Nova [Tayvis Fanfiction]

RED GIANT

24 Weeks Post Accident
Taylor Swift's Point of View
The weight of it all presses down on me as I sit beside Travis, gripping his hand, wondering if he even knows I'm here. Each day feels heavier, like I'm sinking into something I can't climb out of. It's been two weeks since I last came. Every time I leave, I promise myself I'll come back sooner, but I keep finding excuses. Seeing him like this is unbearable.

"Hey, honey," I whisper, my voice already breaking. "Sorry I haven't stopped by. It's been... hard. Seeing you hurts." I swallow, forcing myself to hold it together, but the pain is right there, clawing at my throat. "I spent Christmas with your family. It was actually... surprisingly nice." I try to force a smile, but it doesn't reach my heart. "Donna and I really bonded, and Kylie makes a really good casserole."

My voice trembles, and I can't pretend anymore. "I really need you to wake up, Travis," I say, barely holding back the tears. "It's two weeks, only two more weeks, and... I don't know how to survive as a single mother." The words come out in a sigh, soft and afraid, like saying them aloud might somehow make them real.

I look at his face, hoping, just for a second, to see even a flicker, a sign, something to tell me he's still in there. But there's nothing, just the steady beep of the machines and the sound of my own shaky breathing.

I know I'm not supposed to do this, but I can't stand the distance any longer. I stand up and carefully, almost hesitantly, crawl into bed beside him. The space is tight—my belly's gotten so much bigger—but I just need to feel close to him, to be right there as if he could wrap his arms around me again. I rest my head against his shoulder, my hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall, the rhythm that tells me he's still here, even if only physically.

"I'm able to feel the baby kicking from the outside now," I whisper, placing my hand over my belly. I close my eyes, imagining his reaction—the smile, the wonder. He would have been so amazed, so excited.

A tear slips down my cheek as I lay there, tracing soft circles over my belly, hoping, praying for a miracle. "Please, Travis. We need you."

I gently lift his hand and slide it under my shirt, placing it over my belly. His hand feels warm and familiar, and even though he's not conscious, the connection makes me feel like he's here with me. I place my own hand over his, pressing it gently, feeling that faint comfort in his touch. "It's beautiful, right?" I whisper, imagining his reaction, the pride he would feel.

Then, as if our baby senses him there, a series of big, powerful thumps ripple through my belly. My eyes widen, and a surprised laugh escapes me. "Oh jeez, do you feel those?" I say, my voice barely above a whisper, as if he might actually answer. The kicks keep coming, each one stronger than the last, as if our daughter is trying to say hello to her dad in her own way.

I keep his hand there, letting him feel each little movement. "She knows you're here," I say, my voice breaking. "She feels you. We both do." I press his hand a little tighter, wishing with every beat of my heart that he'd somehow respond, that he'd squeeze my hand back, that he'd wake up and be here with us. "Do you feel us?"

I pause, my heart pounding, as a strange sensation ripples through me. I can still feel his hand under mine, but it isn't still—it's pressing back. A small, tentative squeeze, almost as if he's trying to reach me. I stare at his fingers, barely daring to breathe, my mind racing to make sense of it.

The baby has been kicking for weeks now, but this isn't her. This is Travis. It has to be.

My throat tightens as I hold his hand a little firmer. "Travis?" I whisper, my voice breaking. "Is that you?" I'm almost afraid to believe it, terrified it's a trick of my mind or wishful thinking.