the shooter, who had already taken off into the street. Kyle, the youngest of their team, dropped to his knees beside them.

“I’ve got him, I’ve got him,” Kyle said, already dialing 911 with one hand while checking Travis’s pulse with the other.

Taylor was trying not to fall apart. One hand pressed against the gaping wound in Travis’s chest, her injured arm trembling but forgotten. Her other hand patted gently against his cheek — desperate, urgent.

“Trav. Stay with me. Hey—look at me,” she said, her voice cracking. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. Help’s on the way, baby.”

His eyes fluttered open, his pupils dilated. He tried to speak, but it came out as a soft, garbled sound. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. His hand, shaky, reached for hers.

Inside the house, Jason had seen enough.

He turned, still cradling Thea in his arms, and met Donna and Ed as they rushed into the living room, drawn by the chaos outside.

“Mom,” Jason barked, “take Thea. Now. Keep everyone inside. Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone come out.”

Donna’s face paled. “Jason—what happened? What’s going on?”

Jason thrust Thea into her arms, careful but quick. “Just do it, Mom. I’ll explain later. Please.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and sprinted out the front door, the screen slamming behind him.

Jason dropped to his knees beside his brother. The sight stole the breath from his lungs.

Travis’s white shirt was soaked in red. The blood had pooled beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the driveway. Taylor was still holding pressure, her fingers trembling, her face streaked with tears. Her sweater sleeve was soaked through, but she didn’t even seem to notice.

“Shit,” Jason whispered, his voice breaking. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He joined her, hands steady, applying pressure just below where she had her own hand. He felt the slick warmth of blood against his palms.

Travis groaned, a low, agonizing sound.

“Trav, stay awake,” Taylor begged. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. Please.”

His eyelids were heavy. He was slipping.

Jason glanced at Taylor. “Where the hell is the ambulance?”

As if summoned by his words, the wail of sirens began to rise in the distance — first one, then another, until the street shimmered in red and blue.

The paramedics moved quickly. They worked as one unit — checking vitals, wrapping gauze, shouting over each other to coordinate efforts. They pushed Taylor and Jason back gently, trying to move with speed and precision.

Taylor hesitated, her hand still gripping Travis’s. “I’m not— I’m not leaving him—”

One of the medics gave her a firm nod. “You can ride with him. But we need to move. Now.”

Jason caught her arm. “Tay—go. I’ll follow in the car. Just—go.”

Taylor nodded through the tears, brushing her lips against Travis’s temple before stepping back as they lifted him onto the stretcher.

She climbed into the back of the ambulance, her hand still clutching his even as the doors slammed shut behind her.

Jason stood in the driveway, blood on his hands, watching as the sirens wailed into the distance.

Chapter Text

Jason burst through the front door, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He was still breathing hard from sprinting through the yard, and his hands — Travis’s blood still fresh on them — were shaking.

Inside, Donna, Ed, and Kylie were pacing in the entryway, alarm already etched across their faces.

Donna rushed toward him. “Jason! What happened?”

Before he could answer, Kylie gasped. Her eyes had landed on his hands.

“Oh my God… Jason — is that… who’s blood is that?”

Jason’s voice cracked as he choked out the words. “It’s Trav’s. He— he got shot.”

Donna’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide, lips trembling. Her knees seemed to buckle for a second, and Ed caught her by the elbow.

Kylie stared, frozen. “No… no, no, no—”

Jason forced himself to move. There was no time to fall apart now.

“I’m going to the hospital,” he said urgently. “Dad, you’re coming with me.”

Ed nodded wordlessly, already grabbing his coat.

Jason turned to Kylie. “Ky, listen—Taylor’s gonna need her family. Call Andrea. Call Scott. Tell them to get to the hospital. Then call the sitter for the kids. Once she gets here, you and Mom come too.”

He was already halfway to the door, keys in hand.

“Go!” Kylie said quickly, snapping into motion.

Jason and Ed climbed into the car, and with tires squealing slightly as they hit the road, they took off, chasing the ambulance that was already disappearing down the street.

Kylie’s hands were trembling as she pulled out her phone. Her first call was to Andrea.

It rang once, twice — then connected.

“Hello?” Andrea’s voice was cheerful, unaware.

Kylie swallowed. “Andrea—hey, where are you guys?”

“About thirty minutes out. Traffic’s a little heavy, why?”

Kylie paused for only a beat. “Okay, listen to me—there’s been a shooting.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Travis got shot. I don’t know the full details yet. Taylor’s with him, the ambulance just left. Jason’s on his way. I’m going to head over after the sitter gets here.”

Andrea’s breath hitched. “Wh… What?”

Kylie’s voice cracked. “I know. I know. Just—stay calm. For Taylor.”

Andrea didn’t reply, but the sound of her breathing growing uneven came through the line. Kylie could hear the tears forming, the shock settling in.

“I’ll see you there soon,” Kylie said softly and hung up, then moved swiftly to call the sitter.

Fifteen minutes later, with the babysitter settled in and Thea peacefully unaware in the other room, Donna and Kylie rushed out the door and toward the hospital.

Meanwhile, in the ambulance, Taylor clung to Travis’s hand as if letting go would mean losing him entirely.

His face was pale. His breathing ragged. Tubes and wires were attached to him in a flurry of medical urgency. She couldn’t look away from his face — she was terrified that if she blinked, she’d miss the last second she had with him.

“Come on, Trav,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Please… stay with me.”

The siren wailed around her. The world outside blurred by the second, but inside that tiny, fluorescent-lit ambulance, time felt frozen.

The ambulance jolted to a stop.

They burst through the doors of the emergency bay, wheels screeching on the tile as they pushed the stretcher through the ER.

Jason and Ed caught up just as the paramedics shouted for OR prep. Taylor followed closely behind, refusing to let go of Travis’s hand until they reached the doors to surgery.

A nurse stepped in front of her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You can’t go past this point.”

Taylor stared at her blankly. “No—wait—he’s my husband—!”

Jason gently pulled her back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as the surgical doors swung closed and swallowed Travis whole.

Taylor’s breath caught in her throat. She stumbled backward, then began pacing. Her arms wrapped around her middle like she was trying to hold herself together. Ed was already at the reception desk handling the necessary paperwork.

Jason turned back and, for the first time, noticed the dark red stain on Taylor’s upper sleeve.

His heart dropped. “Taylor… your arm.”

She looked at him, dazed. “I’m fine.”

Jason stepped closer, trying to get a better look. “You’ve been shot.”

“I said I’m fine, Jason,” she snapped, but the pain in her voice betrayed her.

He reached out to examine it, and she flinched.

Jason’s voice rose, urgent. “You need to get that checked. It could be serious.”

“I don’t care!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I don’t care if it’s serious! Travis is in there fighting for his life, and I’m not leaving this hallway!”

Her breath quickened — short, sharp gasps — and her hands clenched into fists.

Jason’s face fell. “Tay… you’re spiraling. You need to breathe.”

“DON’T—” Her voice cracked. “Don’t tell me to breathe! I can’t—” She clutched her chest, her breath coming out in jagged bursts. “I can’t— I can't—”

Jason stepped forward to catch her as she staggered. “Someone! We need help over here!”

Taylor stumbled again, swaying dangerously.

“Tay, sit down—come on, just sit—”

But she tried to push him away. “No! I’m not— I’m not leaving—!”

And then her legs gave out.

“Taylor!” Jason caught her just before she hit the floor, gently lowering her.

Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, her face white as paper.

From the corridor, Andrea’s voice broke through the chaos.

“Taylor!” she cried, rushing forward with Scott, Austin, and Sydney behind her.

Taylor raised her hand weakly, eyes glazing over. “Mom…” she whispered.

Before Andrea could reach her, Taylor collapsed fully, her body limp in Jason’s arms. Her vision blurred, her mother's face fading into fog.

Jason cursed under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Andrea dropped to her knees beside them. “What happened?”

Jason’s voice was rough with emotion. “She’s shot too.”

Andrea looked stricken. “Where’s Travis?”

“Surgery. He’s in surgery.”

A group of nurses and a doctor arrived just then, rushing forward with a wheelchair and stretcher. They carefully examined Taylor and loaded her up.

“She needs a CT,” the doctor ordered. “Check for bullet path, internal damage.”

Minutes later, they confirmed a fractured humerus. The bullet had ricocheted and splintered the bone — it would need internal fixation surgery.

“We need to operate,” the doctor informed Jason, Andrea, and Scott. “We’ll stabilize the arm with plates and screws. But we need a consent form.”

Jason stepped forward, without hesitation. “Give me the papers.”

He signed them quickly, eyes never leaving the corridor where Travis had vanished minutes earlier.

Kylie and Donna arrived at that moment, breathless and pale.

Donna spotted the blood on the floor, the chaotic scene around them. “What—what’s going on?”

Jason turned to them. “They’re both in surgery.”

Kylie’s eyes widened in horror. “Both?! What do you mean both?!”

Jason swallowed, voice low. “Taylor was shot too. In the arm. It’s bad.”

Donna’s hand went to her chest. “Oh my God…”

Jason turned to Scott, jaw clenched, eyes dark with fury. “We need to call Tree. We need to get the police report. Find the shooter. Find who the hell did this.”

Scott’s fists were already balled. “When I do…” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

An hour had passed since Taylor had been wheeled out of surgery. The sterile lights of the hospital ceiling glowed dimly above her bed in the general ward. Her arm, now wrapped tightly in a cast and resting in a sling, throbbed beneath layers of gauze and medication. An IV line snaked into the crook of her elbow, the steady drip of painkillers dulling the ache—but not the worry.

Travis was still in surgery.

Andrea sat at her daughter’s bedside, gently holding her uninjured hand. Her fingers trembled slightly, her eyes red-rimmed and heavy with exhaustion. She hadn’t stopped crying since the moment she’d arrived—and now that Taylor was out of danger, her fear had shifted entirely to Travis.

The machines beeped rhythmically in the background. It was the only sound in the room, other than Andrea’s soft breathing.

Then, suddenly—Taylor jolted awake.

“Travis!” she gasped, voice hoarse and panicked. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to sit up, eyes wild with confusion.

Andrea leaned in immediately, brushing her hand through Taylor’s tousled hair. “Tay, honey—breathe. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Taylor blinked, eyes darting across the unfamiliar room. “Where’s Travis? Where is he?”

Andrea swallowed hard, her voice breaking. “He’s still in surgery.”

Taylor’s eyes flicked to her arm—now in a cast—and the IV in her wrist. Everything came rushing back. The gunshots. The blood. Travis collapsing in front of her. Her own scream echoing in her ears.

She tried to sit up again, ignoring the pain that spiked in her arm. “I need to see him—I have to see him.”

Andrea gently but firmly pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Sweetheart… you can’t right now. He’s still in the OR. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

The fight in Taylor’s body ebbed. Her back slowly sank against the pillows as the weight of it all came crashing down. “I should’ve done more,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “I should’ve—”

“No,” Andrea said softly, gripping her hand tighter. “You did everything you could. You saved him. You stayed with him.”

The door creaked open, and Donna walked in, eyes wide with cautious hope. As soon as she saw Taylor awake, her face softened.

“Oh, honey,” she breathed, crossing the room and enveloping Taylor into a gentle, careful hug. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Taylor melted into her embrace, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. Donna had always been like a second mother—warm, unwavering, the kind of woman who could make any space feel like home. From the beginning, the Kelces had welcomed her with open arms. Not just as Travis’s girlfriend or wife—but as family.

And now, part of that family was fighting for his life.

Hours passed.

The room filled slowly—Jason, Ed, Kylie, Scott, Austin, Sidney—all waiting for word. Everyone tried to be quiet, respectful, but the air was thick with tension and dread.

Taylor sat propped against the pillows, flanked by Andrea on one side and Donna on the other, both women anchoring her as she waited for the door to open, for someone to say anything that would break the unbearable silence.

Finally, it did.

The door creaked open, and Dr. Altman stepped in—calm, composed, but serious. A folder was tucked beneath her arm. Everyone rose to their feet—or straightened where they sat—hearts pounding in sync.

Taylor clutched Andrea’s hand. Donna rested a steady palm on her shoulder.

Dr. Altman cleared her throat. “Travis made it through the surgery. The bullet caused significant damage to the lower lobe of his right lung, and there was substantial blood loss. We sutured the lung and performed multiple transfusions.”

Everyone stayed silent, hanging on every word.

“Due to the amount of blood he lost before surgery and the duration of time he was without sufficient oxygen, Travis has slipped into a coma.”

The world seemed to tilt sideways.

Taylor stopped breathing.

She heard the word—but it didn’t register, not fully. The doctor continued speaking, but the rest came out as a distant echo. She saw lips moving, heard phrases like "oxygen deprivation," "coma scale," "no neurological damage so far,"—but her brain latched onto just one word, circling like a vulture.

Coma.

Jason’s voice was rough. “How long… how long until he wakes up?”

Dr. Altman sighed. “That’s the unpredictable nature of comas. It could be hours. Days. Weeks… even months or longer. There’s no way to say with certainty. All we can do now is monitor him closely and wait.”

A strangled sound left Taylor’s throat. She didn’t even realize she was crying until tears slipped off her chin and hit her hospital gown.

Dr. Altman glanced at her gently. “We’re moving him to the ICU for now. You’ll be able to see him soon—once we stabilize him.”

The room fell silent again.

Taylor could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze—sympathy, sorrow, uncertainty. It was too much. Too many eyes. Too many people waiting for her to break.

She wiped at her cheeks with her good hand, but the tears kept falling, stubborn and endless.

Then, softly: “Can you all just… give me a moment? Please.”

There was no anger in her voice. Just exhaustion.

Everyone nodded quietly. One by one, they began to leave. Jason gave her a long look, as if silently saying I’ve got this, then walked out. Donna leaned in, kissing her forehead.

“You’re not alone, sweetheart,” she whispered. “None of us are going anywhere.”

Finally, Andrea stood and brushed hair from Taylor’s forehead, her touch gentle, motherly.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered, though her own voice cracked.

Then the door clicked shut.

And Taylor was alone.

She let her head fall back against the pillows, eyes closing as more tears escaped down her cheeks. Her casted arm throbbed dully, her chest felt hollow. But the worst pain—the kind you can’t see, can’t stitch up—was in her heart.

The man she loved more than anything lay just down the hall… and she had no idea when—or if—he’d ever wake up again.

Chapter Text

Taylor still had a couple of days left before she could be discharged. She’d tried—begged, even—to leave early, saying she could recover at home. But no one agreed. Not the doctors. Not Andrea. Not Jason or Donna. Especially not Tree.

The truth was, she couldn’t even sit up too fast without getting dizzy. Her arm throbbed under the cast, but that pain was nothing compared to what was happening just down the hall in the ICU.

Travis still hadn’t woken up.

The hours since his surgery had crawled by, thick and slow, like walking waist-deep through grief.

Taylor lay on her side in the hospital bed, the thin blanket tucked around her. Her eyes were open, but her gaze was distant, fixed on some invisible point on the wall. The beeping of her IV monitor was the only sound in the room.

Andrea sat quietly in the corner chair, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring up at the ceiling as if looking for answers. Scott sat on the nearby couch, eyes glued to his phone, though he hadn’t really read anything in the past ten minutes. He was just pretending to be distracted—too afraid of saying the wrong thing. Or worse, having nothing to say at all.

The air was still, heavy with everything left unsaid.

The door creaked open gently.

“Hey,” came a soft voice.

Andrea blinked and looked toward the doorway. Scott raised his head. Taylor didn’t move at first, but her eyes shifted slowly.

Tree Paine stood there, her eyes glassy and tired, her travel coat still hanging from her shoulders. She dropped her bag by the door and stepped inside, her usual professional energy now replaced with something much more human—something heartbreakingly tender.

Scott gave her a small nod. “Hey, Tree.”

“Hey,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Andrea straightened in her seat. “You made it.”

“I came as soon as I heard,” Tree said. Her voice cracked on the last word. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Andrea nodded slowly. No apology was necessary.

Taylor stirred in the bed, trying to push herself upright with her good arm. Her movements were slow, strained. Tree moved quickly to her side, helping adjust the pillow behind her.

Without a word, she reached out and gently took Taylor’s hand in hers—the one not connected to the IV. Her thumb ran gently over Taylor’s knuckles, a silent offering of comfort.

Her eyes welled immediately. “Hey.”

Taylor’s throat tightened. “Hey.”

There was a long pause, their hands still clasped.

“How are you feeling?” Tree asked, though the question sounded hollow even as she said it.

Taylor’s lip trembled. “How do you think?”

Tree nodded, blinking away the tears that were already slipping past her lashes.

“Your security team caught the shooter,” she said softly. “He’s in police custody now. Won’t see the light of day again.”

Taylor’s jaw clenched, and her face twisted as the anger began rising beneath the sorrow. Her voice came out low and sharp, like broken glass. “I want to kill him.”

Tree didn’t try to correct her. She just squeezed her hand. “I know, Tay. I know.”

Taylor took a shaky breath. “Who was he?”

Tree hesitated. She hadn’t wanted to give Taylor the details until she was stronger, but she knew she had to be honest. “His name’s not important. A nobody. A Chiefs fan, apparently. But not a real one. Obsessed. Delusional. He hated you—thought you ruined Travis.”

Taylor blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the words. “So… it should’ve been me.”

“No,” Tree said quickly, eyes fierce now. “It shouldn’t have been anyone at all.”

Taylor didn’t seem to hear her. Her voice cracked again. “If it wasn’t for me… he’d be fine.”

Another tear slid down her cheek. Then another. The dam was breaking again.

“Taylor—” Tree began, but Taylor shook her head.

“This is all because of me,” she whispered, voice hollow. “He was targeted because he was married to me . To Taylor Swift —the woman people think they know, love, hate, obsess over. He was supposed to be safe. He didn’t sign up for this. He didn’t deserve this.”

Her free hand pressed to her face as her crying turned to full sobs—gut-wrenching, shoulder-shaking, breath-stealing sobs. She curled slightly inward, as if trying to disappear.

Andrea was on her feet in an instant. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling Taylor’s head to her chest the way she had when she was a little girl. Holding her like she could somehow shield her from a pain too big to bear.

“Sweetheart,” Andrea whispered, voice cracking. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

Taylor sobbed harder. “He’s in a coma, Mom. Because he loved me. Because he didn’t care what anyone said. Because he stood by me.”

Andrea held her tighter, her eyes shining. “He’d do it again, Tay. In a heartbeat. That’s the kind of man he is.”

Scott stood, crossing the room and rubbing Taylor’s back as Andrea held her. Tree wiped her own tears away, quietly stepping back to give the family space.

Taylor's breaths grew faster, uneven. Her voice trembled between gasps. “I-I-I… I can’t… I can’t breathe…”

Andrea pulled back slightly. “Tay?”

“I—can’t—breathe—” Taylor rasped, clutching her chest, her whole body starting to shake.

Andrea’s voice turned sharp. “Get someone! She’s having a panic attack!”

Tree didn’t wait. She dashed out the door, her heels clacking against the tile. Her voice rang down the hallway, urgent: “We need help in Room 219! Now!”

At the same moment, Donna and Ed appeared in the hallway, making their way to check on Taylor. The second they heard Tree’s voice, they ran.

They burst into the room to see Taylor hunched over, gasping, tears streaming down her face. Andrea held her upright while Scott tried to keep her still.

Donna rushed to the bedside, her face full of maternal worry. “What happened?!”

No one answered, but Andrea met her eyes. The look said enough.

Donna moved to Taylor’s other side and pressed her hand gently to her cheek. “Sweetheart, listen to me. Travis is strong. He’s going to be okay. You have to believe that.”

Taylor couldn’t even respond—her sobs had turned into shallow gasps, her chest heaving, hands shaking uncontrollably.

