The roar of the crowd was deafening, a symphony of excitement that filled Arrowhead Stadium as the Kansas City Chiefs battled their rivals on the field. Taylor sat in the suite, surrounded by friends and family, her heart racing with every snap of the ball. She loved these moments—watching Travis excel, his athleticism on full display, every catch and tackle igniting a wave of pride within her.
But as the game wore on, the intensity heightened. The score was tied, the clock winding down. Taylor leaned forward in her seat, her focus solely on Travis. With each play, she felt a swell of hope for a victory, but that hope quickly turned to horror when she saw Travis make a sudden, sharp cut to evade a defender. In an instant, he collapsed to the ground, clutching his knee. The stadium fell silent, the energy shifting from excitement to shock.
"Travis!" Taylor's voice echoed through the suite as panic flooded her. Without a second thought, she jumped to her feet, darting towards the exit, her heart racing as she pushed through the throngs of fans. Each step felt like a mile, dread twisting in her stomach.
As she reached the sidelines, she could see the trainers surrounding Travis. He was on the ground, clearly in pain, his face contorted as he grimaced. She rushed to his side, kneeling beside him.
"Travis! What happened?" she cried, her voice cracking with worry.
"I think I hurt my knee," he gasped, struggling to maintain his composure.
The trainers were assessing the situation, their faces serious. Taylor's heart sank as she listened to their hushed tones. "We need to get him inside for evaluation," one of them said.
"Is it bad?" Taylor pressed, anxiety clawing at her.
"It could be," another trainer replied. "We'll need to do further tests."
Taylor felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her. She watched helplessly as they helped Travis to his feet, supporting his weight. She refused to let go of his hand as they made their way toward the car, the noise of the game fading into the background.
Once inside, Taylor was ushered to the waiting area, where she paced anxiously. The tension was palpable, each second dragging on painfully as she waited for news. Finally, a doctor emerged, his expression somber.
"Ms. Swift?" he called, and Taylor rushed to him, her heart pounding.
"What's wrong? Is Travis okay?" she asked breathlessly.
"He's going to need an MRI," the doctor replied. "We suspect he may have torn his ACL. We need to confirm it first, but if it's a tear, he will require surgery."
Taylor felt her stomach drop. "Surgery? Is he going to be okay?"
"Right now, we need to focus on getting him the care he needs," the doctor said, guiding her toward Travis's room.
When she entered, Travis was lying on the examination table, his knee wrapped in ice and elevated. He looked pale but managed a weak smile when he saw her.
"Tay," he said, his voice strained but grateful. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You scared me half to death!" she replied, taking his hand. "What did they say?"
"They think it's my ACL," he admitted, frustration lining his features. "I just can't believe this is happening."
"You're going to get through this," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "We'll figure it out together."
After the MRI, the doctor returned, his expression grave. "Travis has indeed torn his ACL. He will need surgery to repair it, and the recovery process will take several months."
