Those 7 years: Missing One Shot Chapter

20 Travis's POV

It's been seven long years since Taylor disappeared, and I've tried everything to fill the void she left behind. I kept busy with football, throwing myself into every game, every practice, but no amount of distraction could erase her from my mind. I'd wake up every day hoping today would be different, hoping I'd hear her laugh or feel her warmth beside me.

The media churned out story after story about her disappearance—rumors of her being dead or starting a new life without me. Friends urged me to move on, to find someone else, but the truth was, no one could ever compare to Taylor. She was my heart, my everything, and every day felt like a battle to survive without her.

I was sitting in my living room one afternoon, the sound of the TV filling the silence. My friends had gathered in the backyard, but I couldn't bring myself to join them. Instead, I stared blankly at the screen, lost in memories of her smile, her laughter, the way she lit up a room. I longed to hear her voice again, to know she was safe.

Just then, my phone buzzed, breaking through my haze. I looked down at the screen and didn't recognize the number. Something compelled me to answer it. "Travis Kelce," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Mr. Kelce, this is Detective Reynolds," the voice on the other end was calm but urgent. "I need you to sit down."

My heart raced at the mention of her name. "What's happened? Is it about Taylor?"

"Yes, we've found her. She's alive," he said, and I felt the world shift beneath me. "But she's in a hospital—very vulnerable and scared. I have the name and location of the hospital."

I could hardly process the words. "Where is she? I'm on my way," I said, adrenaline surging through my veins.

The detective provided the details, and I felt a whirlwind of emotions as I raced out of the house. Hope battled against the fear of what I might find. I jumped into my car, the engine roaring to life beneath me, and I drove like a man possessed.

The drive felt like a blur, every second stretching into an eternity as I thought only of Taylor. What had she endured? What scars had been left on her, both inside and out? I clenched the steering wheel, trying to keep my focus on the road while my mind spiraled with questions.

When I finally reached the hospital, I parked haphazardly and dashed inside, my heart pounding in my chest. The receptionist directed me to her room, and every step felt heavy with anticipation. I hesitated just outside the door, taking a moment to breathe and prepare myself for whatever lay beyond.

Pushing the door open, I was struck by the sight before me. Taylor lay in the hospital bed, looking fragile and broken. Her once-vibrant skin was marred by knife scars that told stories of pain I couldn't begin to fathom. An ankle brace held her foot, and a rib brace encased her torso, revealing the extent of her suffering.

My heart shattered as our eyes met. For a moment, I couldn't move; it felt like time had frozen. And then, tears streamed down her cheeks, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I rushed to her side, kneeling beside the bed as I took her hand in mine.

"I'm here, Taylor. I'm here," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

She looked at me with a mix of disbelief and longing, and without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her, feeling the warmth of her lips against mine for the first time in seven years. It was a moment suspended in time, a reconnection that felt both familiar and foreign.

But then a small voice broke through our moment. "Mommy, who's this?"

We turned to see a little boy standing at the foot of the bed, wide-eyed and curious. He looked about five years old, with tousled hair and an innocent expression that hit me like a freight train.