In the Blink of an Eye

Chapter Nine

A/N: Hopefully, you don't hate me after reading this. Also, did anyone see Taylor out in New York wearing plaid again and that same watch? I'm just saying... I'm noticing things!

December 14, 2020

As the sunlight streamed through the blinds, Taylor turned her head into the pillows, refusing to open her eyes just yet. After everything that had happened last night, a small part of her believed that maybe—just maybe—everything might be okay.

Sure, it had only been four days, but she felt like she'd learned so much about Travis. His love wasn't quiet or hesitant—it was bold and unrelenting, and she had come to terms with that.

Finally, she opened her eyes—and in that very moment, a wave of nausea washed over her. Blinking rapidly, she registered the familiar walls surrounding her, the ones she'd stared at countless mornings before. Her and Joe's home.

Her stomach twisted, and she quickly sat up in bed, her heart racing. She scanned the room, her eyes searching for something—or someone. But it was just her. Alone.

Was this some kind of sick joke? A punishment? A cruel lesson?

Her breath hitched as the realization sank in. Just when she'd finally started to come to terms with everything, it was all ripped away.

She bolted out of bed, her feet carrying her to the bathroom. Dropping to her knees, she barely made it before she was hunched over the toilet, her stomach heaving. The nausea felt deeper than physical—it was gut-wrenching, soul-deep, leaving her trembling on the cold tile floor.

After a moment, she forced herself to rise from the floor, her legs trembling beneath her. She turned the faucet on, waiting until the water ran warm before splashing it onto her face, the droplets mixing with tears she couldn't hold back.

Her hands gripped the edge of the bathroom counter so tightly that her knuckles turned white. A quiet, broken sob escaped her lips, echoing in the silence of the room.

How could this be happening again?

Her chest heaved as questions clawed at her mind. This wasn't even possible. It wasn't enough to make her endure it once? She'd just started to believe everything might be okay.

But now, standing in the harsh light of the bathroom, it felt like a cruel, cosmic joke. As if the universe had dangled actual happiness in front of her only to snatch it away.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" His voice cut through the silence like a knife. It was familiar, painfully so. Taylor thought she'd feel relief as she turned to face Joe, but instead, a hot wave of anger washed over her.

Last night? Last night, she wasn't here. She was with Travis. Travis. The name echoed in her mind, and her chest tightened.

She studied Joe carefully—his eyes were dark, shadowed by something she couldn't place, and his jaw was clenched like he was holding back a storm.

"What?" The word slipped out of her lips, barely above a whisper.

He scoffed, the sound cold and dismissive. "Seriously, Taylor? Don't do this shit." His tone was sharp, harsher than anything she'd ever heard from him before.

Her stomach dropped. The man in front of her—the one she thought she knew better than anyone—felt like a stranger.

"We agreed to keep everything quiet," Joe began, his tone biting. "But what am I supposed to do, Taylor? Things won't stay quiet if you're going on talk shows and making plans for a tour," he added, his voice rising slightly. "You're going to ruin us."

Taylor blinked, her head spinning. She searched his face for some kind of softness, some trace of the man she once leaned on, but all she saw was frustration and something darker.

"Did you think I would give up my career?" Taylor shot back, her voice rising with frustration. She always knew Joe valued privacy, craved simplicity—but now, after even just a few days of feeling truly seen, truly accepted, she couldn't ignore the glaring cracks in their relationship.

"That's not what I'm asking you to do," Joe snapped, his tone cutting, "but I think it's pretty clear which one matters more to you."

He didn't wait for her response. Turning sharply, he walked out of the room, leaving her standing there—stunned, angry, and more alone than she'd ever felt.

Taylor let her tears fall freely now, unchecked and unrestrained. Before any of this—before the disorientating blur of time shifts and the impossible—she thought she'd been happy with Joe. She had convinced herself of it. But now, that certainty felt like a distant, distorted memory, one she wasn't sure she could trust anymore.

Questions flooded her mind, each one clawing at her insides, demanding answers she knew she'd never get.

Her feet felt heavy as she walked out of the bathroom, each step dragging her closer to the bed. Tears blurred her vision as she reached for her phone on the nightstand, her hand trembling slightly.

Sinking onto the mattress, she scrolled through her contacts aimlessly, her finger hesitating over her mom's name.

Maybe if she just said it out loud—to someone who knew her, who loved her—it would all make sense. Or maybe they'd think she was losing her mind. Maybe she was. Maybe this was the kind of thing that landed people in a psychiatrist's office.