unfinished echoes - taylor swift

16

Taylor's visits became a routine of quiet persistence, though each one felt like an act of desperation. She wasn't sure if Daisy was still listening, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. The silence between them was suffocating, yet Taylor clung to the hope that one day, Daisy would let her in again.

She sat outside Daisy's door, talking about everything and nothing at all. She'd share stories from her day, talking about the tiniest details-like a song she'd heard on the radio or the coffee shop she'd gone to after a meeting. Sometimes, when Daisy didn't turn up the music or pretend to ignore her, Taylor would try to reminisce about moments they'd shared-laughing at stupid jokes or late-night talks that once felt like they meant the world.

"I remember when we spent hours at that stupid diner, arguing about what movie to watch next," Taylor spoke softly one afternoon, her voice trembling with emotion. "You were so certain that The Notebook was overrated. I still don't understand why, but I miss you fighting with me over it."

There was no response, only the faint hum of the music from inside the room. Taylor sighed, resting her head against the door, trying to summon the strength to keep going.

Weeks passed, each one heavier than the last. Daisy's isolation deepened. Her body weakened further, the illness claiming more of her, and the mirror that once held a vibrant woman now reflected someone unrecognizable. Daisy's strength had always been her stubbornness, but now it felt like that same stubbornness was slowly suffocating her.

One evening, after an especially quiet day, Taylor found herself sitting on the floor in front of Daisy's door, her back pressed against it as she fought off the lump in her throat. She could hear Daisy inside, shuffling about in her room, but there were no sounds of movement-no sign of life other than the occasional muffled sob. Taylor didn't want to push, but the silence felt like a scream, one she couldn't ignore.

"Please, Daisy," Taylor whispered, more to herself than to the woman behind the door. "Please don't do this."

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, lost in her own thoughts, before she heard the faintest sound. The door cracked open just a sliver, and Daisy's face appeared, pale and tired, eyes empty but still holding onto something-something that wasn't entirely gone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of everything hung in the air, unspoken yet undeniable. Finally, Daisy's voice broke through the silence, soft and raw.

"You don't need to keep doing this, Taylor," she whispered, her words barely audible. "I'm not the person you think I am anymore."

Taylor swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "You're still Daisy. You're still the same person you were before. You've just... you've been through so much. And it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to let people in."

Daisy shook her head slightly, her gaze falling to the floor. "I don't know how to let anyone in anymore. Not even you."

Taylor's heart shattered, but she refused to look away. "I'm not going anywhere, Daisy. Not now, not ever. You don't have to fight this alone."

For a long moment, Daisy said nothing. Then, slowly, she opened the door wider, stepping back just enough for Taylor to enter. She didn't say anything, but the small gesture-barely a crack in her fortress-was everything.

Taylor stood up, her breath shaky with relief, and walked inside, her eyes never leaving Daisy's. The room felt colder than usual, but it was quieter now. The walls that had once seemed insurmountable now felt like something Daisy was finally willing to let Taylor help tear down.

Taylor walked over to the bed, sitting beside Daisy without saying a word. For a long time, they sat there in silence, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets as Daisy shifted slightly.