The May Irwin Kiss [Tayvis Fanfiction]

The Fault in Our Stars

One Week Later
October 18th; 2026
Taylor Swift's Point of View
I stare at the torturous black maternity dress. The fabric drapes awkwardly over my body, a stranger staring back at me in the mirror. It's the only thing that arrived on time from my online order, a last-minute attempt to find something appropriate for Grace's funeral. A knot of emotions tightens in my stomach.

There's a flicker of guilt, buried beneath a wave of self-consciousness. This weight gain – almost 50 pounds (22.6kg), the most I've ever carried – is a constant reminder of the miracle I brought into the world just a short time ago. But it's not just the number on the scale. My clothes hang differently, and the curve in the mirror is unfamiliar. The thought of stepping out in public so soon after giving birth, especially at a funeral that will most likely be under the harsh glare of cameras, makes me want to retreat under the covers.

For a fleeting moment, I consider skipping the funeral altogether. Maybe I could send flowers, a heartfelt video with the baby cooing in the background – anything to avoid facing the world in this unfamiliar state. But then, guilt washes over me. This day is about Grace, about honoring her memory and supporting her family during this terrible time. How could I even consider not being there?

Taking a deep breath, I remember the constant pressure – the media's relentless scrutiny, the impossible standards they hold me to. Their perception is a distorted reflection, a carefully curated image that rarely captures the truth of sleepless nights and the fierce love that comes with motherhood. It stings nonetheless.

But Grace... Grace matters more. It's our half-assed friendship, the memories we shared, that truly define me, not a number on the scale or a headline in a tabloid. Steeling my resolve, I fold the dress, a silent promise to myself and to Grace. I will show up, for her, for myself, and to face the world, whatever judgment it may throw my way. I'm Cameron's mother now, and I have a responsibility. 

The black tux clings to Travis's broad shoulders, a stark contrast to the pale cream walls of our bedroom. He glances at his watch again, a frown creasing his forehead. "Are you almost ready to go?" he asks, the impatience barely veiled.

"Almost," I murmur, forcing a smile. My fingers fumble with the zipper on the dress, the silky fabric suddenly suffocating. "Just need to find some shoes."

A lump forms in my throat. This flimsy excuse, this charade of getting ready, has to stop. I take a deep breath, trying to quiet the tremor in my voice. "Travis, we need to talk."

He sighs, a sound heavy with exasperation. "Can it wait? We should be leaving soon."

"No," I say, my voice firmer than I expected. "It can't wait."

He sits on the edge of the bed next to me, the scent of his cologne mixing with the cloying sweetness of lilies from downstairs. "What is it, then?"

My gaze drifts to the window, where the sun bleeds through the curtains. How many times have I sat here, in this very spot, desperately wanting to have this conversation, only to choke back the words? "I can't do this anymore," I finally say, the words tumbling out like stones from a collapsing dam. "For months I've been wanting to say something, but I didn't know how. I just... I felt trapped, like my feelings didn't matter."

Travis's jaw clenches. "Do what?" he asks, his voice tight.

I meet his gaze, the anger in his eyes a familiar sting. "Travis," I say, my voice gaining strength, "have you ever truly thought about why you even love me?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "Don't say the usual things," I plead. "Don't say it's because I'm beautiful or smart. We both know that wouldn't have been enough if I hadn't gotten pregnant." Tears prick at my eyes, blurring the image of his face. "Honestly, I don't even know why I love you. I look at you and all I see are the reasons why I shouldn't."