Moments later, Tree returned with a nurse and Dr. Ramirez in tow. The doctor quickly assessed the situation, checking the monitor, glancing at her vitals.

“She’s panicking,” he said calmly. “We’ll administer a small dose of diazepam. It’ll help her calm down.”

The nurse worked quickly, and within moments, the medication was flowing into her IV.

Taylor’s body began to settle. The ragged breaths slowed. Her sobs grew softer.

Andrea eased her back onto the pillow, brushing the hair from her face, her hand gentle and rhythmic on Taylor’s cheek.

Donna stepped back as Tree returned to Taylor’s side, watching her breathe, slow and heavy now, eyes fluttering between wakefulness and exhaustion.

Taylor opened her mouth slightly, her voice barely more than air. “Mom…”

Andrea leaned closer. “I’m here, honey.”

Taylor reached up weakly, resting her hand against her mother’s. “Travis…” she whispered, the word full of longing, fear, and love.

Andrea nodded, tears forming again. “I know, honey. I know.”

Taylor’s lips parted one more time, as if to say his name again, but her eyes slipped shut before the sound came. The medication had pulled her under.

Andrea stayed there, holding her daughter’s hand long after the room had quieted. Tree stood near the window, silent, watching as the sky outside slowly turned dusky lavender. Donna and Ed sat close by, shaken but quiet. Scott paced the room, eyes heavy.

None of them knew what the next hour, the next day, the next week would bring.

But for now, they stayed. Because there was nothing else to do—and because they all knew:

Taylor had taken the bullet in her arm. But her heart had taken far more.

Chapter Text

Three long, unbearable days had passed since Taylor last saw her daughter.

Three days of sleepless nights. Of whispering prayers into the sterile dark. Of holding herself together by frayed threads—just long enough to make it to the next hour.

Now, finally, she was about to be discharged.

Jason and Kylie had brought Thea to the hospital, deciding it was time. Thea had been inconsolable since the night of the shooting—crying herself to sleep, searching for her parents in every room, clinging to Jason’s shirt like it was her lifeline.

She was just one year old, but she knew something was wrong. Children always do.

Jason carried Thea gently down the corridor, her tiny arms wrapped limply around his neck. Her cheeks were still damp, stained from the tears she hadn’t quite stopped shedding. Her blonde curls were messy, her lips quivering even though she wasn’t making a sound. A small red bow clung crookedly to her head, like a memory of normal.

As they reached the hospital room, Jason whispered softly, “Hey, sweet pea… ready to see Mama?”

Thea didn’t say anything, but her grip on his shirt tightened.

He pushed the door open slowly.

Inside, Taylor was sitting upright in her hospital bed, hair pulled into a loose bun, face pale, eyes shadowed. She looked like someone who had held her breath for days—and was still holding it.

Andrea and Scott were in the room with her. Andrea was sipping a lukewarm cup of tea while watching the rain tap against the window; Scott sat by the foot of the bed, scrolling quietly through his phone. They both looked up as the door opened.

As soon as Thea saw Taylor, her little body came to life.

“Ma ma!” she cried out, twisting in Jason’s arms, trying to wriggle free. “Ma ma! Ma ma!”

Taylor's heart clenched. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw her baby girl’s tear-streaked face, arms outstretched desperately toward her.

For the first time in days, Taylor smiled.

It was small. Fragile. The kind of smile that breaks your heart more than it heals. But it was real.

Jason stepped forward, kneeling carefully at the edge of the bed. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured to Thea, “but you have to be gentle. Mama’s hurt, okay?”

Taylor adjusted herself with effort, moving her casted arm to the side and opening her other arm wide. “Come here, baby,” she whispered, her voice already thick with emotion.

Jason gently placed Thea in her lap.

Taylor pulled her in instantly, cradling her close, burying her face into Thea’s curls. She inhaled the familiar scent of her baby girl—warmth, powder, lavender shampoo. The smell hit her like a wave.

Thea clung to her like her life depended on it.

“Me miss ma ma,” Thea mumbled into her shoulder, little fingers gripping her hospital gown.

Taylor felt her chest squeeze until she could barely breathe. “I missed you too, sweet pea. So, so much.” She kissed her daughter’s head, again and again, tears already falling.

They had never spent more than a few hours apart—never a night. And now here they were, days separated by trauma and silence and sterile walls.

Taylor brushed a strand of golden curl out of Thea’s face, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry, baby. Mama’s here now.”

Thea pulled back just enough to look up at her with wide, curious eyes. “Da da?”

Taylor froze.

Her breath hitched, and for a second, the room tilted. She blinked, trying to find words that didn’t exist.

She couldn’t lie. But how could she possibly explain this to a one-year-old?

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

And then, just like that, the tears began to fall. She didn’t even realize it until she felt Thea’s tiny hand on her cheek.

Thea looked worried. “Ma ma cry?”

Taylor forced a smile through the ache. “Mama just got hurt,” she said softly, pulling Thea closer with her good arm. “But she’s okay now. Just really missed her baby girl.”

She held Thea tighter, burying her face in her daughter's soft hair, breathing her in, as if she could anchor herself in this small, innocent body.

She didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not when Thea was finally in her arms again. But grief isn’t something you can control, and guilt doesn’t care who’s watching.

Thea nestled into the crook of her neck, thumb in her mouth, eyes already fluttering closed.

Within minutes, her breathing slowed.

Taylor held her gently, letting her fall asleep against her chest, even though her arm ached from the weight. She didn’t care. She would’ve held her forever.

Eventually, Jason stepped forward. “Let me take her,” he said gently. “Don’t want her leaning on your arm too long.”

Taylor nodded reluctantly and placed one last kiss on Thea’s forehead before Jason lifted her back into his arms. She watched her daughter sleep as if letting her go again would break her.

A few hours later, Taylor was finally discharged.

She stepped out of her room in loose, pale blue clothes, one arm still in the sling. Her hair was brushed back, her lips bare, and her expression unreadable—except for the exhaustion in her eyes.

She turned to Jason.

“I want to see him,” she said, her voice flat. Controlled.

Jason nodded without question. He handed Thea to Andrea and quietly led Taylor down the hallway. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet squeak of Taylor’s hospital-issued slippers on the linoleum floor and the low hum of the fluorescent lights above them.

They stopped just outside Travis’s ICU room.

Jason rested his hand on the doorknob, then turned to her. “He’s stable,” he said gently. “But it’s… a lot.”

Taylor nodded once.

Jason pushed the door open, then stepped aside.

Taylor took one long, deep breath, then stepped into the room.

The beeping was the first thing she noticed.

That slow, rhythmic beat of the heart monitor—steady, but faint. The kind of sound that felt both reassuring and terrifying.

Then she saw him.

Travis.

Her husband.

Pale and still, lying motionless in the hospital bed. Wires and tubes crisscrossed his chest, monitors tracking every breath and beat. A nasal cannula rested beneath his nose, delivering oxygen. His hands, once so warm and strong, lay still at his sides.

Taylor moved toward him slowly, like if she made too much noise, she might wake him—or worse, not wake him at all.

She reached the side of the bed and took his hand gently in hers.

No wedding band. It must’ve been removed during surgery. The absence hit her like a knife.

She brought his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles. Her tears were silent at first. Then they came faster.

She reached up and stroked his cheek with trembling fingers, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

“Hey, Trav,” she whispered. “It’s me.”

There was no response.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “God, I’m so sorry.”

She bent over him, pressing her forehead gently against his. Her casted arm hung limply by her side while her other hand curled into his shirt.

“You’re lying here because of me,” she sobbed. “Because someone hated me .”

She wanted him to wake up—to argue, to laugh, to tell her she was being ridiculous. She wanted him to tease her, like he always did, and say something like, ‘Tay, no one could take me down, baby, not even a bullet.’

But he said nothing.

The silence was the cruelest part.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, her breath catching as she kissed his forehead. “Please come back to me. Please.”

And for the first time since the shooting, she broke.

Not the way she had in front of her family. Not the quiet, composed grief.

This was raw.

Her whole body shook as she sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to the shell of the man she loved, praying to anything that could hear her.

Chapter Text

Taylor hadn’t left Travis’s side in five days.

Five long, blurry days of watching, waiting, and not breathing properly. Of speaking only when necessary. Of eating only when Jason or Andrea forced her to. Even then, she barely swallowed—tasting nothing. The food sat in her stomach like lead.

She moved through the hospital like a ghost. She’d mastered the art of silence, of slipping in and out of the ICU without drawing attention. No makeup, no sleep, barely functioning. She’d memorized the pattern of his heart monitor beeps, the way the fluorescent lights flickered above the nurses’ station every few hours, the click of the elevator every time someone came or went.

Nothing changed.

Travis lay still. Breathing, but not awake. Alive, but not here.

She talked to him sometimes, whispering things in the dark like, “Remember our first date? I spilled water like three times “ or “You promised you'd never leave me.” Sometimes, she just held his hand and said nothing at all.

The only moments Taylor showed anything other than numbness were when Jason brought Thea in.

Those were the rare fragments of emotion—sharp and sweet and excruciating.

Because every time Thea came, she asked the same thing.

“Da da?”

And every time, Taylor gave the same answer, her voice a broken echo:
“Daddy’s just a little hurt, baby. He’s resting. But he’ll be up soon.”

She didn’t even know if a one-year-old could grasp any of this, but what else could she say?
How do you explain to a child who can barely string together a full sentence that the person they love most in the world may never open their eyes again?

Every time Thea left crying, Taylor thought, That has to be the worst moment of my life.

And somehow, the next time hurt even more.

Today, Thea wasn’t in the mood to be soothed.

Jason had barely stepped through the door of Taylor’s hospital room with her when Thea started wriggling in his arms. Her little voice pitched into desperate cries.

“Da da! Da da!”

Jason tried to hush her gently. “Shhh, baby girl, not right now.”

But Thea wasn’t having it.

She squirmed harder, little fists pounding against his chest as she cried louder, “Da daaaaa!”

Taylor, curled on the edge of the couch with her cast resting beside her, looked up—her eyes heavy, dark with sleeplessness. She forced herself to sit up straighter, arms reaching out to take her daughter.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Jason passed Thea to her carefully, his hands hovering as if to catch either of them if they fell apart.

Taylor rocked Thea gently, swaying even as she stayed seated. She kissed her daughter’s cheek, her forehead, whispered her name in that lilting, musical voice she always used to calm her.

But it didn’t work today.

Thea’s sobs only grew louder. She twisted in Taylor’s lap, her tiny fists grabbing at her mother’s hospital gown, her eyes full of heartbreak and confusion.

“Da da!” she cried, pointing toward the hallway.

Taylor glanced at Jason helplessly. He stood by the door, hands clenched at his sides, clearly unsure if he should intervene or just wait.

Taylor looked down at Thea again. Her little girl’s face was blotchy, her cheeks flushed from crying. Her voice, raw now, was barely more than a whimper.

“Da da…”

Taylor closed her eyes for a long moment.

Then she sighed—long and hollow.

“Okay, princess,” she whispered. “Let’s go see Daddy.”

Thea stilled immediately, sniffled, and nodded. “Da da.”

Taylor wrapped her good arm around Thea and stood slowly, cradling her close. The weight of her daughter in her arms was comforting and crushing all at once.

Jason opened the door for them without a word and walked beside her down the quiet hallway, just in case.

When they entered the ICU room, it was exactly the same as it had been for five days.

Too quiet. Too clean. Too still.

The monitors beeped steadily, the soft whoosh of oxygen from the nasal cannula rhythmically filling the air. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything.

And there was Travis.

Taylor’s breath caught the second her eyes met him.

He looked the same—pale but strong. Handsome, even with the bruises and the slight swelling. But it was the stillness that killed her. Travis was never still. Even asleep, he’d reach for her in bed, fingers twitching, legs tangled with hers. Always moving. Always present.

Now…

She shifted Thea gently in her arms and approached the bed.

“There he is,” she said softly. “See, Daddy’s just sleeping right now.”

Thea leaned forward, her tiny fingers stretching toward Travis’s hand.

“Da da,” she said again, voice smaller now. Less confident. More confused.

She looked at Taylor.

Why wasn’t he getting up?

Taylor swallowed the lump in her throat. “He’s not feeling well, baby. But he’ll wake up soon, okay?”

Thea turned back to Travis, tears beginning to gather in her eyes again. She reached toward him, her hand brushing his arm. “Da da… da da…”

And then she started to cry.

Softly at first, but then louder, harder cries that shook her little body as if she could sense that something was wrong with her father.

Taylor’s chest cracked open. She had no strength left to fight the pain. Seeing Thea this way—grieving in her own way, confused and scared—it was too much.

Her voice broke as she held Thea tighter. “I know, sweet girl. I know.”

Jason moved behind her, his presence quiet but steady, offering whatever strength he could. He placed a gentle hand on Taylor’s back.

She shook her head. “I didn’t want her to see him like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t want this to be the way she remembers him.”

Jason’s voice was low. “Maybe she won’t remember this part. Maybe she’ll remember how much he loved her. And maybe that’ll be enough.”

Taylor nodded faintly, eyes glassy.

But her thoughts were spiraling again. The fear had been simmering under the surface for days, but now it boiled over.

What if he never wakes up?
What if this is it?
What if she has to raise Thea alone?
What if…

She felt the pressure building in her chest, her breath catching. She turned her head into Thea’s hair and closed her eyes, whispering against her daughter’s curls, “Please come back, Trav. We need you.”

She stood like that for what felt like forever—one arm wrapped around her daughter, her gaze fixed on her silent husband.

She didn’t even notice the tears until Thea reached up again, pressing a tiny palm to her cheek.

“Ma ma cry,” she said, her voice wobbling.

Taylor laughed through the tears—a small, cracked sound. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Mama cries a lot these days.”

She kissed Thea’s head again and gently rocked her.

Eventually, Thea grew quiet, her cries fading into hiccups and sleepy murmurs. Jason stepped in, gently lifting her from Taylor’s arms.

“I’ll take her,” he said. “You should stay.”

Taylor nodded silently.

Once they left, she turned back to Travis. Her knees gave out, and she sank into the chair beside the bed.

She took his hand in both of hers and rested her forehead against their joined fingers.

“You’re missing so much, Trav,” she whispered. “Thea’s getting smarter every day. She keeps asking for you. She wants you to read her that silly dinosaur book again. You remember the one? The one you hated but read twenty times anyway.”

She laughed softly, then sobbed again. “You were always the better parent.”

The room offered only the rhythm of the heart monitor in reply.

Taylor wiped her tears and sat up straighter, brushing her fingers gently through his hair. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you more than anything. But I need you to come back now.”

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

And then she sat in silence, her eyes never leaving his face, hoping—praying—that somewhere inside that still body, he could hear her.

Chapter Text

Seventeen days.

Seventeen impossible, breathless, brutal days passed.

Taylor sat curled into the corner chair of Travis’s ICU room, her knees pulled up, cast tucked against her body, his hand cradled in hers like it was a lifeline — like letting go might be the thing that finally breaks her.

She didn’t cry much anymore — not in the way she had at first. The sobbing had burned itself out somewhere around day nine. What she felt now was deeper, duller. Like grief had moved in and taken over her bones.

There was no music, no sound beyond the endless beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor. It was steady. It was cruel.

Each time she opened her eyes, she half-expected to find him awake. Smiling. Saying, “You didn’t think I was gonna miss this much football, did you?”

But the silence always greeted her first.

He looked peaceful, that was the worst part. Too peaceful. Like he was just resting. Like if she shook his shoulder, he’d grumble and roll over and pull her into his chest the way he always did at home.

But this wasn’t sleep. This was the unknown. The waiting. The purgatory.

“Trav…” she whispered, brushing her thumb gently over his knuckles.

The room didn’t respond.

“I still wear your sweatshirt. The gray one. You know, the one you got barbecue sauce on and then refused to wash because you said it gave it character? It still smells like you.” Her voice broke. “Sometimes I put it on and pretend you’re holding me. I know it’s stupid, but it’s all I have right now.”

Her fingers curled tighter around his hand. “Seventeen days, babe. You’ve missed so much. And I can’t—” she swallowed hard. “I can’t do this much longer without you.”

No answer, of course.

“I’m begging you, please wake up.”

The words hung there for a moment. Desperate. Raw. She tried not to cry, but her throat burned.

“I miss you,” she said, more quietly this time. “Thea misses you too.”

Her grip tightened on his hand. “You should’ve seen her today. She stood for, like, three seconds on her own. I mean, granted, she immediately face-planted into the carpet, but still. You would’ve lost it. I know you would’ve clapped and yelled like she’d just scored a touchdown.”

She sniffled and gave a half-laugh. “And of course, I wasn’t filming it. I was too busy freaking out. I tried to make her do it again for a video but she just stared at me like, ‘Nah, Mom, that was your one shot.’ So… now I have to lie to you and say I got it on video just to keep up appearances.”

Her voice trembled. “But I didn’t. You missed it. And I hate that you missed it.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead on their entwined hands. The weight of the past two and a half weeks collapsed onto her like it did every day. A thousand whispered fears clawed at her mind:

What if this is it? What if he never comes back?

She didn’t want to think it, but the thought was always there — like a shadow that stretched across every hour.

“I can’t breathe without you, Trav,” she whispered. “You said we were forever. So please… please don’t leave me like this.”

She stayed there, forehead pressed to his hand, her body aching from fatigue and heartbreak.

The heart monitor beeped steadily. Mockingly.

She sat back in the chair and looked at him. He looked too perfect. The doctors said that was normal—how sometimes comas made people look weirdly healthy, like their body was just frozen in time. But it made everything worse. He looked like he could wake up any minute. Like he was right there .

“Do you even hear me?” she asked, her voice a whisper. “They say you might. That talking to you could help. So I’ve been talking. I’ve told you about Thea. About what I made for dinner even though I didn’t eat it. About how your mom keeps bringing me casseroles and giving me that look like she’s trying not to cry every time I walk into the room.”

Taylor leaned forward again, brushing her fingers along the edge of his cheek.

“Remember how you said you wanted three kids?” she asked softly. “I told you that was ambitious. You said you’d settle for two and a dog.” She laughed through her tears. “The dog is still up for discussion, by the way. I’m not cleaning up after two babies and a Labrador, no matter how cute it is.”

Her voice cracked. “But I wanted to talk about that again. About number two. About more. About life. About—God, anything.”

She took a shaky breath, wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“I thought maybe if I said something dumb, you’d wake up just to tell me I’m being dramatic.”

She paused.

“So here goes…” she said, sitting up straighter. “You know if you don’t wake up soon, I’m going to have to figure out how to fix the garbage disposal on my own. And you know how that’s going to end. Either I flood the kitchen or I electrocute myself and then Thea’s going to be stuck with your mom and my cats and she’ll grow up thinking garbage disposals are dangerous and should be feared. Which, I guess, technically is true, but still.”

She waited a beat.

“Nothing? Not even a twitch?” She gave a tearful smile. “Tough crowd.”

She looked down at her lap. “I know you’d hate this. Lying in a bed while life moves on without you. You’d be so mad. You’d say you’re missing your baby’s firsts. Missing our late-night talks. Our takeout sushi nights where we don’t even use plates because we’re animals.”

Her voice dropped.

“I didn’t think I’d have to do any of this without you. And now, every day, I wonder if I’ll ever get you back.”

She stood up slowly and moved closer to the bed, brushing his hair back from his forehead, the way she always did when he was sick or tired or just being a grump.

“I keep thinking about our wedding. How you cried more than I did.” She smiled, lost in the memory. “You tried to hide it but the mic picked up your sniffles. I still have the audio. Sometimes I play it when I miss you too much.”

She exhaled sharply, trying to hold herself together.

