𝙄𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨 | Taylor Swift | WLW

5

The evening sun in golden warmth poured through the oversized windows of Taylor Swift's sprawling Tribeca penthouse. The ultra-modern elegance was done by rustic, vintage-inspired decor that echoed her style. Plush velvet sofas and antique rugs filled the open living area, but tonight, Taylor barely noticed them. Her usually well-styled blonde hair was dishevelled, falling in soft waves past her shoulders as she trudged into the gourmet kitchen.

Andrea Swift turned with fluid motions of her hands at the stove, making a pot of tea. The air was thick with the comforting smells of chamomile and honey, filling this quaint little kitchen. Taylor slumped onto the stool at the kitchen island as she entered, releasing a deep breath. She ran a hand through her messy hair and let her shoulders drop, clearly exhausted.

Andrea turned to see the exhaustion in her daughter's face. Her soft blonde hair was cascading down, and the warm hazel of her eyes seemed filled with an extra depth of concern. Andrea paused a moment before speaking; her Southern drawl was as soothing as ever. "Long day, sweetheart?" she asked softly.

Taylor nodded, laying her chin in her hand. "You could say that," she muttered, her tone thick with fatigue. She glanced around the kitchen-the sleek marble countertops and high-end appliances in vast contrast to how she appeared at this very moment. "I spent hours in the studio, and then Tree called with about a hundred things I need to finalise before tomorrow."

Andrea poured the tea and headed over to the island, setting down a steamy mug in front of Taylor. "Well, it sounds like you need this," she said, smiling as she sat down beside her. "But, Taylor, you've got to give yourself a break. You've been pushing yourself so hard lately."

Taylor sipped at her tea, feeling the warmth comfort her. "I know, Mom, but for now I just can't afford to take a breather. This new album, the music videos. all have to be perfect." She exhaled, and her blue eyes stared out the window into the waning light of the city. "Sometimes it feels like there's just too much to juggle, you know?"

Andrea reached out and gently squeezed Taylor's hand. "I understand, darling, but remember, you don't always have to handle everything on your own. You have people around you who care about you, and they want you to take care of yourself as well." Her voice was filled with motherly wisdom, offering calm and reassurance.

Taylor smiled softly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease off a little. "Thanks, Mom," she said lighter now. "You always know what to say."

In the kitchen, a comforting silence enveloped the room as Taylor and her mother sat together, the day gradually fading into evening. Taylor felt her heart swell with gratitude for these small, quiet moments with her mother—reminding her that she wasn't just a superstar, but also a daughter who was still finding her way.

Andrea sat beside Taylor at the island in the kitchen, fingers wrapped around her steaming mug of tea. She waited; there was something that seemed to say her daughter needed time before she spoke. Outside, the soft hum of the city filled the gap in sound, but inside the kitchen, it was the two encased in a moment of quiet.

Taylor stared into her mug, her fingers idly tracing the rim. "It's just.," she started, her tone soft, "I don't know, Mom. Lately, it feels like everything's slipping away. Everyone around me seems to want something from me, but no one knows me. Not like the real me."

The lines on Andrea's face softened; concern etched in a mixture of understanding. "Oh, sweetheart," she said softly and leaned to set her hand over Taylor's arm. "I can only imagine times when that must be a lonely feeling."

Taylor nodded, throat tightening as she fought the emotions that'd been stewing below the surface for weeks. "It's just hard, you know?" she said, her voice catching. "Everyone thinks they know me because they've listened to my songs or seen me on tour. But it's like every relationship feels like it's built on what I can do for them. What I represent, not who I am."