THE LUCKY ONE | Taylor Swift Adoption

THREE

The cold bit into Elle's skin as she sat huddled on a park bench, the thin fabric of her pyjamas offering little protection against the cold Edinburgh night. It was well past midnight, and the park was deserted, save for the distant hum of city traffic. Her breaths came out in visible puffs, and she shivered as the wind rustled through nearby trees. She had left the flat in a rush, her heart pounding from the argument with her dad.

The fight had started over something small, as they always did. But it had escalated quickly. Elle had been trying to help him find his cigarettes when he yelled at her for not being more responsible, for not doing enough around the house. His words had cut deep, each insult harsher than the last.

"You're always in the way," he had shouted. "You never do anything right. Why do I have to take care of you when you can't even take care of yourself?"

Elle remembered the sting of his words and the way he had slammed his fist against the wall, the anger in his eyes. She had backed away, tears stinging her eyes, but he hadn't stopped. His voice had been a storm of anger and disappointment, filling the flat with a suffocating tension.

In her memory, the argument seemed to stretch on forever. Her dad had raged on about the state of the flat, about how she never helped, about how she was just another burden. His face had been twisted in frustration, his words a barrage of accusations. Elle had felt powerless, her attempts to calm him met with more anger.

Eventually, she fled, grabbing her coat and running out into the cold night. She found herself at the park, trying to escape the echoes of the fight and the weight of her dad's cruel words. The park was a place she went to think, a quiet refuge from the chaos of her home.

The sound of footsteps approached, but Elle barely registered it, lost in her thoughts.

The footsteps stopped, and a figure appeared in her line of sight. The figure was wearing a baseball cap pulled low, oversized sunglasses, and a dark coat-an outfit that seemed a bit out of place for the hour. The figure moved closer, revealing a kind face beneath the hat. Taylor Swift, who had just finished her final show in Edinburgh, had spotted Elle and recognised her from the concert.

"Hey, are you alright?" Taylor's voice cut through the silence, gentle and concerned. She crouched down in front of Elle, taking off her sunglasses and revealing her bright, empathetic eyes.

Elle looked up, startled by the familiar face. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn't find her voice. She had been so absorbed in her distress that she hadn't expected to encounter anyone, let alone Taylor Swift. Her emotions were still raw, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Taylor's expression softened as she took in Elle's tear-streaked face and the way she was shivering in her pyjamas. She sat down on the bench beside Elle, keeping a respectful distance but offering a comforting presence.

"Mind if I sit with you?" Taylor asked, her tone soothing. Elle nodded, barely able to muster a response. Taylor settled beside her, the warmth of her presence contrasting sharply with the biting cold.

For a few moments, the two sat in silence, Taylor occasionally glancing at Elle with a concerned expression. The chill in the air seemed to seep into their bones, but Taylor made no move to break the silence, sensing that Elle needed time.

Eventually, Taylor spoke again, her voice gentle. "It's pretty late to be out here alone. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Elle shook her head, her gaze fixed on the ground. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words and a pain too deep to articulate.