“I keep thinking—what if you never wake up? What if Thea grows up and never hears your voice, never gets tossed in the air and caught by those big hands she doesn’t even remember yet? What if she forgets you?”

Taylor closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his.

“I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

Then, more softly than before, she whispered, “But I’m scared, Trav. I’m scared of a world without you in it. I’m scared I’m not enough for her. Or for me.”

A silence fell. She stayed there, breathing in his scent, the faint trace of his cologne still clinging to his skin. Time slowed. Or maybe it stopped.

After a long pause, she stepped back and let out a shaky sigh.

“You better wake up soon, Kelce,” she said, trying to keep her voice light again. “Because if you don’t, I’m naming Thea’s first imaginary friend after you, and he’s going to be the worst. Like, ‘Travis the ghost dad who only tells dad jokes and insists we eat cereal for dinner.’ That’s going to be your legacy. Do you really want that?”

Still no movement.

She wiped her face again and leaned down, kissing his forehead.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” she whispered. “I’ll bring Thea. And the video you didn’t get to see. And we’ll tell you all about her latest crimes—like trying to eat a crayon.”

She grabbed her bag from the corner, then turned back, her eyes lingering on him.

“I love you. Don’t forget. Not even in your dreams.”

Taylor walked to the door slowly, then paused, looking back one more time.

“You’re my forever,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Please come back to me.”

And then…

Something shifted.

A twitch.

Her breath caught.

She pulled back, eyes locked on his hand. There— again . A subtle movement. A curl. His fingers tightening around hers.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, then rocketed into her throat so fast she could hardly breathe.

“Trav?” she whispered, voice barely more than air.

She leaned in closer, her hand clutching his like it was the only thing tethering her to this moment. His eyelids fluttered once.

Then again.

Her breath hitched. “Travis?” Her voice cracked. “Hey—baby, are you… are you with me?”

A faint twitch pulled at his brow, his body still, but not empty. And then—slowly, almost painfully—his eyes opened.

Taylor froze.

Everything inside her went still.

The world seemed to stop, like the air itself had paused to watch.

His gaze was unfocused, pupils adjusting, blinking slowly against the sterile light above. His eyes swept the ceiling first, then hesitated—drifting downward, settling on her face.

Her chest rose sharply.

For a fraction of a second, there was silence between them. Silence so loud, it screamed.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope. “Hi… it’s me. Tay.”

He stared at her. Not with recognition. Not with relief. But with something quieter—something clouded.

His brows pinched slightly.

Then his lips parted, and a whisper cracked through the stillness.

“…Taylor Swift?”

The name fell between them like ice water.

She blinked. Confused. “What?”

He tried again, his voice rough, barely there. “You’re… Taylor Swift.”

She let out a shaky laugh—soft, unsure. “Yeah, it’s me. Your wife.”

But the confusion didn’t lift.

His head tilted slightly. “My… wife?”

Her smile dropped. The blood drained from her face in an instant. The color, the light—gone.

She stared at him, her hands trembling where they held his.

“Trav…” she breathed. “Do you know who I am? Not the name. Me. Taylor. Your wife.”

He squinted, brows furrowed like the answer was trapped somewhere just beyond his reach. “You’re… my wife?”

His voice was soft, uncertain.

And Taylor felt her heart fracture in slow motion.

Chapter Text

The room blurred around Taylor. Her breath caught in her throat as the nurse stepped in, responding to the call button Taylor had pressed minutes earlier — just before Travis’s eyes had opened.

She stood slowly, legs trembling beneath her.

“I… I’ll let the doctor check you,” she whispered, backing away from the bed like it physically hurt to leave his side. Her voice cracked, brittle and weak.

The nurse gave her a quick nod and approached the monitors.

Moments later, Dr. Altman entered, followed closely by Jason and Andrea — breathless, panicked — and then Donna, Ed, and Scott right behind them.

Taylor stood in the corner, her arms limp at her sides.

“He’s awake,” she said numbly. The words sounded distant even to her. “He’s awake…”

The room erupted — sighs of relief, gasps, questions.

Jason enveloped her in a hug, followed by Andrea. Donna grabbed her hand, and Scott patted her shoulder. There were tears and shaky laughter and a dozen questions all overlapping.

But Taylor barely heard any of it. She anxiously turned her wedding band around her finger, over and over.

All she could think about was the way Travis had looked at her.

Not with joy. Not with love.

With confusion.

Like she was just another stranger.

The realization kept echoing in her mind like a cruel bell: He didn’t know me.

Not the way he used to.

Dr. Altman quickly took control, gently ushering everyone out of the room. “Let’s give him a moment. He’s just regained consciousness — we don’t want to overwhelm him.”

They followed quietly, eyes still wide with awe and disbelief.

Taylor stepped into the hallway, her hands trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself.

She stood off to the side as everyone murmured in hushed tones. She was dying inside — not from fear anymore, but from the not knowing. What if it was just the drugs? The fog of waking up? What if, in ten minutes, he’d say, “Oh my God, Tay—” and everything would click?

But deep down, she already knew.

Dr. Altman stepped out moments later, her expression calm but serious.

“He’s out of the coma,” she confirmed. “But…”

Everyone stilled.

“He’s experiencing retrograde amnesia,” the doctor continued gently. “To put it simply, he has lost his memories from the past few years. When I spoke to him just now, he believed it was August 2023.”

Taylor couldn’t speak. Her throat closed up, and her eyes darted towards the wall — anything to focus on but this.

Jason cleared his throat. “Is it permanent?”

Dr. Altman shook her head. “There’s no sign of long-term brain damage. I’d like to run an MRI to confirm, but based on initial responses, his motor function and cognition are strong. This seems to be a memory-specific loss, most likely trauma-related. These cases… they often resolve with time.”

Taylor’s face fell.

Her heart dropped like a stone into water — deep, cold, and endless.

She’d waited seventeen days for him to wake up.

And now he was awake… but didn’t remember her.

Jason looked at her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She was trying to breathe. Trying to stand. Trying not to fall apart in front of everyone.

Donna stepped towards her, wrapped her in a soft, grounding hug. Taylor sagged into it like a child.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Donna whispered, stroking her hair. “He’s awake. That’s what matters. The rest… it’ll come. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

Taylor didn’t speak. She just nodded, barely, and whispered, “Okay, ma.”

The nickname came out without thinking. She’d called Donna that for years — long before she married Travis. It was a term of love, of safety.

Donna smiled gently and kissed her temple.

An hour later, they completed the MRI and full physical examination. The family gathered again in the waiting room, anxious.

Dr. Altman returned with an update. “His scans look normal. No brain damage, no swelling, no abnormalities. All vitals stable. That’s very good news.”

Donna interjected quickly, “But the memory?”

The doctor gave a careful nod. “It’s still gone for now. However, in most cases like this — especially when caused by trauma — memory tends to return gradually. Familiar people, places, sensory cues can all help. But we have to be patient.”

Taylor clung to those words. Not permanent. She repeated it over and over in her mind.

Dr. Altman continued, “He’s cleared for visitors. Just… go easy on him.”

Everyone looked at Taylor.

She took a breath. “You all go first. I’ll be there in a minute.”

They nodded and headed into Travis’s room.

Taylor waited until they were out of sight, then hurried to catch up to the doctor.

“Dr. Altman,” she said, stopping her in the hallway. “I need to ask… he clearly doesn’t remember me, or our life together. Should I tell him? About us? Or will that make things worse?”

The doctor smiled warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t like the movies, Taylor. You’re not going to damage him by telling him the truth. Just go slow. Don’t flood him with everything all at once. Focus on familiar things. Keep it simple. Let him adjust.”

Taylor nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

And then she turned, her legs heavy, her chest tight, and walked toward the room that used to feel like a place of hope — now filled with uncertainty.

Everyone stepped cautiously into the ICU room, their breaths held tight in their chests like they were walking into sacred ground. The beeping monitors were steady now. A sign of life. A sign of hope.

And there he was — Travis — awake.

His head rested slightly back against the pillow, eyes open, scanning the faces entering the room. He looked tired, disoriented, but alive. Alive.

Donna gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes welled with tears as she stepped forward. “Oh, my baby…” she whispered, and leaned in to wrap her arms around him gently. She kissed his forehead like she had when he was little. Travis allowed it, blinking slowly.

One by one, everyone came in.

Jason approached the bed and gripped his brother’s hand. “How are you feeling, baby bro?”

Travis exhaled, voice rough and unfamiliar. “I feel… okay, I guess. Sore. Confused.” He looked around again. “What happened? Why can’t I remember anything?”

Jason hesitated. “It’s a long story. And, uh… not a great one.”

Travis looked him dead in the eye. “Just tell me.”

Jason exchanged a look with Donna, then took a breath. “You got shot.”

Travis’s face froze. “What? Shot? By who? Why?”

Jason shrugged tightly. “We’ll get to that. The guy’s in jail. You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Travis opened his mouth to argue but closed it just as quickly. He could feel the energy in the room. Heavy. Fragile. Everyone looked like they were holding something back.

Jason sat at the edge of the bed. “There’s something else I need to ask you.”

Travis frowned. “What now?”

Jason’s expression tightened. “What year do you think it is?”

Travis let out a dry laugh. “What kind of question is that? It’s 2023. Maybe August?”

The moment he said it, something shifted.

The room went still.

He noticed the way Donna looked at Jason. The way Kylie’s lips pressed into a thin line. The way Scott shifted uncomfortably in the back corner.

Travis’s stomach dropped.

He turned his head slowly back to Jason. “What year is it, Jase?”

Jason’s jaw flexed. “Trav…”

“What year is it?” Travis’s voice sharpened.

Jason met his gaze and didn’t look away this time. “It’s December. Twenty-twenty-seven.”

Travis stared at him. His breath slowed. He leaned back against the bedrest like someone had punched the air out of his lungs.

“…I don’t remember the last four years,” he whispered, his voice broken, barely audible.

Panic began to creep in, cold and fast.

Travis turned back to Jason, eyes wide now. “Give me your phone.”

Jason blinked. “Why?”

“Just give it to me, dammit.”

Jason handed it over without another word.

Travis’s fingers moved fast — almost clumsy — as he opened a browser and typed in his own name. Search results flooded the screen in seconds.

His eyes moved quickly. Headlines. Photos.

"Chiefs win back-to-back Super Bowls."

"Travis Kelce announces retirement after stellar 2026 season."

And then—

"Inside Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift’s private wedding ceremony."

Travis’s thumb hovered over the screen, lips parting.

A photo of them together. Laughing. Kissing. Married.

His heart pounded. His face turned pale.

He looked up, stunned. “Is this a joke?”

Jason stood still. “No. It’s real.”

Travis’s voice rose. “This isn’t possible. Taylor Swift? The Taylor Swift?”

He glanced around the room, agitated. “I don’t remember even dating anyone, let alone marrying a global icon. Are you messing with me?!”

Jason stepped forward and gently took the phone back. “Trav. Breathe. You’re okay.”

“You’re asking me to calm down?!” Travis’s voice cracked. “I don’t remember a single thing about my own life—”

A soft sound interrupted him.

The quiet clearing of a throat.

Travis turned his head toward the door.

Taylor had been standing there for several minutes.

She’d seen the confusion. Heard the panic. Watched the disbelief in his eyes as he realized she meant nothing to him anymore.

A tear slid silently down her cheek before she could stop it. And for reasons Travis couldn’t explain, seeing that tear… it hurt.

She wiped it quickly and stepped into the room, her casted arm hanging stiffly at her side.

With quiet grace, she walked to the chair opposite Jason and sat, her voice gentle but composed.

“I know you don’t remember me,” she said softly. “Or us. Or the life we built. But I need you to calm down, okay? I know this is confusing. I can’t imagine how hard it is. But we’re here. We’re all here.”

Travis stared at her — this woman who spoke like she loved him, like she knew him.

She had tears in her eyes, but her strength was evident. There was something in her voice that felt familiar, even if nothing else did.

He took a deep breath. “Okay. But someone please tell me what’s going on. Why am I here? And… what happened to your arm?”

Jason started to speak, but Taylor raised a hand. Her lips were trembling.

She looked directly at Travis.

“It was because of me,” she blurted. “I’m the reason you’re here.”

Her voice broke, and tears spilled out.

Donna stepped forward. “Tay, sweetie—”

But Taylor was already on her feet. She shook her head, biting her lip, and walked out quickly before anyone could stop her.

Kylie gave Jason a quick nod and followed her out. “I’ll check on her,” she murmured.

Travis was left stunned, watching her leave like a part of him had just walked away — even if he didn’t know why it mattered so much.

He turned back to Jason. “What the hell is going on?”

Jason sighed heavily. “It was Thanksgiving. You and Tay were coming over to the house. You barely made it inside the driveway when a guy came out of nowhere. He had a gun. He shot Taylor in the arm. And then he shot you in the chest.”

Travis blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “Why would someone—?”

Jason’s eyes darkened. “He was obsessed. Said he hated the idea of you being with her. That she ruined football, the team, the brand… all that nonsense.”

Travis fell silent, the weight of it all sinking in.

He looked toward the door again. “Why is she blaming herself?”

Jason’s voice softened. “Because someone hurt you because of her. And that’s killing her.”

Travis ran a hand down his face, overwhelmed. “Is she going to be okay?”

Jason offered a thin smile. “Kylie’s with her. Tay’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

But even Jason didn’t believe it completely. His voice had that hollow edge — the one that says I hope so, but I don’t know.

Travis exhaled slowly.

“So what else don’t I remember?”

Jason didn’t sugarcoat it. “A lot.”

The words hit harder than anything else.

Travis leaned back, overwhelmed, trying to breathe through the noise in his head. His whole life — the last four years — erased. All he could do was sit in that hospital bed and try not to drown in the pieces.

Outside the room, Taylor had collapsed into Kylie’s arms, trembling.

Her casted arm hung heavy at her side, but her entire body shook.

Kylie held her tightly, rubbing her back. “It’s not your fault, Tay. You hear me? It’s not your fault that he loved you. That you loved him. It’s not your fault that you both got hurt. And it’s not your fault that he doesn’t remember.”

Taylor clung to her, silent.

“He’ll get them back,” Kylie whispered. “He will. But until then, you have to stay strong. You know him better than anyone. So even if he doesn’t remember… we do. And we’ll remember for him.”

Taylor closed her eyes, a single word falling from her lips like a prayer.

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Taylor hadn’t stepped foot in Travis’s room alone since that day.

She couldn’t.

Not because she didn’t want to. But because she wasn’t ready.

She needed to breathe. She needed to break down before she could show up for him again. She needed time to accept that the man she loved more than anything, the man she’d built a life with—her person, her partner—looked at her now like she was just a familiar stranger.

He didn’t remember their first kiss.

Didn’t remember their wedding vows.

Didn’t remember the daughter they brought into the world.

Didn’t remember her.

The last few days had been filled with the buffer of people—Donna bringing soup and quiet comfort, Jason sitting silently by Travis’s side like a human anchor, Ed trying to lighten the air with old Chiefs highlights. No one asked her to be alone with him. Not out of cruelty—but out of understanding. They all knew she wasn’t there yet.

And neither, it seemed, was Travis.

Especially after the Google incident.

They’d caught Travis scrolling on Jason’s iPad—his fingers moving fast, clumsy, desperate. His name. Her name. Their name. Wedding photos. Headlines. Fan pages. The Internet, relentless in its remembering, had handed him back the pieces of a life he couldn’t feel.

He had gone quiet afterward. Too quiet.
Handed the iPad back like it burned.

After that, Jason quietly locked the iPad. Kylie disabled the search apps. The nurses were asked to keep the TV off.

No more spirals.
No more overload.

But what no one said aloud—what lingered in every glance—was that they were all quietly grateful he hadn’t found out about Thea.

Not yet.
Not through a headline. 

Not through a paparazzi photo or some poorly written gossip piece speculating on Taylor Swift’s life as a mother.

It was a miracle, honestly. That in the chaos of his search, he hadn’t stumbled onto the most important part.

Their daughter.

It was the one truth they hadn’t told him yet.
Not because they didn’t want to.
But because no one knew how.

And today… there would be no buffer.
No Donna. No Jason. No Kylie, hovering gently in the doorway.

For the first time, it would just be the two of them.

Taylor walked slowly down the familiar corridor, her cast resting in a fresh sling, the weight of it less painful than the weight in her chest.
She clutched a lukewarm coffee in one hand—not for drinking, but as a prop. A thing to hold. A thing to focus on.

Her steps were quiet. Careful.
Like she was walking into a room where her heart had once lived—and now waited, in silence, to be remembered.

It was raining.

Not the poetic, soft-focus kind of rain, but the messy, humid kind that frizzed your hair and fogged up your car windows. The kind that soaked through shoes and made everything feel a little heavier than it should.

Taylor sat in the backseat of her car, parked just outside a tucked-away little café Travis had picked. The windshield wipers moved rhythmically, but her thoughts were anything but steady.

She’d arrived ten minutes early — and then hadn’t moved.

The war inside her chest had flared the moment she pulled into the lot. Her heart said go in. Her mind said don’t. She’d been hurt too many times, walked away from too many almosts that turned into nothings. The idea of starting over, of opening herself up again, was terrifying. Her heart whispered, ‘What’s the harm in trying?’ But her brain warned, ‘You know how this ends.’

Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat. A reminder she was supposed to be somewhere else right now — emotionally, if not physically.

And then a knock on her window shattered her spiral.

She looked up, startled, and found Travis standing just outside, his hood up, rain dripping down the sleeves of his jacket, and a crooked, hopeful smile on his face. He waved through the foggy glass.

She rolled down the window, flustered. “Oh—hey! What are you doing out here?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw your car a while ago. Was wondering why you hadn’t come in yet… thought maybe I should check.”

Her cheeks flushed. She scrambled for a lie. “I was just on the phone with my publicist. One of those never-ending calls. Just wrapped up.”

It sounded believable enough, and he didn’t press.

“Ah, the glamorous life,” he said with a grin. “Come on in before we both drown.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said quickly, grabbing her purse.

The café was cozy and warm, with soft lighting and the smell of roasted coffee beans hanging in the air. They were seated at a small table near the window, where rain tapped gently against the glass. The chairs were just a little too close. Their knees almost touched.

Taylor sat upright, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her nerves were still humming. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but the silence between them already felt charged with something she wasn’t ready to name.

Travis glanced around the place and gave her a half-smile. “Let’s agree now—if this goes horribly, we blame the weather.”

That earned him a small laugh from her. The tension in her shoulders eased a notch.

Then he added, “So, should we pretend we’re not nervous, or just embrace the awkward?”

When she entered the room, the lights were dimmed, rain tapping gently against the windows. Travis lay in bed, eyes closed, face turned toward the window.

He looked peaceful.

Her stomach twisted. Peaceful wasn’t always good.

She sat down in the chair by his bedside and stayed quiet. She watched him for a while, taking in the way his chest rose and fell, the faint stubble that had started to grow in again.

Then she stood and quietly stepped out to grab a fresh coffee, needing something to do. Something to hold. Something to keep her hands from shaking.

When she came back, he was still “asleep.”

She scrolled through Instagram mindlessly, sipping the coffee that still tasted like nothing. Another hour passed. Another soft sigh. Another glance at him.

But she knew.

Taylor set her phone down on her lap and looked up at him.

“You know, Trav,” she began softly, “I know you don’t remember me. But I remember you . And I know you, too.”

No response.

Her gaze hardened a little, though her voice stayed kind. “If you don’t want me here, that’s okay. I can wait outside. I only came because I didn’t want you to be alone.” She leaned forward slightly, arms resting on her thighs. “But you don’t have to pretend to be asleep.”

There was a pause.

Then Travis sighed and pressed his lips together, sheepishly cracking one eye open. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just… still processing everything. It’s a lot.”

