Tayvis One-Shots

you've got the wrong idea

Taylor's POV

It started innocently enough. I wasn't snooping, really, I wasn't. Travis had forgotten his gym bag by the front door, and I was just trying to help him out. It wasn't like him to leave things lying around. He was meticulous, the kind of guy who folded his laundry immediately and knew exactly where his car keys were at all times.

When I bent down to pick up the bag, something fell out—a small, nondescript black box. I froze as it hit the hardwood floor with a soft thud. My breath caught as I stared at it, unmoving.

A ring box.

My heart hammered as I reached for it, my fingers trembling. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn't even his. But as I turned it over in my hand, the weight of it pressed into me. It was his. I knew it.

Before I could stop myself, I opened it.

And there it was—a diamond ring, elegant and timeless, nestled inside.

My chest tightened as confusion flooded me. A ring? For who? My mind raced through possibilities, none of them good. He hadn't mentioned anything about this. We hadn't talked about getting married yet. The logical side of me whispered that maybe—just maybe—this was for me.

But logic didn't stand a chance against the tidal wave of insecurities crashing over me.

What if it wasn't?

What if he was seeing someone else?

My mind spiraled. I thought about all the nights he'd been away for games, the times he'd stayed late at practice. He always called, always texted, but... what if?

I sank to the floor, clutching the box as tears blurred my vision. Every worst-case scenario played out in my head like a movie I couldn't turn off. What if he had someone else? Someone he'd been sneaking off to see when I thought he was working?

I paced the living room, my thoughts spiraling out of control. Each step felt heavier than the last. I replayed every moment in our relationship, searching for signs I might have missed. Times he'd been distracted. Times he hadn't answered his phone right away.

By the time I sat on the couch, my breathing was ragged, my chest heaving with suppressed sobs. The box sat on the coffee table, taunting me. My heart screamed for answers I didn't have.

Minutes felt like hours as I sat there, staring at it, tears streaking down my face. When I heard the sound of his truck pulling into the driveway, my chest tightened.

The front door opened, and his familiar voice called out, "Babe? You home?"

I didn't respond.

He rounded the corner, still in his practice gear, his hair damp from a post-workout shower. His smile dropped the second he saw me sitting there, red-eyed and clutching the box.

"Taylor? What's wrong?" he asked, concern lacing his voice as he dropped his bag and moved toward me.

I held up the box like it was a piece of evidence. "This is what's wrong!" My voice cracked as I spoke, the tears spilling over again. "I found it, Travis. And I... I don't even know what to think. Who is it for?"

His brow furrowed, and he looked at the box in my hand. For a split second, I saw panic flash across his face, and it only made the knot in my stomach tighten.

"Taylor..." he started, his voice soft but cautious.

"Don't 'Taylor' me!" I snapped, standing up. "Just tell me the truth. Are you seeing someone else? Is this why you've been so busy lately?"