A Cruel Summer

Chapter 27

Karlie finds herself, once again, standing in the VIP tent, completely mesmerized. It's the final night of the European leg of Taylor's tour. After the previous night's show, and the internet firestorm her presence and Taylor's unexpected kiss had created, the attention on Karlie has tripled, if not quadrupled. Every time her gaze flickers from Taylor and to the crowd in front of her, it is met with dozens of pairs of eyes watching her, analyzing her. Is she singing? Does she know every single word to every single lyric? Is she enjoying the show, or simply another cog in the media machine? The scrutiny is palpable, a thousand tiny flashlights dissecting her every twitch, searching for hidden messages in her every smile.

That morning, she woke to a slew of articles, think pieces, and pure speculation about her relationship with Taylor. As far as she knows, 'Kaylor' is still #1 trending on Twitter.

At first, she was anxious. Social media was in a frenzy, digging into their past and their present, the signs that were there and the signs that they missed and were now surfacing. Every lyric was being dissected. Karlie's life was being dissected.

And Josh was angry. Though they had limited their communication to simply coordination for the kids, this morning was different. She woke up to a barrage of texts from her ex-husband, his words laced with a possessive venom that stung like a slap. He called her an embarrassment, a liability, and worst of all, a bad mother.

The messages started her day with a gut punch, an instinct to run. But when she turned over in the bed, her gaze falling on the blonde sleeping peacefully at her side, an overwhelming wave of defiance washed over her, stronger than the tide of negativity threatening to pull her under. That moment was a testament to the life Karlie is choosing to create, one filled with love, acceptance, and the freedom to build her own narrative, her own happiness.

And now, watching Taylor perform, Karlie can't be bothered to care about what anyone thinks. The background noise fades to a distant hum as her attention fixates on Taylor, on stage, doing what she loves. And Karlie couldn't be prouder.

Soon enough, the show ends, and she finds herself in the back of an SUV with Tree and a sweaty, tired, post-concert Taylor, en route to the airport.

"I can't wait to be home," Taylor sighs, leaning her head on Karlie's shoulder.

Karlie hums in agreement, resting her own head on Taylor's, her hand tracing gently patterns against her thigh.

"Karlie, honey, can you send me the videos and pictures you took at the shows?" Tree pipes up suddenly from the front seat.

"Uh – yeah, sure," Karlie responds, her brow furrowing in confusion, "Why?"

"Going to have you post an Instagram," Tree says through a yawn, "Control the narrative."

"Are you sure?" Karlie asks, her voice barely a whisper, "Tay, are you okay with that?"

Taylor lifts her head, her tired eyes meeting Karlie's, "Yeah, babe, if you are. There's too much talk going around. Some of those posts today have been so fucking annoying, 'PR this, publicity stunt that.' I wouldn't hate to shut them up," she finishes with a soft laugh. She readjusts, leaning her back against the car door, stretching her exhausted legs over Karlie's lap.

Karlie feels a spark ignite within her at Taylor's approval. Shutting them up, reclaiming their story, it holds a certain allure.

"Maybe we don't need to shut them up entirely," Karlie muses, her voice still soft. "Maybe we can just... rewrite the script."

She glances at Tree in the rearview mirror, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Rewrite the script?"

Karlie nods, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We give them a glimpse, a hint of the truth, but not the whole story. Not yet, at least. We leave them guessing, wondering, whispering. We make them work for it, search for the breadcrumbs. And then –," she pauses for dramatic effect, "They watch Taylor's documentary. They have to tune in to hear the whole story."