Taylor nodded. “I get it. Take all the time you need.”

He shifted slightly, finally turning his head to face her. “And… if I remember something, how do I know it’s real? Not just my imagination messing with me?”

Taylor smiled faintly. “Just ask,” she said gently. “If it’s real, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded, thoughtful. The room fell into a thick silence, the only sound the rain lightly hitting the windows.

After a while, Taylor tilted her head toward him. “So…” she said, playful but cautious. “Should we pretend we’re not nervous, or just embrace the awkward?”

Travis huffed a dry laugh. “Good question.”

She reached over to pour herself some water, but as she did, a few drops splashed onto the table.

And in that moment, something shifted behind Travis’s eyes.

She looked at him, amused by his honesty. “I did bring my A-game, but I left it in the car.”

Travis let out a real laugh — loud, unfiltered. Taylor blinked in surprise. People usually smiled politely at her jokes. They didn’t laugh.

“That was… Swift,” he teased, eyes twinkling.

She groaned. “Wow. Low-hanging fruit.”

“I never said I was classy.”

They both laughed then — real, breathy, spontaneous laughter. The kind that lingered. And just like that, something shifted.

“I don’t think we need to be smooth,” he said, picking up the menu. “I think we just need to be real.”

Taylor smiled. “Damn right.”

They ordered coffee and something warm — she wasn’t even sure what she picked. Conversation flowed more easily after that, a mix of stories and jokes and offhand confessions.

“So,” Travis said, leaning forward. “What’s one thing no one knows about you?”

Taylor tilted her head. “I once wrote a breakup song about a completely fictional guy just to see if the internet would try to guess who it was.”

He laughed, clearly impressed. “That’s diabolical.”

She shrugged. “It worked.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “Your turn.”

Travis leaned back and made a show of thinking hard. Then, with a smirk: “I’ve listened to ‘Blank Space’ thirty-seven times trying to figure out if I’d survive dating you. I think I’d make it to verse two. Tops.”

She snorted with laughter, shaking her head. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he said proudly. “Took notes and everything.”

It wasn’t just the joke — it was the way he said it, with that laid-back confidence that didn’t feel performative. He didn’t need to impress her. He was just… him.

And she liked it. Too much, maybe.

She found herself rambling — about the weather, about her favorite pasta, about how she’d always been more of a cat person, even though her cats sometimes ignored her. He listened, grinning like she was the most fascinating person in the world.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous,” he said gently, stirring his coffee.

“I do not,” she protested, just as her elbow caught the edge of her water glass.

It tipped over with a soft clink and a small splash across the table. For the second time.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, grabbing napkins.

Travis leaned in with a grin and handed her one. “If you spill your drink one more time, I’m marrying you.”

Taylor froze mid-laugh, staring at him.

He was smiling, playful, but there was something else behind his eyes. Something kind.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But the air between them had shifted again — softer now, in the best way.

By the end of the night, she did knock over her drink one more time. No one acknowledged it.

He just smiled.

And she blushed.

And neither of them needed to say a word — because in that quiet, clumsy moment, something had begun. Something real.

And they both knew it.

Travis furrowed his brow, a flicker of something crossing his face.
“I said that line to you?” he asked slowly.

Taylor looked up from her coffee cup, confused. “What?”

“That thing about embracing the awkward,” he said, his voice soft with uncertainty. “And... you spilled water. Like three times. On our first date.”

Taylor let out a short, disbelieving scoff. “Of course, of all things , that’s what you remember.”

But then she stopped mid-laugh, a sudden realization blooming across her face.

Her heart skipped.

“Wait,” she whispered, leaning in. “You remember ?”

Travis shifted, uncomfortable but honest.
“Not... not everything. Just bits and pieces about that day,” he said, rubbing his palm against the blanket. “So it’s real, huh?”

Taylor nodded, her smile tender. “Yeah. It’s real.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Softer now. Familiar.

“It’s funny, actually,” Taylor said, her voice dipping into something a little more playful.

Travis tilted his head. “What is?”

She smiled wider, a spark of the old mischief glinting in her eyes.
“That you said you’d marry me... on our first date.”

Travis blinked, thrown. “Why’s that funny?”

Taylor’s smile softened into something almost shy.
“Because you did.”

And for a moment, it felt like they were right back at the start again — nervous, awkward, but somehow still finding each other through the mess.

Chapter Text

Taylor stepped into the hospital that morning, the scent of sanitizer and whitewashed walls hitting her like it always did—cold and clinical. But today felt different. Heavy, in an unfamiliar way.

She had spent the day before at home with Thea. Just the two of them. They baked cookies—well, Thea mostly made a mess with flour—and watched the same animated movie on repeat because Thea had recently decided she was in love with talking forest animals.

It was everything Taylor needed.

Because in the chaos of hospitals and heartbreak, she’d almost forgotten what peace felt like. And Thea, her daughter, her tiny mirror, was peace.

Taylor had heard people say it before, how the love you feel for your child is different than anything you ever experience in life. She used to nod and smile politely. But now? Now she understood. It was terrifying and beautiful . Like watching your heart grow legs and learn how to run—straight away from you, but still somehow always tethered.

And as she had sat on the couch with Thea in her lap, tiny fingers tangled in her curls, Taylor realized she’d forgotten something else.

She had missed her own birthday.

Three years ago to the day, Travis had proposed to her.

It had passed unnoticed by her, buried under the weight of Travis’s coma, the chaos, the hospital walls. She realized it only two days ago, and even though everyone around her had done their best to care, she hadn’t expected anything.

But part of her — the foolish, stubborn part — had hoped he might remember.

Even just a flicker.

God , how had he made her laugh so hard that night?

And now… he didn’t even remember her birthday.

She knew it wasn’t fair to expect him to, but it still hurt.

So when she walked into his room that morning, she was prepared for more of the same. The polite, guarded confusion. The tension of a man trying to remember a life he couldn't feel yet.

But instead, the moment she opened the door—

“Surprise!”

The word hit her like warm light.

She blinked in confusion, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. Everyone was there — Jason, Kylie, Donna, Ed, Andrea, Scott. A simple “Happy Birthday” banner hung across the far wall, strung up with pink ribbon and tape. On the small table near Travis’s bed sat a modest white cake, dotted with candles that hadn’t been lit yet. There were a couple balloons, a bouquet in the corner. Someone had even brought sparkling water in flutes.

Taylor stopped in her tracks, stunned.

Then she smiled, slowly, her eyes shining as she looked around.

“You know I don’t like surprises,” she said, voice soft but touched with affection.

And across the room, Travis’s head turned toward her — something in his expression shifting.

That line.

Something about it tugged at him.

Andrea came forward first, wrapping Taylor in a hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Happy birthday, honey,” she said warmly. “I know it’s six days late, but we thought it was time to celebrate anyway.”

For a moment, Taylor felt transported. It was like being a kid again, wrapped up in safety and love, before the world complicated everything.

She smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Travis, from the bed, kept watching her.

The phrase echoed in his mind: You know I don’t like surprises…

Why did that feel important?

The house was quiet, lit only by the glow of candles and soft string lights along the fireplace mantle. Taylor had been pacing for the past ten minutes, the food warming on the stove, the wine uncorked and breathing. She checked the time again.

Travis’s flight had landed. He’d texted when he got into the car.

Her nerves buzzed — not out of doubt, but out of excitement. They’d won again. She was so proud. The entire night had been planned down to the last detail, everything ready for him.

The front door opened.

Footsteps echoed across the hardwood.

And then his voice: “Baby, I’m home.”

She moved before she even thought, meeting him at the entryway with open arms. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in months.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured into her hair.

“Thank you.”

He kissed her back, deeply.

“Missed me, huh?” he asked, pulling back with a wink.

“A lot.”

She nudged him playfully. “Go shower. I’m starving. Move your cute butt.”

He gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Be quick!” she called after him, already heading to the kitchen.

Dinner was exactly what she’d hoped for. They laughed, shared bites from each other’s plates, toasted to wins and ordinary joys. There was nothing grand about it, but it felt like the kind of night she’d remember forever.

After dinner, while Taylor was clearing dishes and Travis was supposedly making a work call, he snuck back into the kitchen.

And slipped a blindfold over her eyes.

“Travis!” she gasped, reaching for it.

He caught her hands. “Leave it. I have a surprise.”

She groaned. “Surprise? You know I don’t like surprises.”

He leaned in and whispered, “I know. But I’m willing to take the risk.”

Taylor stood near the cake now, laughing softly with Jason as everyone passed around plates. She glanced over at Travis, who was watching her.

He hadn’t said much, but his eyes hadn’t left her.

When their gazes finally met, she saw it — something shifting. A glimmer. A flicker of something deeper than curiosity.

He looked down, almost frowning.

“You okay?” Jason asked him.

Travis nodded slowly, then whispered under his breath, “She said that before. About surprises…”

Jason looked at him.

But Travis didn’t say anything, for a long time.

But something had stirred.

He led her carefully through the house and out the back door. The air was cold but not biting — clear and still.

“Okay,” his voice called out from a few steps away. “Take it off.”

She removed the blindfold.

And froze.

A path of rose petals and golden fairy lights stretched out before her, winding to the backyard tree. The tree itself was glowing, wrapped in soft lights, and beneath it, Travis stood in a circular space marked by candles and flower petals.

Taylor’s hand went to her mouth. “Trav… what is this?”

He smiled. “Why don’t you come here?”

She walked towards him slowly, her breath shaking. She knew. She knew what was happening, but it still felt like a dream.

He took her hands.

Her mouth opened in shock.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Before he could speak, she blurted out: “Yes!”

Travis laughed through his tears. “Let me ask first!”

He took a breath. “That day I stepped into the stadium and saw the world’s biggest pop star, I never thought I’d get to meet her — let alone fall in love with her.”

Her tears flowed freely now.

“But you know what they say… all along, there was an invisible string tying you to me.”

Taylor laughed, sobbing.

He continued, voice trembling: “I saw you were perfect — and I loved you. Then I saw your imperfections… and I loved you even more. I want to keep loving you forever.”

He pulled a ring box from his pocket and knelt down on one knee.

A sign on the tree lit up behind him in glowing cursive: Will You Marry Me?

“I want to be your happily ever after,” he said, “if you’ll take me, Taylor Alison Swift. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she choked out, “oh my God, yes.”

And then — in a moment of truly iconic Kelce fashion — he opened the box upside down. The ring flew out and landed in the grass.

“Oh, come on!” he groaned, eyes wide.

Taylor burst out laughing. “Are you serious?!”

He dropped to the ground frantically. “Help me find it, quick — I swear I practiced this!”

Still laughing, she knelt beside him, both of them on their hands and knees in the grass.

“You better have a hidden camera,” she said between giggles, “because no one is going to believe this happened.”

“I do, but I’m editing this part out.”

“The hell you are.”

When he finally found it, he slipped the ring on her finger. Taylor pulled him into a kiss, fierce and full of joy. “I love you,” she whispered, hugging him tightly.

And as she pulled back, eyes still glistening, she teased, “I still can’t believe you opened the box upside down.”

Travis groaned. “Don’t make that the story!”

She laughed harder. “That’s the story, Kelce.”

They laughed together, wrapped in fairy lights, sealed by a promise.

Chapter Text

It had been more than a week since Travis woke up, and the shock of seeing Taylor—the Taylor Swift—sitting by his hospital bed had dulled into something quieter, something steadier. He didn’t know her, not in the way he once did, but the fog between them had started to thin.

He’d stopped flinching every time she touched his hand. He didn’t watch her like she was a stranger anymore. Sometimes, he even looked at her like he was trying to remember .

And Taylor—she had stopped waiting for a miracle to happen overnight.

She’d stopped expecting him to say her name like it meant something. She’d stopped aching at the silence between them. Well— tried to stop aching. It still hurt. But now, it was a dull ache. A survivable one.

She had made peace with one truth: she needed to meet him where he was, not where she wanted him to be.

That’s why she’d decided to stay in Philly for a while—until he was ready to come home. Until they were ready.

Travis was being discharged tomorrow. A moment she’d dreamed of for weeks, but now that it was real, a knot twisted in her stomach. Because going home wasn’t just about healing—it was about remembering what they had built. And in that home… was Thea.

Their daughter.

He didn’t know about her yet.

Taylor had held off telling him. Not because she didn’t want him to know—but because she needed him to be ready . She needed him to have a foundation first, some mental footing to stand on before she hit him with the weight of a life he didn’t remember choosing.

But now… it was time.

They were alone in his hospital room. Jason and Donna had visited earlier in the morning, bringing coffee and warm smiles before slipping out again to run errands. The quiet had settled gently now, like snow.

Taylor sat beside his bed, picking at the sleeve of her sweater. Her heart was thudding in her chest, but her face betrayed nothing.

She stood and moved toward the foot of his bed, folding her arms, trying to steady herself. “Hey,” she began, her voice soft, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Travis straightened, immediately sensing the seriousness in her tone. “Yeah, tell me.”

She took a breath. “So, you’re getting discharged tomorrow. And we’ll all be staying in Philly for a few days—just until we figure out when to go back to Kansas.”

Travis nodded, his brows slightly raised, waiting for more.

“There are… a few things we’ve put off telling you,” she continued, voice tight. “We wanted you to have time to process the memory loss. To adjust to the idea that I’m your wife.”

She gave a hollow laugh, not bitter—just tired.

Travis tilted his head slightly. “Okay…”

Taylor smiled gently. “So, Jason and Kylie? They had another daughter. Her name’s Finnley Anne. She was born March 30th, 2025. Fourth girl in the Kelce house.”

Travis’s eyes lit up. “A fourth girl? Man, Jase is gonna be outnumbered forever. That’s wild.”

Taylor grinned. “She loves you. Like, adores you.”

“She does?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But, I mean… I am her favorite.”

Travis laughed, full and easy. “We’ll see about that.”

Their eyes locked, and for a second, the air thickened between them — full of something unspoken. Familiar. The kind of silence that only came when two people understood each other, even if only one remembered it.

His gaze lingered on her just a second longer than necessary, and for a heartbeat, she imagined he remembered everything. Their mornings. Their firsts. Their fights and their forgiveness.

But then the moment passed, and she cleared her throat, pushing forward.

“There’s… also something else,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Rather… someone.”

His expression changed — a slight furrow between his brows. He picked up on the hesitation immediately. But instead of recoiling, he reached out.

His hand found hers, large and warm, and it felt like a lifeline.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Tell me.”

Taylor’s throat tightened. Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall — not yet. “We have a daughter,” she whispered. “Her name is Theodora Marjorie. We call her Thea. She’s a year old now. She was born September 18, 2026.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Travis’s entire body stilled. His face shifted — from surprise to confusion to something deeper, something quieter. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment it was like he didn’t breathe at all.

I’m a father.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came. He looked lost — as if someone had told him he had a home he’d never stepped into.

Taylor's pulse thudded in her ears as she gently said his name. “Travis?”

He looked at her then, really looked. A single tear slid down his cheek before he realized it, and he wiped it away quickly with the back of his hand.

“Hmm?” His voice cracked.

She reached for him again, holding his hand. Her thumb traced soft, calming circles on his skin. He looked down at their hands — hers small and familiar in his — like something precious he didn’t know he’d missed.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. Barely. “I just… I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Take your time.”

He stared at their joined hands, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I have a daughter.”

Taylor’s voice cracked, “Yeah.”

“I’m a… dad?”

She nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You always said you wanted to be one. A big family, a noisy house. You always talked about it.”

Travis’s hand lifted to his face and he quickly wiped at a tear before it fully fell. He shook his head in disbelief. “God,” he whispered. “Why can’t I remember that ?”

Taylor scooted a little closer and placed her other hand over his. “It’s okay,” she said, voice barely steady. “You will. It’ll come back. But she—she misses you, Trav. She asks about you every day.”

“She does?”

Taylor nodded. “You wanna see her?”

Taylor pulled out her phone and tapped through the gallery. She turned the screen toward him and slid closer. Photo after photo passed between them: Thea’s tiny feet curled in his massive hands. Thea napping on his chest, her hand fisted in his shirt. Thea on a beach with Taylor, covered in sand. The three of them — arms tangled, smiles glowing, pure joy frozen in pixels.

As he scrolled, Taylor narrated — telling him the stories behind each one. How Thea hated peas but loved bananas. How she tried to eat a sticker once. How Travis used to hum "You Are My Sunshine" while rocking her to sleep.

Travis chuckled, pausing on a photo. “She’s your carbon copy, Tay. Like… are you sure I played any role in those genes?”

Taylor smirked. “She damn well was a Kelce. She weighed eight pounds, four ounces.”

They both laughed — really laughed — and something eased between them.

For the next hour, he kept asking questions. About Thea. About their life together. About everything he missed. And Taylor answered all of them, with patience, with heart, and with an ache of joy she hadn’t felt in weeks.

Eventually, visiting hours were winding down.

Taylor stood, collecting her things — her scarf, her phone charger, the empty coffee cup. Travis watched her move across the room, a quiet fondness growing in his chest. Something that didn’t feel like newness, but recognition .

Before she reached the door, he spoke again.

“I really wonder…” he paused, voice soft, “How did I get so lucky? I mean, you— you’re Taylor Swift. You’re… too good for me.”

She froze.

Something about the way he said it.

The cadence. The tilt of his head. The vulnerability.

She turned back to him slowly, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Because,” she said gently, meeting his eyes, “you’re worth it.”

And just like that—

The soft hum of laughter and conversation filled the warm, firelit space of Taylor and Travis’s Kansas City home. Outside, the winter air bit at the windows, but inside, it was all golden light, clinking glasses, and the scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke. The house was dressed for the occasion—twinkling string lights across every beam and garland wrapped around the banister. It wasn’t over-the-top, just…homey. Full of soul.

This was their first New Year’s Eve together as an engaged couple.

They had kept it quiet since the proposal—just soaking in the moment, letting it be theirs for a little while. But tonight, with both families gathered under one roof, it felt like the right time to share it.

Travis cleared his throat halfway through dinner, resting his hand over Taylor’s. She looked up, already knowing.

“We’ve got a little news,” he said, eyes twinkling. “A small announcement.”

Andrea put down her wine glass.

Donna raised an eyebrow knowingly.

Taylor smiled and lifted her hand—and there it was, the ring, catching the light, sparkling with the kind of quiet magic that didn’t need fanfare.

For a second, there was silence.

Then a chorus of gasps, followed by an eruption of cheers and clapping.

“Oh my God!” Kylie stood up and threw her hands in the air. “You two! You finally did it!”

Jason laughed, shaking his head at Travis. “About damn time, man.”

Taylor was instantly enveloped in hugs—Donna, Ed, her mom and dad. Travis got his fair share too, shoulders clapped and backs patted. Even Ed—stoic and steady Ed—had tears brimming in his eyes.

That moment, it was just joy. Pure, unfettered joy.

A warm, candlelit, love-soaked dream where her parents were smiling and Travis’s mom called her “my daughter” and her ring sparkled when she lifted her glass.

“Did you two decide on a date yet?” Donna asked as they settled back down.

Taylor and Travis exchanged a look.

“No,” they said in unison.

Andrea leaned in, teasing. “Okay, any thoughts on a venue?”

Taylor shook her head, laughing. “Not even close.”

“Season, maybe?” Ed offered. “Summer? Fall?”

Taylor and Travis groaned, laughing, and repeated, “Nope.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, playing the straight man. “Are we sure you even want to get married?”

“YES!” they both said at once, so loudly and without hesitation that the entire table burst into laughter.

Travis rolled his eyes playfully and reached for Taylor’s hand again.

“Just because we haven’t picked out colors or cake flavors,” she said with mock offense, “doesn’t mean we’re not committed.”

