You'll Be Alright - Taylor Swift

Part 32

The final notes of Karma reverberate through the stadium, and I hold the last pose, a broad grin lighting up my face. The cheering is thunderous, echoing in my bones. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck, and adrenaline surges through my veins, but all I can think about is her—my little survivor, my daughter.

I blink against the glaring lights, taking in the roaring crowd one final time. This entire tour has felt surreal, yet nothing compares to what happened just a few songs ago. I can't stop replaying that moment in my head: Ry perched at the piano, wearing her little tails and top hat, her fingers dancing over the keys with such poise. My heart clenches at the memory. She played. After weeks of not so much as glancing at a piano, she finally played again, and in front of thousands upon thousands of people. She looked so free, so alive, so...brave.

And then, as if that weren't overwhelming enough, she actually called me her Mama.

I've been floating on air from the moment those words left her lips. There are still a few more shows left on this tour, but knowing she's here, waiting for me backstage, makes every performance feel like a grand finale.

The lights dip as I lift the microphone to my lips, murmuring a quick, breathless thanks to the fans before stepping off the raised platform. My legs tremble—half from the performance, half from the torrent of emotions swirling inside me: pride, astonishment, and a tidal wave of motherly love that never seems to diminish, no matter how many times I see her.

Somehow, I manage a final wave, blowing kisses to the crowd, though I hardly register their cheers. My mind has already raced ahead, desperate to find Ryan. The second the house lights dim for the interlude, I rush off the stage. My heart still hammers from the show, but it hammers twice as hard from the sheer force of emotion ravaging my chest.

I barely hear the usual chorus of "That was amazing!" "You were brilliant!" "You smashed it, Tay!" as I dart down the steps. I know I should stop, thank my crew, hug my band—but all I can think about is her.

"She's incredible, Taylor, truly!" one of the dancers calls, beaming. I nod, my lips curving into an automatic smile. I want to respond, but the words stick in my throat. All I manage is a breathless laugh before pressing on, weaving through the bustle backstage.

"Tay!" someone else shouts, but I hold up a hand, my polite smile locked in place, silently promising I'll be right back. I just need to see her first.

It feels as though the entire backstage area has joined forces to slow me down—everyone wants to offer a high-five or quick congratulations—but I gently push my way through, chest constricting, eyes darting around for the one person who can point me to Ryan. That's when I spot Tree standing off to the side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she watches me charge around like a woman possessed.

"She's in your dressing room with Austin," Tree announces, even before I can open my mouth. Her expression softens, clearly as moved by Ry's performance as I am. "Go on," she adds gently, stepping aside so I can pass.

I don't need telling twice. I bolt down the corridor, tears already prickling the corners of my eyes—a mix of relief and love threatening to overspill. My heart thunders faster with every step until, at last, I reach my dressing room door. My hand hovers over the handle, my lungs tight with anticipation. She called me Mama. The little echo of her voice in my memory makes my breath catch all over again.

I swallow, tears burning behind my eyes, then push the door open.

The dressing room door gives way beneath my trembling hand, and the moment I step inside, the air feels different—thick with anticipation and love so strong it's almost tangible. I spot Ryan seated on the little sofa, legs dangling and her hat still perched on her head from earlier. Austin is next to her, the two of them whispering, but as soon as Ryan catches sight of me, her gaze lights up with an unspoken question, and for a fraction of a second, we simply stare at one another.