Nova [Tayvis Fanfiction]

REDSHIFT

Ten Weeks Until Due Date
Taylor Swift's Point of View
Being seven months pregnant is a pain in the fucking ass. I mean, don't get me wrong—I like being pregnant, believe it or not. There's something so amazing about feeling this little life growing inside me, knowing she's safe, warm, and waiting to meet the world. But goddamn, it's getting harder with every passing day. My back feels like it's been put through a wringer, my bladder has a mind of its own, I'm always hungry, and acid reflux has become my new best friend. And let's not even start on the exhaustion; no matter how much I sleep, I feel like I'm running on empty.

Today was my baby shower, and despite all my current discomforts, I had a lot of fun. I played a bunch of ridiculous games, the kind that have you trying to guess the baby's weight and eating melted chocolate out of diapers for laughs. My friends and family were so generous—I have enough tiny onesies, diapers, and blankets to last a lifetime. I loved seeing how excited everyone was, asking all about the baby and how I was feeling. But, of course, it came with a side of unsolicited advice that could fill a book.

Honestly, I felt like I was getting hit from all angles. One person would tell me I had to breastfeed, while someone else warned against it. Another would tell me co-sleeping was dangerous, only for the next person to swear it was the only way they got any sleep. Everyone felt like they had some golden nugget of wisdom to pass on, but it was exhausting to smile and nod while the advice turned into a full-on debate in front of me.

The only piece of advice I actually took to heart came from Kylie. She pulled me aside, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Everyone's going to give you advice you didn't ask for. The best thing to do is just ignore it and trust your gut. If your baby's happy, healthy, and growing, you're doing just fine." I appreciated her honesty. She reminded me that this is my journey, and it's okay not to do things exactly the way someone else did.

By far, the worst advice came from a "friend" who pushed a bit too far. She cornered me to ask about the father, and I explained Travis's situation as neutrally as I could. Her reaction was... brutal, to say the least. She had plenty to say about Travis's memory issues and the idea of him being a part of our child's life. Let's just say she's no longer a friend. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but they're also entitled to keep it to themselves if it's that judgmental.

Travis was there, and I could tell he was excited to be included. But he seemed a little hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he really fit in at this kind of event. He looked like he was trying to find his place, a little lost but smiling. A few people asked why he was there, and I just told them the truth—no tiptoeing around it. I told them he was the father. Despite any awkwardness, it felt good having him there. I think he enjoyed it too, even if he was trying to navigate the strange mix of baby talk, gifts, and games. I loved seeing him look so genuinely happy, even if he was still finding his way.

"Thank you so much for coming. It was really great to see you." I wrap Abigail in a hug, holding on a few seconds longer than I meant to. Abigail has been one of my best friends for so long, someone who knows me through and through.

"Of course! I'd never miss this! You came to my shower, after all." She gives me a warm smile before she heads toward the door, but something pulls at me.

"Abigail?" I call, a slight hesitation in my voice. "Can I ask you something?"

She stops and turns back, her face curious and open. "Of course. What's up?"

I glance over my shoulder at Travis, who's tidying up, carefully stacking plates and folding blankets from the party. There's a weight on my chest that I can't ignore, a knot of anxiety I've been carrying since he first woke up. "What do you think of him? Of Travis, I mean. Like... truthfully?"