“Alright, alright,” Andrea said, hands up. “We’ll ease off. For now.”

Everyone laughed again, wine glasses refilled, stories swapped. The fire crackled in the background, and Taylor caught herself glancing at Travis more than once. She still couldn’t believe he was hers. That he chose her.

Later, after dinner, everyone moved to the backyard. The patio heater buzzed softly, blankets were passed around, and the bonfire flickered under the December stars.

Jason’s kids were putting on their own little show—singing made-up songs and doing dramatic bows. Kylie was filming everything on her phone, and Andrea was wiping happy tears from her eyes.

When the fake countdown for the kids hit “midnight,” they all screamed and tossed handfuls of biodegradable confetti into the air. The little ones were bundled up and passed around for goodnight kisses before being taken inside for bedtime.

The backyard quieted.

A calm settled in—music drifting from a small outdoor speaker, the kind of music that made you sway without realizing.

Travis stood and extended a hand toward Taylor, his voice low and sweet. “Dance with me?”

She glanced at him, then at their parents, mid-conversation around the firepit.

“Trav,” she whispered, “it’s rude to interrupt.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Hey, family,” he called out, “you mind if I steal her for a bit?”

“Steal away!” Donna called.

“Just bring her back!” Jason added.

Taylor gave him a look of amused disbelief. “You are impossible.”

Travis shrugged with a smug grin. “I’m just a guy who wants some time with his girl.”

She stood and walked toward him, arms slipping around his neck as his hands found her waist.

“Is that right?” she said softly.

“That’s right,” he murmured, swaying them gently to the rhythm of a classic love song humming from the speaker.

Taylor smiled, her forehead resting against his. The cold air kissed her cheeks, but she barely felt it. All she felt was him.

She tilted her head back slightly. “You know,” she said quietly, “your mom told me I’m too good for you.”

Travis chuckled. “She would.”

“I told her you were worth it,” Taylor said.

Travis paused. His smile softened. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

Her heart squeezed. She laid her head on his chest, eyes closed.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you,” she said, not even realizing she’d spoken aloud.

He held her tighter. “You never have to find that out,” he said firmly. “Because you’ll never lose me.”

“You promise?”

He kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

They danced like that for a while—quiet and steady. No theatrics, no cameras. Just the soft crackle of firewood, the smell of winter, and the man she loved more than she’d ever thought she could.

Eventually, Taylor lifted her head and grinned. “We really should start thinking about our white veil occasion.”

Travis blinked. “Our what?”

Taylor burst into laughter. “Our wedding, babe.”

Understanding dawned on his face and he laughed. “You are something else.”

Click.

They turned to the sound of a camera shutter.

Kylie grinned from the edge of the patio, phone in hand. “You two are like, lovesick on another level.”

Travis kissed Taylor’s cheek. “Can you blame us?”

Taylor tilted her head, eyes shining. “I kinda like being lovesick.”

They kissed again. This time slower, softer—like sealing a promise they didn’t have to speak aloud.

Travis blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as if something had just brushed against the edge of his mind.

The next day, at Jason and Kylie’s house, he’d been casually exploring the hallway when he paused in front of a photo frame sitting on a small shelf. It was the picture Ky had taken—New Year’s Eve, 2024. The bonfire glowing behind them, a soft snow beginning to fall. Taylor was wrapped in his arms, their eyes locked mid-laugh. Frozen in a moment of pure, unfiltered joy.

He stared at it longer than he meant to.

His hand hovered over the frame, not quite touching it.

Something flickered.

A pull. A spark. Not a memory exactly—but something close . Like hearing a melody you’ve forgotten the lyrics to, but still remembering the way it made you feel.

His chest tightened.

He couldn’t name it. Couldn’t explain it. But it was there .

And later that day, when she turned to leave the room—shoulder brushing the doorframe, sunlight catching in her hair—he found himself watching her with a different kind of curiosity.

Not like someone trying to remember a famous face.

But like someone trying to remember a home .

She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did. But she didn’t turn around.

And he didn’t call after her.

He just stood there, quietly wondering—

Why does she feel like something I once knew by heart? Maybe because you did.

Like someone he hadn’t just seen in a picture…
But someone who had once belonged to him.

Maybe still did.

Chapter Text

The rehearsal dinner had just ended, and the air still carried the notes of clinking glasses, laughter echoing between the tall cypress trees, and the soft instrumental music that had played over candlelight. The villa shimmered under the moonlight, its ancient stone walls bathed in golden hues, wrapped in ivy and time.

Taylor had barely touched her wine. Not out of nerves—but because she kept getting lost in the moment. ‘How is this my life?’ she thought as she watched their families laughing over dessert, the sparkle of the ring on her finger catching the firelight.

Sometimes, in her quietest moments, she would ask God—’Are you sure? Are you sure I’m allowed to be this happy?’

She didn’t always trust the answer.

Now, the night was winding down. Guests were being escorted to their rooms tucked along the edges of the estate. Tradition called for separation—no bride and groom under the same roof the night before. But Taylor and Travis had made a quiet deal to steal a moment, just one, before they parted ways.

Taylor stood barefoot just outside the villa’s main hall, the cool stone under her feet grounding her in a moment that still didn’t feel entirely real. Her hair was tousled by the soft night breeze, her gown replaced by a simple silk slip dress that clung to her like second skin. The stars overhead blinked down like they knew something she didn’t.

Her hand was already in his.

Travis, dressed in a soft white linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves, held her fingers like he had always known how. The warmth of his palm against hers was the only answer her heart ever needed.

They were just about to slip away from the crowd, intending to steal a quiet moment by the lake, when Kylie called after them with a teasing grin.

“I swear to God, if I find you two in the same room tonight…”

Taylor turned around and laughed, throwing a hand in the air. “Okay, Mom!”

Kylie laughed. “You better show up to the aisle tomorrow well-rested.”

“We will,” Travis called back, tugging Taylor gently toward the garden path, his thumb brushing across the back of her hand. “Promise.”

They wandered down to the water’s edge, where the moonlight spilled over the lake in a silver ribbon. The gentle lapping of water against the stone was the only sound between them for a while. It was the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.

Taylor leaned into him, her back against his chest. Travis wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin lightly on her head. His presence was so solid, so sure. The warmth of his body behind her made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t known she needed until she found him.

They watched the moon hide and peek behind the soft, cottony clouds that moved slowly above the still lake.

Taylor spoke without looking at him. Her voice was quiet, uncertain. “You know, Trav… you still have time.”

His brow furrowed, confused. “For what?”

“To change your mind,” she said. “To leave.”

There was a beat.

And then—

“Oh, okay,” he said matter-of-factly. He let go of her and took a dramatic step back, turning as if to walk away.

Taylor scoffed and half-laughed. “Travis!”

He turned on his heel, grinning like the goof he was, and came right back, wrapping his arms around her again. “Yeah?”

“I’m serious,” she said, biting her lip. Her voice had a tremor now. “I’m giving you an out. If there’s any part of you that’s unsure… you can go. No hard feelings. I promise.”

Travis didn’t laugh this time. He didn’t joke.

Instead, he tightened his grip around her waist, pressing her gently closer.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice low. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

Taylor turned around in his arms and buried her face in his chest, blinking hard against the tears she hadn’t expected.

He kept going. “And listen, I used the strongest glue I could find. You remember the Gorilla Glue? The super industrial kind? That’s us now. You’re stuck with me, forever.”

She let out a tearful laugh against him. “You’re such a dork.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead. “But I’m your dork.”

She looked up, her chin resting on his chest, her hands fisting lightly in his shirt. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real,” she said.

Travis kissed her slow and sure, then pulled back just enough to whisper, “And what do you think now?”

Taylor blinked at him. “I think you’re not real.”

He grinned and pressed his nose against hers, the way he always did when he was being affectionate and smug. “Well, I am. I’m real. I’m here. And tomorrow—”

He gently brushed her hair back behind her ear.

“Tomorrow, I get to call you my wife.”

Her heart swelled.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you more,” he replied. “But we can fight about that for the rest of our lives.”

She hugged him tight, soaking in the moment, the feel of his arms around her, the smell of pine and his cologne, the sound of water meeting shore, the future spinning quietly into place.

The morning sun kissed the villa gently, as if even it knew this day was sacred.

Taylor’s bridal suite overlooked the shimmering expanse of Lake Como, where the water glistened like silk under the golden light. The stone balcony was dotted with delicate white flowers and fluttering ivory curtains. Below, in the courtyard, the quiet hum of last-minute preparations began to build—florists arranging the final petals along the aisle, chairs being set with hand-calligraphed name cards, and the soft strings of a quartet playing a familiar love song.

Inside, Taylor stood still in front of the mirror. The room smelled of fresh roses and her perfume—warm vanilla and jasmine. Her gown cascaded around her like a breath of heaven, all soft lace and whispers of silk. The veil flowed behind her, embroidered with tiny, delicate stars sewn into the hem—her nod to the lyrics she once wrote, and the dreams that led her here.

Her heart was racing. But it wasn’t fear. It was awe. How did I get this lucky?

Andrea fastened her bracelet while Kylie carefully smoothed the veil and whispered that Travis had already cried twice just seeing the ceremony space.

Donna stepped in, holding a tissue box. “This boy’s going to need a hydration break before you even get down the aisle,” she teased.

Everyone laughed, but Taylor just smiled quietly. Her throat tightened. ‘That’s my man.’

“You look like someone straight out of a fairytale,” Andrea whispered.

“I feel like one,” Taylor said softly.

The quiet moment was interrupted by Kylie, holding up a makeup sponge like a weapon. “Okay, if anyone cries again, I swear I’m revoking mascara privileges.”

They chuckled, but Taylor’s eyes welled up anyway.

She pressed her palm to her chest, steadying her breath.

‘This is real.’

Downstairs, the ceremony space had been transformed into something out of a storybook. An aisle of scattered flower petals curved gently toward a wooden arbor wrapped in ivory chiffon, delicate green vines, and wild white roses. The lake provided a stunning backdrop—calm, infinite, timeless.

Guests were already seated, hushed with anticipation.

Travis stood at the altar, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He looked devastatingly handsome in a crisp black  tux, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze. Jason stood beside him as best man, whispering something that made Travis laugh through tears. He tugged at his cufflink, then ran a hand over his mouth and tried to remember how to breathe.

Then the music changed.

Everyone rose.

And there she was.

Taylor appeared at the top of the stone steps, her father beside her, her veil catching the breeze, her smile trembling like a secret just discovered.

Travis’s eyes widened. His breath hitched. And before he could help it, tears spilled down his cheeks.

Jason leaned in. “Told you to bring tissues, man.”

Taylor walked slowly, her gaze never leaving his. And the closer she came, the more the world fell away.

Her arm was looped through her father's. She looked like a dream in motion, sunlight catching the shimmer of her veil, tears already beginning to spill down her cheeks.

Travis blinked rapidly, trying to keep it together. “Why can’t we stop crying?” he muttered under his breath.

But it came out louder than intended, and the entire gathering chuckled.

Taylor, arriving at the altar, wiped at her cheek. “No idea,” she whispered with a teary laugh, “but I don’t think it’s stopping any time soon.”

They held each other’s hands as if it was the first time and the last. The world faded away. Just the lake. Just the sky. Just them.

The ceremony was filled with light — not just from the sun, but from the way they looked at each other, like everything they’d been through had led them here.

They exchanged vows, written in secret, meant only for the other.

Taylor took a shaky breath, her eyes shimmering with emotion. She held both of his hands tightly, grounding herself in the feel of him — warm, steady, real, “You know… I’ve spent so much of my life trying to make sense of stories — writing them, singing them, living them. And somewhere along the way, I started thinking that maybe the kind of love I wrote about wasn’t really meant for me. That maybe it was only real in lyrics or fairytales. But then... you happened.”

She smiled softly through the tears, her voice catching, “Every step I’ve taken — every heartbreak, every wrong turn, every lonely night on the road — it was all leading me here. To you. To this moment. And now that I’m standing here, I can say with my whole heart that I would do it all over again, just to find you sooner.”

A soft laugh rippled through the guests, but Taylor’s eyes never left his, “It’s not that I couldn’t live life on my own — I could. I have. But with you… I don’t have to. I don’t want to. You are not just my partner. You’re my calm in chaos, the warmth in my winters, the voice in my corner even when the world is loud. You are my best friend, my loudest cheerleader, my soft place to land. You are the safety I didn’t know I needed and the adventure I never saw coming.”

She squeezed his hands gently, “You are my home, Travis. You always have been. And no matter where life takes us, no matter how high the highs or how deep the lows, I will choose you. I will fight for us. I will grow with you. I will hold your hand in the dark and dance with you in the light.”

Her voice trembled as she said the last words, barely louder than a whisper, “You have my heart. Forever. I love you. In every language, in every lifetime, in every way I know how.”

Travis blinked quickly, trying — and failing — to keep his composure. He took a deep breath, looked at her, and let the love show in every line of his face, “You know… I never thought I’d get this lucky. There were years where I stopped believing I’d find this. Someone who would truly see me — the mess, the scars, the chaos — and not just stay… but love me even more for it.”

His voice cracked, and he gave a small laugh, brushing a tear away, “When you came into my life, everything shifted. You didn’t just light up the room — you lit up something in me. Something I didn’t even know was missing until you filled it. You make everything brighter. Fuller. Real.”

He looked down for a second, then back into her eyes, “Since the day we met, I’ve felt like I was walking beside something extraordinary. And every single day since, I’ve fallen more in love with who you are — your heart, your brilliance, your quiet strength, your ridiculous laugh when you think no one’s listening.”

The guests chuckled warmly, “I promise to love you in ways that are loud and in ways that are quiet. I promise to listen — not just to your words, but to the pauses between them. I promise to always root for your dreams, even when they scare me. I promise to build a life with you — full of music, midnight snacks, spontaneous slow dances in the kitchen, and holding hands through every unknown.”

He took a small step closer, “I will laugh with you when life is sweet. I will cry with you when it’s hard. I will protect you with everything I am, and I will never stop trying to be a man worthy of your love. You are my once-in-a-lifetime, my miracle, my muse, my whole damn heart.”

He grinned through the tears, “I still don’t know how I got you. But I do know this — I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret saying yes to me.”

The crowd had quieted, completely spellbound — the kind of silence that didn’t ask for words. Even the breeze that carried through the garden seemed to pause, like it, too, was holding its breath for them.

The officiant gave them both a warm smile, her voice gentle, reverent, “Taylor and Travis, you’ve chosen to write your own vows, and now you’ve spoken them from your hearts. These promises are not just words. They’re the threads you’ve chosen to bind your lives together.”

Taylor wiped a tear from her cheek. Travis instinctively brushed his thumb over her hand, “It is now time for the rings — symbols of a love that has no end.”

Jason stepped forward, placing the small velvet box in Travis’s hand. For a second, Travis stared at it, eyes misty. Then he opened it and pulled out a delicate gold band — simple, elegant, timeless. Just like her.

He held her left hand gently, voice soft but steady, “This ring is a promise. That no matter what comes, I’m yours — in every lifetime.”

He slid the ring onto her finger, and she bit her lip, holding back the emotion surging through her.

Kylie handed Taylor the second ring — slightly thicker, masculine, engraved with words only the two of them knew. Taylor looked up at him, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she held his, “With this ring, I give you every part of me. Every dream. Every flaw. Every hope. This is my yes — today, tomorrow, always.”

The metal kissed his finger as she slipped it on, and they both exhaled at the same time — two hearts finding rhythm.

The officiant looked at them, her voice brighter now, “You’ve spoken your vows. You’ve exchanged your rings. And now, by the power vested in me… I pronounce you husband and wife.”

She smiled, eyes twinkling.

“Travis, you may kiss your bride.”

He didn’t hesitate.

He stepped forward, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her like he had been waiting his whole life just for that moment — slow, sure, reverent. Not for the cameras. Not for the guests. Just for them.

The crowd erupted — cheers, applause, whistles. Donna was crying openly, Andrea had both hands over her heart, and Jason slapped Travis’s shoulder when they finally pulled apart, both laughing and teary-eyed.

They turned to face their friends and family, hands intertwined, hearts racing.

And then they walked back up the aisle together — this time not as boyfriend and girlfriend, not as partners, not as just two people in love.

But as husband and wife.

Their first dance was under the stars. The string quartet played a slowed-down orchestral version of “Lover” as Taylor stepped barefoot onto the dance floor with Travis, who had already taken his shoes off to match her.

He spun her gently, then pulled her close, hands on her waist, forehead to forehead.

“You okay, wife?” he murmured.

Taylor smiled through her tears. “Never been better, husband.”

The early light filtered through the curtains, warm and golden. It smelled faintly of cinnamon — someone must’ve started coffee. Travis blinked against the light, a strange weight lingering on his chest. Not heavy, not painful.

Just… full .

He sat up slowly, brushing a hand over his face. He’d been dreaming — not like the weird, jumbled ones from earlier in the week. This one had been clear. Too clear.

The lake.

Stone walls behind them.

Fairy lights.

Her laugh.

Taylor, in a white dress, pressed against his chest. His arms around her. A kiss soft enough to break him.

Her voice — not a whisper, not a memory — but present , “You are my home, Travis. You always have been.”

He exhaled slowly.

What the hell was that?

He got up, padded barefoot into the hallway, and wandered toward the kitchen, the dream still clinging to his skin like mist.

Jason stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with a messy kind of focus, “You’re up early,” he said, glancing over. “Sleep okay?”

Travis scratched the back of his neck, nodding absently. “Yeah. I think.”

Jason raised a brow at the hesitation. “You think?”

Travis grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee. For a while, they just stood there in silence — the kind that only exists between brothers. Comfortable. Unfiltered.

Finally, Travis spoke, his voice quieter than usual, “I had this dream. It felt… real. Like, not just real in the way dreams sometimes feel. But like something I’d lived.”

Jason flipped the last pancake and turned off the burner, “What kind of dream?”

Travis hesitated, “Taylor. And me. After a wedding, I think. I don’t know if it was the wedding. But we were outside, at night. There were lights everywhere. We were just... dancing. Laughing. She said I was her home.”
He paused,  “And I said it back. I remember how it felt. Like my chest couldn’t hold all of it.”

Jason leaned against the counter, folding his arms, the usual playfulness on his face gone now, “That sounds like your wedding night.”

Travis looked up, startled. “Wait — that actually happened?”

Jason nodded slowly. “Yeah. Villa del Balbianello, Italy. You two got married on the water, under the lights. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other that whole night. We all pretended not to notice.”

Travis let out a soft breath, a mixture of awe and disbelief. “So it wasn’t just a dream.”

Jason shook his head. “Your heart remembers, man. Even if your head’s taking its time.”

“She told me in the dream that she’d choose me. Every day. Through everything.”

Jason’s voice was gentle now. “She still does.”

Travis looked down into his coffee, the emotion swelling under his ribs, “I didn’t think you could feel something you don’t remember.”

Jason smiled faintly, “With her? Yeah. You can.”

The music had faded. The final champagne flutes had been emptied. Guests had returned to their suites or meandered off into the warm Italian night, leaving only the distant lapping of water from Lake Como and the faint echo of laughter carried by the breeze.

The air smelled of lilac, candle wax, and something sweet — a mix of wedding cake and night-blooming jasmine. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, strung through olive trees and wrapped around the stone columns of the villa. Their glow reflected off the lake, painting the ripples in gold.

Taylor was barefoot, her heels long discarded. Her dress was a little wrinkled from the dancing, her curls falling loose from the pins. And yet, she had never looked more radiant.

Travis stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting gently on the top of her head. They were in the garden terrace behind the villa, just the two of them — no cameras, no guests, no expectations.

Just them.

