Uncovered Secret: Taylor Swift Has A Daughter - Fanfiction

Chapter 8: The Fight

The tension between Bridget and me had been simmering for days, bubbling beneath the surface of our forced smiles and brief exchanges. It finally erupted the day after the talk with my mom, the grey clouds outside mirroring the storm brewing.

I approached her while she was sprawled on the couch, her eyes darting across the screen of her phone, her fingers tapping impatiently against the glass.

"Bee, we need to talk. I know something is bothering you," I said, my voice quivering slightly under the weight of the words that hung between us.

She looked up, her eyes cold, a stark contrast to the warmth they always held. "Oh, now you want to talk? After the whole world has seen the circus?"

I flinched at her words, but pressed on, "Bee, I've always tried to do what's best for you. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Oh, so it's about what you meant now? Or is it about how you couldn't stand the world knowing you're a mother?" she retorted, her words slicing through the air.

My chest tightened, "You know that's not true. I did it to protect you, to give you a normal life."

"A normal life? Is that what you call hiding me away like some shameful secret?" Her voice rose with every word, her face flushed with anger and hurt.

I could feel my own anger boiling over, "I did not hide you out of shame! I love you more than anything in this world, Bridget."

She laughed bitterly, "Love? By keeping me away from my own father, by lying to the world, by lying to me?"

Her words were a barrage of accusations, each one a piercing blow. "It was never about lying. It was about keeping you safe, away from the relentless scrutiny, the ruthless media!"

"Oh, so now it's the media's fault? Or is it mine for wanting to have a real family, for wanting to know my father, for wanting to live a life outside this... this lie!" she yelled, her tears now streaming down her cheeks.

The hurt in her eyes was a reflection of the shattered pieces of our once unbreakable bond. "Bridget, I... I was just trying to—"

"No, you were just trying to keep your perfect image intact! Well, congratulations, Mom, you did it. Are you happy now?" Her words were a storm that left me drenched in a downpour of guilt and regret.

"Where is this coming from?" I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes as well.

Bridget was now yelling while crying, slowly moving away from me. "Dad, okay?! Dad. Dad and I have been talking and he told me everything about my childhood. Dad was also the one that said this would've never happened if I lived with him!!"

I felt a cold chill run through me as her words echoed through the silent room. The air seemed to thicken with every passing second, suffocating the remnants of the understanding we once had.

"Bridget, you know that's not true. Your dad and I, we... we had our differences but we both wanted what's best for you," I stammered, trying to find the right words to mend the widening rift between us.

"Oh, so now you're speaking for him too? Have you ever thought about what I wanted? Or was it always about protecting 'Taylor Swift's' image?" Her voice trembled with fury and betrayal.

The accusation stung, resonating through the hollow chambers of my guilt. I struggled to find my voice, to explain the years of sleepless nights, the endless worry, the desire to shield her from the carnivorous eyes of the world.

"Bee, I... I just wanted you to have a chance at a normal life. A chance I never had," my voice broke as I uttered the words, the tears now carving paths down my cheeks.

"A normal life? By alienating me from my own father? By hiding me away like some dark secret?" Her face was a canvas of hurt, painted with the harsh reality of our strained relationship.

"I did it all out of love, Bridget. I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe," I whispered, my voice a fragile thread amidst the storm that raged between us.

"Love? Is that what you call it? Because from where I stand, it looks a lot like control," she spat out the words, each syllable a dagger thrust into the fragile heart of our relationship.

I watched as she stormed out of the room, her sobbing a haunting melody that played to the rhythm of my breaking heart. I was left amidst the ruins of the fortress I had built around her, a fortress that now stood as a monumental barrier between us.

The room seemed to close in on me, the walls a reminder of the prison I had inadvertently built around the most precious part of my life. And as I sunk to the floor, the realization hit me like a tidal wave; in my quest to protect her, I had isolated her, not just from the world, but from the truth, from her father, from a part of herself.