The lake spread out before them like a story still unfolding. The moon was low, casting a silver trail across the water. Cicadas hummed softly in the trees.

Taylor leaned back into him, sighing like the day was finally catching up to her. “You know,” she whispered, “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

Travis chuckled low into her hair. “If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.”

They stood like that for a moment — swaying slightly, letting the stillness settle around them.

Then, almost instinctively, Travis held out his hand, “Dance with me, Mrs. Kelce.”

Taylor let out a breathy laugh, her eyes softening, “No music.”

“We don’t need it.”

She slipped her hand into his. They moved in slow circles under the trees, the hem of her dress sweeping softly across the old stone tiles.

It wasn’t a choreographed dance, or one meant to impress. It was simple. Honest. The way two people hold each other when nothing else matters.

“You are my home, Travis,” she whispered as her forehead rested against his. “You always have been.”

He closed his eyes for a beat — overcome. “And you’re mine.”

They didn’t say anything else after that. They didn’t need to. The moment spoke for itself.

When Taylor finally pulled back just enough to look up at him, her voice was a murmur. “Promise me something?”

Travis nodded. “Anything.”

“That no matter what happens… no matter how hard life gets, you’ll find your way back to me.”

His throat tightened. He pressed his lips to her temple, then down to the corner of her mouth.

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Taylor had always imagined a kind of forever.

The quiet kind. The kind that didn’t need a stage or a spotlight. She wanted the soft promise of routines: late-night talks in the kitchen over shared ice cream, Sunday mornings in bed with the cat wedged between them, a hand reaching for hers in the dark. A home. A life. A safe place.

She’d always wanted marriage—but not just the ceremony or the pictures. She wanted the thing. The real thing. Love that didn't dissolve after the vows, the kind that didn’t follow the patterns she’d seen in her own life. Both her parents had ended up divorced, and no matter how much therapy or journaling or songwriting she'd done, that fear—of breaking, of being left—still haunted her in quiet moments.

Still, she believed they could be different. She wanted to believe that.

It was almost ironic—how the happiest she’d ever been was also paired with this jittery, consuming anxiety. For the past two days, Taylor had barely slept. Her thoughts kept looping, tangling in on themselves. Something was shifting inside her, quietly, insistently, and it made her uneasy. She hadn’t told Travis yet—couldn’t. Not until she was sure. Not until she found the words that would make it all feel real and safe.

They’d been married for ten months now. And most days, it really did feel like a fairytale. Travis made her laugh so easily, loved her so fully, that she sometimes forgot to be afraid. But lately… he was gone more. Physically present less. His season was ending—his last season. Retirement was looming, and Taylor knew what that meant to him. Legacy. Brotherhood. A final sprint.

She understood. God, she did. But understanding didn’t erase the sting of feeling forgotten.

That afternoon, Taylor had called him for the third time, pacing the living room barefoot, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline. Her voice mails went unreturned. Her texts unread. She told herself he was just busy. But the fear bloomed anyway, irrational and full-bodied.

By the time Travis walked in through the door, nearly two hours after he was supposed to be home, Taylor was no longer pacing. She was curled up on the couch, arms crossed, her stomach in knots.

He walked in like he always did—smiling, keys jangling in his palm, calling out casually: “Tay, I’m home!”

Taylor didn’t reply. She just looked at him.

He froze mid-step, sensing it instantly—the air charged, heavy. “Tay?” His voice softened. “Are you okay?”

She stared at him, her eyes cold and unreadable. “You tell me.”

He blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, standing up slowly, “that I’ve been calling you. Texting. Leaving you voice mails. And apparently, you were just too busy to reply back to your wife?”

Travis pulled his phone from his pocket, thumbed it on. Notifications flooded the screen. Missed calls. Messages. Her voice mails.

“Shit,” he muttered, guilt flickering across his face. “Baby, I’m so sorry. It was on silent after practice and—some of the guys showed up at the facility. We cracked a couple beers, talked... I totally lost track. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Taylor gave a sharp exhale, brushing past him.

He reached out, fingers catching her wrist gently. “Tay. Please, I’m sorry. Really.”

She yanked her arm away like his touch burned her. “I don’t want your ‘sorry.’”

He paused, tension coiling in his shoulders. “Come on, this isn’t fair. You’re overreacting Taylor.”

Her head snapped toward him. Her eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”

He faltered. “I—I just mean… I wasn’t gone that long, and it’s not like I was out doing something wrong. I just—”

“You called me Taylor,” she cut in, her voice low and trembling. “You never call me that.”

Travis blinked. “What? I—”

“Yeah,” she said with a bitter little laugh. “Classic. Woman’s emotional, must be overreacting, right?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “Don’t twist this.”

“I’m not twisting anything,” she shot back. “I was here, worrying. Wondering if you were okay. If something happened. And you couldn’t even take ten seconds to text me? You think that doesn’t matter?”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “It’s not like I ghosted you for days, Taylor. It was two hours. And it’s not the first time I’ve been late home.”

“But it’s not just that!” she exploded. “It’s not about being late! It’s about the fact that I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Her voice broke as she added, “You’re never really here anymore.”

That landed like a punch.

Travis’s expression changed. Defensive. Hardened. “Wow,” he muttered. “So now I’m the bad guy for finishing out my career? For doing the thing I’ve worked my whole damn life for?”

“That’s not what I said,” she whispered.

“It’s what you meant, though. Isn’t it?”

“No, Travis, what I meant is that I feel alone,” she snapped. “And I don’t know how to tell you that without you making me feel guilty for it!”

They stared at each other, both breathing hard. Both hurting.

Travis took a step closer, reaching for her again. “Tay—just tell me what’s going on. Please. You’ve been off all week. It’s not just tonight.”

She flinched away. “I can’t talk to you about it. Not if this is how you’re going to be.”

He recoiled, his jaw tightening. “So now I’m the problem. Got it.”

Taylor’s voice cracked. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m trying, Taylor!” he burst out. “I’ve been trying to juggle everything—my team, my body, this house, you. And you think I don’t feel like I’m failing at all of it?”

Her face fell. “So now I’m just another obligation?”

“That’s not what I—” he began, but stopped himself.

Too late.

She nodded slowly, eyes glassy now. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Tay—wait.”

“No,” she said, backing away toward the hallway. “I’m not going to stand here and fight to be heard by someone who only listens when it’s convenient.”

He didn’t follow. Just stood there, breathing hard, watching her turn her back.

“Yeah, walk away,” he muttered bitterly. “That’s easier than actually working through it, right?”

She froze.

When she turned back around, her face had gone blank—like she’d shut something off inside.

Then she walked away.

He didn’t chase her.

The door to their house closed with a slam. 

It sounded like something breaking.

Travis stood frozen in the middle of the living room, his chest rising and falling with short, uneven breaths. The silence felt louder now, echoing in the space she’d left behind. The door still rattled faintly in its frame from the force she’d slammed it with.

His fists clenched at his sides. Jaw tight. Shoulders tense like a coiled spring.

‘Goddamn it.’

He ran both hands down his face, his palms dragging slowly over the scruff along his jaw. He could feel the heat rising in his skin — part shame, part frustration. Taylor had been off lately. Quiet in a way that wasn’t peaceful. Hesitant in a way that wasn’t her. He knew it. He’d felt it. And still — he’d ignored that instinct, dismissed it with careless excuses.

‘Sometimes you just have to shut your damn mouth and listen.’

His thoughts rang in his head like an accusation.

He didn’t waste another second.

Travis spun on his heel and crossed the hardwood with heavy, fast steps. He wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the crisp January night. Cold air hit him instantly, sobering, slicing through the heat still coiled in his chest.

And there she was.

Sitting on the porch steps, knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her shoulders were hunched against the wind, her face tilted toward the dark sky. She wore one of his old hoodies — the soft, oversized one he used to wear post-practice. It swallowed her frame, made her look smaller than he ever let himself remember she could be.

Her hair was slightly tousled, strands catching in the breeze, and her eyes — though downcast — glinted in the porch light, red-rimmed from tears she hadn’t let him see.

He hesitated for a second, guilt anchoring his feet.

Then quietly, he stepped forward and lowered himself beside her, careful not to crowd her. The steps creaked under his weight. He didn't speak. Not yet.

She didn’t turn to him. Just kept her gaze fixed ahead, lips pressed in a thin, unreadable line.

But he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks, shimmering in the low light. That alone gutted him.

Slowly, gently, he reached for her hand — hesitant, unsure — and when her fingers didn’t pull away, he held it in both of his, thumb brushing across her knuckles in slow, soothing circles.

“Tay... I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or make you feel alone. I was careless. I get it. I do. Please believe me.”

His voice was soft, almost hoarse.

At first, she didn’t respond.

Then, after a long silence, a faint sigh escaped her lips — the sound of exhaustion, not anger — and she finally turned her head to look at him.

Her face was tearstained, lips trembling slightly, but her eyes met his with something raw and fragile.

His heart cracked open.

He lifted his other hand and placed it tenderly against her cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of her jaw. Her skin was cool to the touch.

“I swear I wasn’t ghosting you,” he said, voice lightening just enough to tease. “I was just temporarily possessed by a bunch of sweaty dudes and a six-pack of Coors Light.”

That earned him a reluctant eye roll. And then — finally — the tiniest curve of her lips.

She smiled.

It was small. Barely there. But it was everything.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and turned more fully toward her, their knees almost touching now on the porch steps.

“People always say falling in love is easy,” he murmured. “But staying in love is hard. And maybe it is. But not with you. You make it easy, Tay. You’re my everything.”

Her eyes glistened again — this time not with anger, but with something softer. Vulnerable. True.

“Please,” he said, his hand still on her cheek. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The air stilled between them.

Then, barely above a whisper, she said it:

“I’m pregnant.”

The words lingered in the air like a held breath. And for a second, he just blinked — as if the meaning had to travel a long way to reach him.

Then he exhaled sharply, with a laugh of relief. “Oh thank God. I thought it was something serious.”

But halfway through the grin beginning to form on his face — it hit him.

His body stilled. His eyes widened. “Wait — what?”

He blinked again, turning fully to face her. “You’re... pregnant?”

Taylor nodded, tears filling her eyes again, but this time they were different. Not afraid. Just full. She slid toward him, curling into his arms, her head resting against his chest like it was the only place she could breathe.

His arms wrapped around her instinctively, protectively, as if to shield her from the world.

“When did you find out?” he asked, voice low and reverent.

“Two days ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I... I was still figuring it out.”

He held her tighter, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Are you not happy about it?”

She didn’t answer right away. But her silence said enough. The fear, the overwhelm — it was all written on her face.

So he gently lifted her chin, just enough to meet her eyes again.

“Hey. Look at me.”

His tone softened even more, tender with every word.

“First of all, you’re gonna be an amazing mom. Like, top-tier. If our kid ends up even half as thoughtful, weirdly organized, and terrifyingly good at planning birthday surprises as you, we’re golden.”

A tear slid down her cheek. But her lips parted in a small laugh — a real one.

He smiled back.

“And yeah, I’m scared too. But that means we care. Means we know how big this is. But you’re not doing this alone, Tay. We’re a team — have been since day one.”

He reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than they needed to. That little gesture — grounding, familiar — always told her he was present. Really there.

“Yeah, our lives are a little nuts. But maybe that’s the point. We’ll teach them how to love big. How to chase dreams and come home to the people who matter. And if they ever resent us?” He smirked. “Well, they’ll still have your cheekbones and my dance moves. They’ll get over it.”

Taylor laughed through her tears now, the sound full of everything she’d been holding back. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, grounding herself in him.

“I love you so much, Trav.”

He kissed the crown of her head, lingering there.

Then pulled back just enough to grin, wide and boyish.

“We’re going to be parents!”

Taylor nodded with a soft chuckle, her heart full.

“Yeah. We are.”

He kissed her forehead again — slow, sure, and full of gratitude.

“Thank you for this.”

And in that moment — there on the porch, beneath a sky full of stars and possibilities — the future didn’t feel terrifying.

It felt like something they could shape together.

It felt like forever.

Chapter Text

Golden sunlight spilled through the windows of their home, casting warm streaks across the hardwood and bouncing off the champagne flutes already half-filled on the dining table. The house smelled like something sweet and familiar — cinnamon and rosemary and candle wax. There was music playing low in the background, something acoustic and soft. It was the kind of evening that shimmered with intention — like the universe itself had decided to pause for them.

Taylor had been up since early morning, fluttering between arranging flowers and adjusting the silverware. Her energy wasn’t frantic — it was focused. Purposeful. She’d picked out the tulips herself at the market, even though Travis had tried to insist she “rest” and let him handle it. He’d still shown up with an extra bouquet anyway, a little lopsided but full of heart.

Now she moved through the house with that kind of glow you couldn’t fake — not the one photographers chased, but the one that came from holding a beautiful secret close to your chest.

Twelve weeks.
They’d kept it quiet, tucked between whispered late-night conversations and cautiously hopeful doctor’s visits. After nausea, nerves, and tiptoeing through the first trimester, today — their first wedding anniversary — finally felt like the right time. The day they’d tell the people they loved most.

Jason and Kylie arrived first with the girls, the front door swinging open with the familiar chaos of toddlers and laughter. Kylie swept in holding a tray of deviled eggs while Jason helped the girls out of their coats, both of them moving with the messy rhythm of parenthood.
Then came Donna and Ed, bearing a casserole and a chocolate pie that had somehow survived the car ride intact. Andrea and Scott walked in next — Andrea holding a hostess gift and Scott already scanning the room for the bar cart.

.

Not far behind them came Austin and his girlfriend, both armed with a bottle of wine and a mischievous grin.

“What’s up, homeowners?” Austin called out, shrugging off his coat. “Still legally married after a whole year? That’s impressive for showbiz.”

Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother dear.”

He kissed her cheek and winked at Travis. “You know I love you both. Mostly her. But you’re growing on me.”

Travis laughed. “I’ll take it.”

The house filled with warmth — in scent, in sound, in soul. They ate and talked and played a chaotic round of charades, where Jason accused Travis of cheating, and Travis insisted he just had superior acting skills. Taylor laughed so hard she had to sit down, one hand instinctively over her stomach.

And Travis noticed — again.

He had been hovering all evening.
Not in a loud or clumsy way. But the kind of hovering women notice. Quiet, attentive, always within arm’s reach. Refilling her water before she could ask. Picking up her fork when it slipped off the plate. Glancing at her from across the room every few minutes, like his body was keeping track of hers even while he talked to someone else.
The women in the room noticed too.
Andrea watched her daughter with narrowed eyes and the faintest of smiles. Donna tilted her head once when Taylor brushed a hand over her midsection for the fifth time in an hour. Kylie just sat back on the couch, swirling her wine slowly and smirking to herself.
The men, meanwhile, were too busy comparing barbecue techniques.

As the evening slipped into candlelight and quiet music, everyone gathered around the table for dessert. A simple white cake sat in the center — small, elegant, topped with golden script that read: One year down, forever to go.

After the first slice was cut, Taylor glanced at Travis.

It was time.

Travis stood, gently tugging her up beside him, their hands laced beneath the tablecloth.
He cleared his throat and gave everyone a crooked smile. “Okay — we’ve got a little announcement to make.” He glanced down at her with that grin that still made her knees soft. “Well… a big little one.”
Taylor nodded, breath caught in her throat.
“We’re having a baby.”

There was a moment of silence.
Then chaos.

Jason whooped so loudly that one of the kids dropped a spoon. He smacked Travis’s back with enough force to be considered assault.
Ed clapped like they’d just won a Super Bowl.

Scott leaned forward, blinking in surprise, before turning to Andrea with raised eyebrows.
And Austin? He muttered, “Knew it,” around a bite of pie.

But the women?

They didn’t react with shock — not really.
Instead, they shared a look. That look. The one passed through generations.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Andrea’s face as she stood up and walked toward Taylor.

“You guys knew, didn’t you?” Taylor asked, narrowing her eyes as laughter bubbled out of her.

Andrea chuckled, wrapping her arms around her daughter. “Honey, when you’ve had kids… you just know. There’s a shift. A glow. A hand that lingers on the stomach a second too long. We’ve been watching.”

Donna joined them next, pulling Taylor into a gentle, motherly hug, resting her hand lightly on Taylor’s back. “I am so happy for you,” she whispered. “You’re going to be the most beautiful mother.”

Taylor’s eyes glistened as she held on to both women — the two mothers who had raised them, now standing together, ready to welcome another life into the family.

Kylie, meanwhile, smirked over her wine glass. “Also… Travis hasn’t exactly been subtle.” She turned toward her brother. “The way he’s been hovering? Watching you like you’re about to float off into the sky? Dude, it was obvious.”

Taylor turned with mock outrage. “Travis!”

Travis held up his hands defensively, eyes wide. “What?! I was just… I mean, I wasn’t hovering, I was just... making sure you didn’t pass out or something. You were nauseous yesterday!”

“You brought me crackers at 3am,” Taylor deadpanned.

“A loving gesture,” Travis defended, earning another round of laughter.

Kylie shook her head, grinning. “Anyway, the point is — congratulations, you two. This baby hit the jackpot.”

Everyone clinked glasses — water, wine, juice — it didn’t matter. The toast was all the same.

To love.

To family.

To new beginnings.

Later, after everyone had gone home and the house had fallen into a comfortable silence, Taylor and Travis sat curled on the couch, the cake half-eaten between them.

Travis rested his hand over her still-flat stomach and said, almost in awe, “There’s a whole person in there.”

Taylor turned toward him, a soft smile on her face. “Yeah. And they already have your stubbornness.”

He grinned. “God help us.”

She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, her voice quiet. “Can you believe it’s only been a year?”

Travis kissed her hair. “Feels like a lifetime. But in the best way.”

And for a while, they just sat like that. Two hearts, one growing stronger with each passing second.

Travis was nervous. Nervous in the way a man might be before stepping onto a field for the biggest game of his life — only this time, the stakes weren’t touchdowns. This was family. This was his family.

And he wasn’t sure if he remembered how to be theirs.

He sat on the edge of the couch, hands fidgeting, gaze bouncing between the front door and the ticking clock above it. Jason had tried to reassure him earlier — said he’d know what to do when the time came. But Travis wasn’t so sure.

What if he didn’t feel anything?

What if he looked into the eyes of the little girl he’s been told is his daughter and felt… nothing?

What if the memories never came back?

What if he didn’t love Taylor anymore — or worse, what if he did and she could tell he wasn’t the same?

He pressed a hand to his chest, right where it ached. Not physically. Emotionally . The pressure had been there since the moment he woke up in that hospital bed — like his heart was waiting for something to click into place.

The front door opened with a soft click. Then—

“UNCLE TRAVVY!”

A chorus of tiny voices echoed through the hallway before three bodies launched themselves into the room.

Wyatt was first, arms wide open. Ellie and Bennett weren’t far behind. They collided into him like a tidal wave of joy and familiarity.

Travis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and wrapped his arms around them tightly, instinctively.

He didn’t need a memory to know how much these girls meant to him, “Hey, my little ladies,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I missed you — even if my brain’s still catching up.”

They giggled, squeezing tighter.

Moments later, Kylie walked in holding a baby girl — wide-eyed, curious, clutching a stuffed rabbit by the ear, “Trav, this is Finnley,” she said softly, her voice full of that older-sister warmth.

Kylie turned to the baby in her arms. “Finn, baby, look. It’s Uncle Trav.”

Finn tilted her head, blinking slowly before offering a shy wave.

Travis smiled, and even if he didn’t remember her, something about that tiny hand made his heart clench. Maybe it was how familiar the weight of her gaze felt. Maybe it was the way she smiled — like she'd known him her whole life.

And then…

Taylor entered the room.

She stepped carefully through the doorway, her casted arm cradling Thea with practiced grace. The sling was still part of her daily life — a detail everyone had grown used to — but tonight, it felt more like armor than inconvenience. She clutched their daughter protectively, like she was bracing for whatever this moment might bring.

The air shifted.

Travis’s world narrowed.

Everything — the laughter, the soft music playing from the kitchen, the warmth of Jason’s house — it all faded away.

It was just her .

Taylor looked nervous, trying to keep her smile steady, but there was a tremble at the corners of her mouth. Her arms tightened slightly around the child — their daughter.

The little girl had blonde curls bouncing around her face and impossibly familiar eyes.

Eyes that mirrored Taylor’s.

She spotted him instantly, and her whole body lit up, “Da da!” she squealed, squirming in Taylor’s arms. “Da da!”

Her tiny arms reached forward, fingers wiggling as she fought to free herself, calling louder now, desperate to reach him. “DA DA!”

Travis’s breath caught in his throat. Something inside him cracked — not painfully, but open .

And then it came rushing back — not as a memory exactly, but as a feeling.

The feeling of holding her for the first time.

The way she had gripped his finger with her whole hand.

The sound of her laughter bouncing down the hallway.

The weight of her asleep on his chest, her breath rising and falling in rhythm with his own.

Love. So much love.

A tear escaped down his cheek before he even realized it.

Taylor stepped closer, her voice soft, “This is Thea.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

He just opened his arms.

Thea launched forward with a squeal as Taylor gently passed her over.

Travis held her against his chest and buried his face in her hair.

Her small arms wrapped around his neck, patting his back in the way toddlers do — without precision, but full of purpose, “Da da,” she whispered again, this time like it was a secret only they shared.

And just like that… the ache in his chest stopped feeling empty.

Because his heart remembered .

His body remembered the rhythm of fatherhood.

His arms knew how to hold her.

His heart knew how to love her.

And suddenly, he wasn’t just a man recovering from a coma.

He was a father.

He was hers.

And for the first time since waking up, Travis felt whole — not because his mind had caught up, but because his heart never really left.

He looked up at Taylor, eyes wet, voice breaking, “She remembers me.”

Taylor smiled through her own tears, her voice barely above a whisper, “Of course she does. You’re her whole world.”

He kissed Thea’s forehead, holding her tighter. “She’s mine too.”

Taylor lowered herself slowly beside them, her body still tender, her arm aching faintly beneath the cast. She used her good hand to brush a golden curl from Thea’s forehead, then let her fingers trail up to Travis’s shoulder — grounding herself in the two things that mattered most.

He didn’t pull away.

He just looked at her. Long and hard. Like she was starting to become real to him again.

And for the first time in weeks, Taylor let herself hope — really hope — that maybe, just maybe…

The pieces were beginning to come back.

The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes after something seismic — after everything has changed. The lights were dimmed low, a soft yellow glow casting gentle shadows against the pale blue walls. The monitors beeped softly in the background.

Taylor was exhausted — body trembling, heart racing, drenched in the kind of bone-deep fatigue that came from hours of labor — but none of that mattered.

Because at this moment, as she looked down at the tiny bundle resting against her chest, all she could feel was love.

A love so immediate, so overwhelming, so breathtaking that it didn’t even feel human. It felt eternal. Sacred. Like the kind of love you hear about in lullabies and fairytales and old stories whispered across generations.

She was holding her daughter.

Their daughter.

All eight pounds and four ounces of her — wrapped in a soft white blanket with a pink-and-blue striped cap clumsily placed on her head.

Taylor traced the tiny curve of her cheek with her fingertip, marveling at the impossible softness of her skin. She’d thought she understood love before — through music, through heartbreak, through healing. But this was different.

This was holding her heart outside of her body.

Her breath caught as the baby slowly blinked open her eyes — electric blue. Just like her own. Just like her mother’s.

It felt like a full circle had completed.

Like something eternal had passed through generations and landed gently in her arms.

She couldn’t stop the tears. They came in soft waves, rolling silently down her cheeks, washing away nine months of discomfort, nausea, sleepless nights, and swollen ankles.

None of it mattered now. None of it ever would.

Taylor bent down and pressed her lips gently to her daughter’s forehead, breathing her in — the powdery, new-baby scent already imprinted on her soul, “Hi, sweet pea,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”

Just then, she felt Travis’s hand brush her shoulder, and she looked up. His eyes were glassy, lips parted, completely still.

He hadn’t spoken in minutes.

He couldn’t.

Travis had never seen anything like it. This tiny, perfect human who looked like everything that was good in the world — who had half his DNA, and yet somehow already more power over him than anything ever had.

His chest tightened as Taylor looked up at him, eyes full of tears and awe, and gently handed him their daughter.

His arms, which had lifted trophies and caught passes under stadium lights, now trembled as they cradled the most fragile thing he’d ever held.

A choked breath escaped his throat as he watched the newborn shift and twitch in his arms, her little mouth puckering before settling again, “Oh my God,” he whispered, voice cracking. “She’s real. She’s ours.”

He let out a shaky laugh through the tears streaming down his face, “She’s so little,” he said, staring down at her like nothing else existed in the world. “She’s perfect.”

Taylor rested her head back on the pillow, watching them — her husband and her daughter — and feeling as if her heart couldn’t possibly contain this much love.

Travis held out one thick finger, and the baby, instinctively, wrapped her whole hand around it.

And that’s when he lost it, “Oh… oh, she’s strong,” he whispered, tears falling freely now. “She’s already strong.”

Taylor smiled through her own tears. “Like her dad.”

He shook his head. “No, like her mom.”

They stayed like that for a long time — just being. No cameras. No noise. Just new life and the two people who already loved her more than anything.

Eventually, once they’d had their time, the family gathered in the room. Quietly. Gently. Donna, Ed, Andrea, Scott, Jason, Kylie. All of them with soft smiles and red eyes, as if they understood this wasn’t just a celebration.

It was a reverence, “So…” Donna said gently, “Do we get to know her name?”

Travis and Taylor shared a glance. Their hands intertwined, still a little shaky, still riding the wave of overwhelming love.

Travis stepped forward slightly, cradling the baby in one arm, his voice proud and trembling as he spoke,“Everyone… meet Theodora Marjorie Kelce.”

Silence fell — and then it broke with a sharp breath from Andrea.

She blinked rapidly, hand rising to her mouth as tears pooled in her eyes,“Marjorie,” she whispered. “Oh, Taylor…”

Taylor spoke. “I wanted to honor her. And you. She was your strength, Mom. And now… she’s ours.”

Andrea pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, sobbing gently against her shoulder,“Your grandma would’ve adored her,” she murmured. “And she would’ve been so proud of you, baby.”

Taylor nodded, emotion too thick to speak.

Kylie stepped forward next, gently brushing Thea’s little cheek with her knuckle. “She’s gonna be spoiled beyond reason. I hope you know that.”

“We’re counting on it,” Travis sniffled, trying to clear his throat.

Jason looked at his brother and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Uncle Trav just became Dad Trav. Man… you did it.”

“We did it,” Travis said, looking back at Taylor.

And they stood there — surrounded by love, by history, by the very people who had raised them — while holding the child who would carry their story forward.

Thea yawned and settled deeper into her father’s chest.

A new chapter had begun.

The house had quieted, the kind of stillness that only came when everyone had gone to bed and the weight of the day had finally settled. It was almost midnight now — Jason’s house bathed in soft shadows, the hallway dim except for the golden glow spilling from the room at the end.

And Travis couldn’t sleep.

He’d spent the whole evening in a daze — replaying the moment he held Thea in his arms like it was on loop. The way her arms wrapped around his neck. The way she said “Da da” like it was the only word in the world that mattered. The way something inside him — something buried deep and sacred — had cracked open and flooded him with everything.

It hadn’t been a slow remembering.

It was a tidal wave.

The moment her tiny hand curled around his finger, it all rushed back — the first time he held her in that hospital room, the sleepless nights pacing with her at 2 a.m., the way she would settle only when he hummed Back to December because, as Taylor liked to joke, “She’s got good taste, clearly.”

He remembered everything .

The nursery they painted in hues of gold and sage.
The way Taylor would rest her hand on her stomach at night before rolling into him, whispering her hopes for the baby.
The lullabies sung in the rocking chair.
The first time Thea giggled — belly deep and uninhibited — and Taylor cried just from hearing it.

And now… he’d forgotten it all.

Until she reached for him.

How could he have forgotten them ?

How could he have forgotten her ?

His wife. His girl. The one who had held everything together while he was lost in the dark.

His chest ached, but it wasn’t the hollow kind anymore. It was full — heavy with memory, love, grief, and gratitude all at once. He needed to see her. Now.

The door was slightly ajar, the warm light inside spilling into the hallway like an invitation.

She was standing at the vanity in her pajamas, her cast visible now in the soft lamplight. The pale blue sling rested against her ribcage, the fabric slightly rumpled, worn in a way that told a story without a single word. She’d grown used to adjusting, to doing things with one hand — but tonight, the weight of it pressed heavier than usual

Her eyes were tired. Haunted. The kind of tired that didn’t come from lack of sleep, but from carrying too much, too quietly.

She caught his reflection in the mirror before she heard his footsteps.

Her heart jumped.
Her breath caught.
And when she turned, he was standing there.

Eyes red. Shoulders tense. Lips trembling.

But there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Something deeper. Something known .

Recognition.

Love.

Home.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just walked straight to her, as if drawn by something unspoken, something ancient, and gathered her into his arms like he was anchoring himself to reality.

She gasped softly against his chest, her good arm curling around him instantly, while the other remained awkwardly cradled between them in its cast. He noticed — and gently shifted his own arms to accommodate it, like he’d done a hundred times before, without making her feel fragile. Her knees nearly buckled from the relief of it,“I’m sorry,” Travis whispered hoarsely. His voice broke. “I’m so sorry I forgot.”

Tears pooled in her eyes again, the hundredth time since all this began. But this time they were different. Softer. Less grief, more release, “It’s okay, Trav,” she murmured. “It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. None of this was.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his big hands, thumbs brushing away her tears, “I remember everything,” he whispered.

Her lips parted. Her eyes widened. And for a moment, she didn’t dare believe it, “I remember our wedding. The lake. The dance. That dumb speech I wrote the night before because you said we couldn’t wing it.”
“I remember the first time I felt Thea kick. I cried in the middle of the Target aisle.”
“I remember painting the nursery — that weird green we both hated but pretended to love for a week.”
“I remember the first time she said my name. The way you looked at me like you were falling in love all over again.”

Taylor covered her mouth, choking back a sob. He kept going, “I remember our fights. Our late-night sushi runs. You sitting on the kitchen floor crying because Thea wouldn’t sleep and you thought you were a bad mom — and how I told you you were the best thing that ever happened to her.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, “You are. You always have been.”

Now they were both crying.

Taylor nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks as she reached up and clutched his wrists, “You’re back,” she whispered. “You’re really back.”

“I never left,” he whispered back. “I just forgot how to find my way to you.”

She let out a breath that sounded like relief and heartbreak wrapped into one. She pulled him closer again, burying herself in the crook of his neck, “I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on,” she confessed, voice cracking. “I was trying. I really was.”

“You didn’t have to try, Tay,” he said, holding her tighter. “You never had to do this alone. I’m here now. I’m with you. Always.”

They stood like that for what felt like a lifetime, swaying slightly — no music, just the rhythm of their breathing.

Finally, he kissed her temple, then pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, “I promised you once,” he whispered, “back on New Year’s Eve — that you’d never lose me.”

“I promised back,” she said softly.

He smiled. “Good. Then we’re still keeping our promises.”

They stared at each other for a long moment — not searching, not questioning. Just seeing.

And then, with a teary laugh, Travis said, “You know… we still haven’t had the conversation about number two. Or the dog.”

Taylor burst out laughing — the sound breaking through the heaviness like sunshine through clouds. She leaned her forehead against his chest, laughing and crying all at once.

“God, you remember everything, ” she said, voice muffled against him.

“Every last second,” he whispered into her hair. “And I’d live it all again just to find you.”

They stayed there in the quiet, tangled together like roots finding each other beneath the soil.

The kind of love that survives storms. That survives silence. That even survives forgetting.

Because it never really left.

It was always there — steady, unshaken, waiting.

Just like she had been.

Chapter Text

They didn’t know how long they had been standing there, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Taylor had stopped counting the minutes, maybe even the hours. Her tears had long since soaked into Travis’s shoulder, her cheeks raw from the steady, silent stream of them. But she didn’t care. Her face was pressed into the familiar curve of his neck, her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt as if sheer willpower could anchor him here, could keep him from slipping away again.

All that mattered was that he was here—real, solid, breathing, remembering. And her.

For so long she had imagined this moment: the impossible hope of his eyes opening, of his voice calling her name, of the nightmare ending. But now that it was real—tangible and warm under her hands—it felt almost too fragile. Like if she loosened her grip, it might shatter into a thousand pieces.

When his arms shifted slightly, loosening just a fraction as though giving her space to breathe, a sharp, irrational terror sliced through her chest like a blade. If I let go, it might vanish. If I let go, it might all turn to dust.

But Travis didn’t pull away. His hands, broad and steady, smoothed gentle circles over her back, and his voice, thick with the rough edges of sleep and emotion, whispered into her hair, “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

Her knees gave way under the weight of relief and exhaustion, but he caught her easily, tightening his hold, murmuring her name like a prayer.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—longer than forever—she slept.

Not the fitful doze of hospital chairs, where the weight of dread pressed into every breath. Not the shallow, fractured half-sleep punctuated by machines beeping and nurses bustling.

No. This was sleep. Real, deep, surrendering sleep.

Curled in the circle of his arms, her head cradled beneath his chin, breathing in the grounding, familiar scent of him—soap, skin, Travis—Taylor let herself sink into the quiet peace of his presence. She felt the beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a steady rhythm whispering: You’re safe. You’re home.

She didn’t know how long she slept, only that the light through the window shifted, golden and gentle, warming her skin. The soft sounds of life beyond the room—the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, muffled laughter from downstairs, the distant trill of Thea’s giggles—wove themselves into her dreams like threads of gold.

It was the soft knocking that finally pulled her back.

Tap, tap, tap.

Her heart leapt in panic. For a moment, she froze. Was he gone? Had it been a dream?

But then she felt him. Solid behind her. His arm draped heavy and warm around her waist, his breath steady and slow against the nape of her neck. His hand flexed faintly, almost protectively, when she stirred.

A trembling breath escaped her lips, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, as if holding in a sob of pure relief.

The knock came again, a little more insistent. She forced herself to gently ease out of Travis’s embrace, her cast aching as she shifted, careful not to wake him. He murmured faintly, his brows twitching, but his body remained relaxed, his mind still adrift in sleep.

Taylor padded softly to the door, adjusting the sling around her arm as she went, her steps slow, her heart still unsteady. When she opened it, she found Kylie standing there, her expression tight with concern, her brows drawn low.

“I couldn’t find Travis,” Kylie whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath, as her eyes darted past Taylor into the room. “His bed wasn’t slept in, and… I checked the house, but—”

Taylor’s lips trembled. She stepped aside, pulling the door open wider to let Kylie see for herself.

Travis lay sprawled across the bed, still in his clothes from the night before, one hand curled near where Taylor had been, his face soft with sleep.

Kylie’s shoulders sagged as realization dawned. Her lips parted, and a soft, almost-laugh tumbled out—a mix of relief and dawning understanding. “Oh,” she murmured.

Then her gaze flicked to Taylor’s face, her eyes widening slightly as if piecing it together. The tears still clinging to Taylor’s lashes. The faint, tremulous curve of her lips. The rawness in her eyes.

Kylie’s own lips trembled, her voice breaking softly. “Tay…?”

Taylor nodded, her throat thick, her voice a fragile whisper. “He remembers everything.”

The words cracked something open between them, and Kylie stepped forward, her arms wrapping around Taylor in a fierce, protective hug. Taylor clung to her sister-in-law, her cast pressing awkwardly into Kylie’s back, her head buried in her shoulder as fresh tears spilled over.

“I’m so glad,” Kylie whispered, her voice breaking on the words. “So glad, Tay. You deserve this. He’s back.”

Taylor nodded again, her body shaking, her voice a choked whisper against Kylie’s shoulder. “I was so scared… I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on. But he’s here. He’s really here.”

Kylie pulled back just enough to look at her, her own eyes shining with tears. “You’re the strongest person I know,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to do it all on your own anymore. He’s here. We’re here.”

And for the first time in weeks, Taylor let herself believe it.

They stayed like that for a long moment—two women bound not by blood but by the kind of love that chooses family. By shared grief, shared hope, shared fierce protectiveness for the people they loved.

Taylor felt her heart finally steady, the tremors of fear quieting. And when she glanced back toward the bed and saw Travis shift slightly, his hand stretching out across the sheets as if reaching for her even in sleep.

Though Travis was back— not just awake, but present —Taylor couldn’t shake the heaviness that settled over her whenever they left the house.

She tried. God, she tried.

They resumed some version of normalcy. Sunday dinners with family where laughter echoed through the kitchen, warm and familiar, like muscle memory. Quiet mornings with Thea toddling between them on the living room rug, her chubby hands gripping building blocks while Travis made ridiculous faces to make her giggle. Even slow, careful walks around the neighborhood, where they strolled hand in hand and Travis kept a watchful eye on Thea as she wobbled alongside them.

But every time Taylor glanced at the street—the shadows under parked cars, the sharp edges of alleyways, the glint of something reflective—her chest tightened. Her breath caught in her throat like a knot.

It wasn’t just fear. It was remembering .

That moment lived inside her now, stitched into her bones. The flash of the gun. The shattering sound. Travis collapsing to the ground, blood blooming red against his shirt. The scream that had torn itself from her throat without her even realizing it. The way the world had frozen around her as her own blood pulsed in her ears, louder than sirens.

Even now, weeks later, the memory clawed at her. Her hands trembled when she locked the front door at night. She found herself double-checking Thea’s car seat buckle, triple-checking the back door before bed. When a stranger walked too close, her heart jumped into her throat, a thin sheen of cold sweat prickling her skin.

And Travis noticed. He always noticed.

But he never said a word.

And even though her cast had finally been removed—replaced by physical therapy sessions and cautious exercises—the ache lingered. Her wrist was stiff, her grip weak, but her therapist had promised she’d regain strength with time. Travis would watch her carefully during her stretches, offering quiet encouragement, his hand ghosting over her back like a reminder: I’m here. I see you.

When they left the house, he’d subtly shift to her left side, the one where her hand still trembled. He’d slow his pace, adjusting to hers, his larger hand brushing hers, steady and warm. At home, he’d pick up Thea with practiced ease, his movements casual but protective, as though shielding their daughter with his very presence.

At night, when Taylor curled into him, her wrist occasionally aching from overuse, he’d massage gentle circles into her palm, his touch so light it made her heart ache. “I’ve got you,” he’d whisper into her hair. “I’ll always have you.”

Still, the weight pressed down on her.

One night, maybe two months after Travis remembered everything, they lay awake long after Thea had fallen asleep. The house was still, the quiet only broken by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the soft shuffle of Thea rolling over in her crib.

Taylor’s head rested on Travis’s chest, her good hand tracing idle circles over the warm skin of his ribs. The repetitive motion calmed her, even as her thoughts tangled in on themselves. Finally, her voice broke the silence, raw and uncertain. “Do you think I’m broken?” she whispered.

His fingers, threading gently through her hair, stilled for a moment. Then he let out a soft breath and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Not even a little,” he murmured.

“I feel it, though,” she said, her voice cracking, her throat tightening around the words. “Every time we step outside, I keep thinking—what if it happens again? What if I lose you? What if I can’t stop it?”

Travis’s arms tightened around her. His heart beat a little faster beneath her cheek. “Then I’ll be ready,” he said softly. “I’ll protect you both. You won’t lose me.”

She gave a small, shaky laugh, but it held no humor. “You can’t promise that,” she whispered.

“Maybe not,” he admitted quietly, his voice rough with honesty. “But I can promise I’ll fight. I’ll fight every day to stay with you. To make you feel safe again. To make sure you never have to feel that fear alone.”

Her tears spilled over, hot and silent against his skin. She clenched her eyes shut, her hand fisting lightly in the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know if I’ll ever not be scared,” she confessed, her voice breaking apart. “It’s like… it’s in me now. Like it’s changed me.”

“That’s okay,” Travis whispered. His own voice was thick with emotion. “I’ll be scared with you. As long as we’re scared together.”

They lay there for a long time, breathing in sync, sharing silence and space and unspoken fears.

They didn’t rush things.

Taylor let herself take each day as it came—learning to trust the rhythm of normalcy again. The tiny moments stacked up like fragile bricks, rebuilding a life. There were little things that made her laugh despite herself: Thea’s delighted squeal when Travis twirled her around the kitchen. The smell of coffee brewing in the morning as he kissed her forehead. Travis’s terrible dancing in the living room, arms flailing as Thea shrieked with laughter.

And there were quiet moments too—the ones that softened the edges of her fears. When Travis reached for her hand in the middle of the night, his fingers finding hers instinctively. When he helped her dry her hair one-handed after a shower, his touch gentle and unhurried. When he laced their fingers together on the couch, no words needed.

They talked about everything. About her guilt. About the phantom ache in her arm where the bullet had grazed her. About his own guilt—how he’d blamed himself for being the reason she’d been hurt in the first place.

One night, after Thea had fallen asleep and the house had gone still, Taylor curled into him on the couch, her head nestled against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The cast on her arm still itched, the dull ache lingering beneath the surface, but she didn’t care. Not here. Not with him.

“Do you ever think we’ll be… normal again?” she whispered into the quiet.

Travis pressed a kiss to her hair, his lips brushing against the soft strands. “What’s normal?” he murmured.

She let out a soft, shaky laugh. “Good point,” she admitted, her voice breaking on the words.

“I think,” he said quietly, his voice reverent, “that this—us, here, now—this is enough. Even if we’re both a little broken. Even if we’re scared. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She nodded, her throat thick with emotion, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t bother to wipe away. “I just want to feel safe again,” she whispered, her voice so small it barely reached him.

“You are,” Travis said, his voice a quiet vow, steady and certain. “You always will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

And for the first time since the shooting, since the hospital, since the long days of waiting and fearing and grieving, Taylor let herself believe him.

That night, she fell asleep in his arms, her body pressed close to his, the weight of fear easing just a little. Not gone. Not yet. But lighter. Manageable.

The next morning, sunlight spilled through their bedroom window, casting soft gold across the sheets. Thea’s babbling voice carried from her crib down the hall, bright and lilting.

Taylor stirred first, her body heavy with sleep but warm against Travis’s. She shifted slightly, feeling the familiar ache in her wrist—not sharp, but the lingering stiffness of recovery. She flexed her fingers gently, working through the discomfort.

Beside her, Travis was already awake, his head propped on one hand, watching her with a soft, quiet smile that sent something achingly tender through her chest.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.

She blinked, surprised, a slow smile unfurling on her lips. “Is it morning already?” she whispered.

He nodded, brushing her hair back from her face. “It’s our morning,” he said. “Our day.”

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t look away. “I’m sorry I forgot.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t forget,” he said softly. “You’ve been surviving. And you’re still here. That’s all I care about.”

She let out a quiet breath, leaning into his touch as his fingers traced the curve of her cheek.

They lay like that for a while, the sounds of Thea babbling in the background, the light shifting brighter around them. Taylor’s heart felt tender, cracked open but beating stronger than it had in weeks.

Finally, she sat up carefully, testing the stiffness in her wrist. Travis was immediately there, sliding closer to offer his hand without a word. She smiled, grateful and a little shy, as he helped her steady herself.

“We should go get her,” she murmured, glancing toward the nursery.

“Yeah,” he said. “But first—” He caught her wrist gently, turning her toward him, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “I love you,” he said simply, his voice breaking a little. “I’m so damn proud of you, Tay. For everything. For fighting. For staying. For being her mom. For being mine.”

Her throat constricted, her vision blurring with tears. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, then her lips, slow and sure.

As they stood, ready to face the day, Taylor felt something inside her ease. The fear wasn’t gone. The ache in her wrist still pulsed beneath the skin. But with Travis beside her, with Thea’s laughter filling the air, with the golden morning light wrapping around them, she felt—maybe for the first time in months—hope.

A fragile, tentative hope, yes. But hope nonetheless.

The air in the nursery was soft and warm, bathed in the early light pouring through the curtains. Thea stood in her crib, gripping the wooden slats with chubby fists, her face breaking into a wide, toothy grin the moment she spotted them.

“Da-da!” she squealed, her voice ringing bright as a bell, her curls bouncing with every movement.

Travis laughed softly, stepping forward, and scooped her into his arms. Taylor followed, her wrist flexing carefully, a reminder of how far she’d come. As she watched Travis toss Thea lightly in the air, catching her effortlessly, Taylor felt a tightness in her chest—not fear this time, but the sting of gratitude.

She stood for a moment, just watching them. Thea’s giggles filled the room, Travis’s voice low and playful as he spun her gently, and for the first time in months, Taylor let herself believe that they were really here . That this wasn’t a borrowed moment, that it wasn’t fragile.

When Thea’s laughter slowed, Travis turned to Taylor, cradling their daughter between them. “You want to come with us for breakfast, baby?” he asked, grinning at their little girl.

Taylor nodded, brushing her fingers through Thea’s soft curls. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Let’s go.”

They moved through the house in an easy rhythm, Thea balanced on Travis’s hip, Taylor’s hand resting lightly on the small of his back. She still noticed every detail—her own cautious step, the occasional twinge in her wrist, but also the warmth of Travis’s presence, his patience, the way he instinctively slowed to match her pace.

In the kitchen, he settled Thea into her high chair with practiced ease and started preparing breakfast. Taylor leaned against the counter, her arms crossed lightly over her chest, watching him move through the space.

“You’re getting better at this,” she teased gently.

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “At making toast and scrambled eggs?”

“At… everything,” she said softly, her voice catching slightly.

He crossed the room in two strides, wrapping an arm around her waist, mindful of her wrist. “You’re the one getting stronger every day,” he murmured. “I see it, Tay. I see you trying, even when you don’t think I do.”

She pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him—coffee and warmth and home. “I just don’t want to be afraid all the time,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, Thea’s babbling and the soft sizzle of the pan filling the air.

After breakfast, while Thea played with her blocks on the living room floor, Taylor found herself quietly scrolling through her phone. She hesitated for a moment before tapping into her messages and pulling up her therapist’s number.

It was a simple message—just a confirmation for her next session—but it felt like a step.

She’d started therapy again a couple of weeks after Travis had come home, once she could sit still long enough to face her thoughts. The sessions had been quiet at first, heavy with silence and words she couldn’t quite speak aloud. But slowly, she found herself opening up—about the fear that clung to her, about the guilt that had haunted her since that night, about how she sometimes felt more like a shell than herself.

And her therapist had listened. Had reminded her, gently and steadily, that healing wasn’t linear. That some days would feel like progress, and others like setbacks. That trauma wasn’t a weakness.

Taylor’s physical therapist had told her much the same about her wrist—that it would take time, that she had to be patient with herself. Some mornings she’d wake to find her hand too stiff to grip her toothbrush, but other days she’d lift Thea into her arms without a second thought.

She was learning to recognize those small victories.

It was on one of those good mornings, when she managed to make her own coffee without Travis insisting on doing it for her, that she heard the tiny voice piping up from the living room.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Thea came barreling around the corner, her curls bouncing, a piece of paper clutched in her small fist. “Uncle Pat has a doggy! A big, funny doggy! We need one too!”

Taylor froze, a sinking feeling settling into her stomach. She shot a look over her shoulder at Travis, who was standing at the sink, very pointedly failing to hide his smirk.

“I told you,” she said, her voice pitched low and warning. “I told you we shouldn’t have let her go over there without supervision.”

Travis grinned shamelessly. “What, and deny her the chance to fall in love with Sterling’s fluffy nightmare?”

“She was supposed to be playing with the kids, not coming home with an agenda!” Taylor groaned, as Thea tugged insistently at her sleeve.

“But Mommy ,” Thea whined, her bottom lip trembling in the way she knew got results. “They have a big doggy! And he gives kisses and plays catch! I need a doggy too!”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Pat,” Taylor muttered, then raised her voice for Travis’s benefit. “I swear, Travis, I’m gonna kill Pat for this.”

Travis sauntered over, drying his hands on a dish towel, the picture of innocent mischief. “But babe,” he said with mock sweetness, “you said you’d settle for two kids and a dog, remember? Thea’s lobbying hard for the second part of the deal.”

Taylor shot him a withering glare, but he was undeterred. “Come on, it’ll be good for her. And for us. I mean, you’ve always said you wanted a dog eventually…”

“ Eventually ,” Taylor emphasized. “Not right now, when I’m barely managing my own recovery and—”

“Mommy,” Thea interrupted, tapping her on the leg with determined little fingers. “I promise I’ll help take care of him. I’ll give him food and hugs and play with him every day. Uncle Pat said dogs make you happy. Are you sad, Mommy?”

Taylor’s heart twisted, her irritation dissolving like sugar in hot water. She knelt down carefully, mindful of her wrist, and gathered Thea into her arms. “No, sweetie,” she murmured. “I’m not sad. I’m just… tired. And I want to make sure we’re ready if we get a dog, okay?”

Thea nodded solemnly, her big blue eyes staring up at her with a depth that always caught Taylor off guard. “Okay,” she said. “But can we at least look at some doggies?”

Taylor glanced between her husband and her daughter, her resolve softening. She rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. “Fine. We can go look . But we are not getting a dog today.”

Travis grinned, fist-bumping Thea who squealed and ran to put on her shoes.

A few days later, the family piled into the car and drove to the shelter. Thea’s excitement was infectious, and even Taylor found herself feeling something she hadn’t in a while—hope.

They were led into a play area where a few dogs were waiting, tails wagging and eyes shining. One, in particular, caught Taylor’s attention—not because he was the biggest or flashiest, but because he approached her gently, with a kind of quiet confidence.

Taylor’s mind flickered, just for a moment, to the three cats waiting at home. She imagined Meredith’s skeptical glare, Olivia’s dramatic sigh, and Benjamin’s wide-eyed curiosity. “Poor kitties,” she whispered to Travis, a small smile tugging at her lips. “They’re not going to know what hit them.”

He sat patiently, tail brushing the floor, as if waiting for her to decide.

Taylor knelt, her hand reaching out slowly. He stepped closer, pressed his soft head into her palm, and let out a deep, contented sigh.

Her throat tightened.

Thea giggled, running over to pet his side. “Look, Mommy! He loves you!”

Taylor felt Travis’s arm slide around her waist. She leaned into him slightly, still scratching behind the dog’s ears. “I told you,” he murmured. “Sometimes you don’t pick them. They pick you.”

And just like that, her heart made the decision for her.

They brought the dog home that afternoon.

The cats, however, were less convinced. Meredith was the first to approach, her posture regal and unyielding as she perched atop the back of the couch, surveying him with a queen’s disdain. Olivia, ever the drama queen, arched her back and hissed theatrically before darting behind the curtains. Benjamin, curious but cautious, crept forward, his nose twitching as he inspected the new arrival.

The dog, for his part, seemed unfazed. He sat patiently, tail wagging, as if waiting for their verdict. Eventually, Benjamin edged close enough to touch noses. Meredith blinked slowly, then turned away as if to say, “I’ll allow it.” Olivia peeked out from her hiding spot, her wide eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The dog—whom Thea eventually named Jojo after a week of deliberation—became a permanent fixture in their lives.

At first, Taylor was cautious—watching him closely, giving him space. But it didn’t take long for her to fall completely for him. His calm presence was a balm; he’d curl up at her feet while she read or followed her from room to room as she completed her physical therapy exercises. He didn’t demand attention—he offered it quietly, grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

Within weeks, Travis joked that the dog was “all hers,” despite Thea’s best efforts. Thea didn’t mind, though. She loved seeing her mom laugh when the dog nudged her knee or rested his head on her lap.

That evening, the house was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of golden lamplight. Thea had finally fallen asleep after insisting on brushing the dog’s fur until she nearly dozed off herself. Travis had carried her to bed, leaving Taylor downstairs, quietly refilling the water bowl and picking up scattered toys.

As she stood there, Jojo—who by now felt like a quiet sentinel—settled at her feet, pressing his head against her shin. His steady, patient presence was something she’d come to treasure. It was as if he knew when she needed to feel grounded, when her thoughts spun too fast, when the memories crept back in and made her chest ache.

Taylor’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the glass of water she’d left out. Her other hand pressed lightly, almost without thought, against the center of her abdomen — just low enough to make her pause.

There was something about the fatigue lately. The headaches. The way she couldn’t stomach her coffee the past two mornings — and how she'd barely made it through a grilled cheese yesterday before her body revolted.

She’d brushed it off.

Stress, she told herself. Hormones. Just… life.

But that dull warmth beneath her ribs, the steady tingle in her chest, the way her stomach felt both too full and too hollow at the same time — she knew. At least part of her did.

She turned slowly toward the hallway.

Then back to the drawer beside the fridge.

She opened it quietly, hand reaching to the back, where a small pink-and-white box lay tucked behind the kitchen thermometer and band-aids. She hadn’t thrown it away after Thea. Just… left it there. 

Now, her fingers curled around it with something that felt like fear and hope tangled together.

Jojo let out a soft huff beside her.

“I know,” she whispered, barely audible. “I’m scared too.”

She didn’t tell Travis. Not yet. He was upstairs putting Thea to bed — her new favorite routine. Ever since his memory had returned, he rarely missed a night. Taylor would hear him humming off-key lullabies, telling her made-up stories about fairy princesses and football heroes. He’d read “Goodnight Moon” so many times the pages were wearing thin.

She made her way down the hall toward the downstairs bathroom and closed the door behind her. The light buzzed softly overhead. Her hands were trembling now — not violently, but enough to make the wrapper harder to open than it should’ve been.

She hated this part. The waiting. The not knowing.

But she needed to know.

Three minutes.

She stared at the test on the edge of the sink like it might whisper the truth before it was ready.

Three minutes.

She washed her hands.

Brushed a spot on the mirror that wasn’t there.

Leaned down to pet Jojo, who had nosed the bathroom door open and sat watching her with patient, quiet eyes.

And when she looked back up at the test…

Two lines.

Pink. Bold. Undeniable.

Her hand flew to her mouth. The air left her lungs in a short, stunned breath — not fear. Not exactly. Just impact . The sudden weight of everything shifting.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, sinking slowly onto the edge of the tub, the test still in her hand, Jojo pressing his warm body against her legs.

The tears came quickly — but they weren’t panicked or overwhelmed. Not like last time.

These were… different.

She let herself sit there, knees drawn in, head bowed, hands cupping this tiny plastic object like it was sacred.

Then footsteps padded down the stairs — familiar, steady.

“Hey,” Travis called softly, rounding the corner. “You okay? Thea’s down. And I think I read her the plot of Frozen backwards but—Tay?”

He stopped short in the doorway.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, cheeks streaked with tears — and the test held loosely in her hand.

He blinked, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, laughed — a broken, watery sound — and held it out to him.

Travis stared down at the test, his brow furrowed.

And then it hit him.

His eyes widened. “Wait—”

She nodded before he could finish, voice small and sure:
“It’s real.”

There was a beat — a long one — where he didn’t say anything. Just stared at her. At the test. At the possibility. Then he exhaled, a half-sob of disbelief breaking out of his chest. His hands came to his face. He laughed — and it cracked wide open into something beautiful and stunned.

“We’re having another baby?” he whispered.

Taylor nodded, eyes still glistening. “We’re having another baby.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, pulled her into his arms, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, holding her like the moment might slip away if he didn’t anchor it.
Jojo gave a soft, contented woof and nestled his head across Taylor’s foot, like he knew this moment mattered.

“God, I love you,” Travis murmured. “And I love this baby. Already.”

Taylor let out a breathy laugh, forehead pressed to his. “You sure you’re ready for two under four?”

He grinned through his tears. “Absolutely not.”

She laughed harder now — a quiet, cathartic release. He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb and said, softer this time, “But I’m in. All the way in.”

Taylor nodded slowly, hand brushing his jaw. “Me too.”

The next months were a mix of anticipation, nerves, and the quiet, comforting rhythm of family life. Taylor found herself visiting her therapist more often, learning to unpack the layers of trauma that had weighed on her since the shooting. Some days were harder than others, but there was progress—real progress. She’d come home from sessions lighter, breathing deeper, her steps just a little steadier.

And Travis? He became her anchor. He’d pick up Thea from preschool with the dog riding shotgun, or bring home her favorite pastries just because. When Taylor’s wrist ached from too much writing or when the anxiety clawed at her chest, he was there with a steady hand and a quiet, grounding presence.

Jojo followed Taylor from room to room, napping at her feet, curling up on her side of the bed when she was too exhausted to shoo him off. It didn’t take long for him to become her shadow, her silent protector.

By the time Taylor’s belly rounded with the growing life inside her, Jojo was never far from her side. He’d rest his head gently on her knee while she read Thea bedtime stories, or accompany her during her slow walks around the block, tail wagging proudly.

And Thea was ecstatic about becoming a big sister. She’d press her ear to Taylor’s belly, giggling whenever she felt a kick. “Baby likes me!” she’d declare, her face lit with wonder.

Taylor and Travis spent long evenings curled together on the couch, Jojo sprawled at their feet, planning names and talking about nursery colors.

“Something strong,” Travis mused one night, his hand warm against her belly. “Something that means something.”

Taylor smiled softly, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “How about Terrence?” she murmured. “And Oliver. It’s always been a favorite of mine.”

Travis’s breath hitched, his eyes shining. “Terrence Oliver Kelce,” he whispered. “Perfect.”

The night Terrence was born was both chaotic and beautiful. Thea stayed with Donna. Taylor’s labor was long, punctuated by moments of panic and calm, but Travis never left her side. He held her hand through each contraction, murmured quiet encouragements, and helped her breathe through the hardest moments.

When the baby’s first cry filled the room, Taylor sobbed with relief, reaching for him immediately.

He was perfect.

Terrence’s tiny fingers curled instinctively around Travis’s thumb, and his breath caught. “Hey, little man,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Taylor leaned back against the pillows, exhausted but radiant, her eyes shining with tears as she watched them. “He looks just like you,” she murmured, her voice a soft lullaby.

They brought Terrence home a few days later to a house filled with flowers, casseroles, and the gentle chaos of family. Thea insisted on helping with everything—fetching diapers, singing to her brother, even reading him books, despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly understand.

Jojo, ever patient, hovered nearby, nosing at the baby’s feet and licking Taylor’s hand whenever she sat down to feed him.

And one night, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and lavender, Taylor stood by the window, cradling Terrence in her arms. Travis came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Their little family was whole.

“I’m scared sometimes,” she whispered.

“I know,” he murmured into her hair.

“But I’m happy,” she said, turning slightly to meet his gaze. “So happy.”

He kissed her softly, sealing the promise between them. “Me too, Tay. Me too.”

Outside, Jojo chased Thea as she ran barefoot in the grass.

And inside, beneath the quiet hush of evening, love filled the air—steady, patient, unbreakable.

Their story wasn’t perfect. It was messy and hard and full of scars. But it was theirs . And it was beautiful.