unfinished echoes - taylor swift

17

As the weeks turned into months, Daisy's condition slowly began to improve. The treatments, though grueling and exhausting, were starting to show results. Her energy was still low, but there were moments when she felt a flicker of her old self-those small victories, like being able to eat a full meal without feeling sick, or taking a short walk around the garden without feeling winded.

Taylor was there for every step of it, not just as a source of comfort, but as a quiet, steady presence that anchored Daisy. She kept up her habit of showing up for every treatment, sitting quietly beside her during the long hours in the hospital, bringing books or just talking about whatever came to mind, helping the time pass in whatever way she could. Even on Daisy's worst days, when the pain seemed unbearable and the exhaustion too much to handle, Taylor never wavered. She never asked Daisy to be strong. She just allowed Daisy to be, offering the kind of acceptance that slowly began to rebuild something deep within her.

On the days when Daisy felt too sick to even sit up, Taylor would simply hold her hand, offering gentle words of encouragement. Sometimes, she didn't even speak. It was enough just to be there, silently telling Daisy she wasn't alone.

One particular afternoon, after another chemotherapy session, Daisy was lying on the couch, her body feeling like lead, her skin pale, but there was something different in her eyes. She was starting to look a little more like herself again, a spark of life returning to her features. Angelina, had made her favorite soup for lunch, and although Daisy wasn't particularly hungry, she tried to eat.

"Are you feeling better?" Taylor asked, her voice soft as she perched on the edge of the couch, watching Daisy's every movement with a concerned but hopeful gaze.

Daisy nodded slowly, lifting the spoon to her lips, her movements sluggish but steady. "Yeah," she said after a long pause, her voice still hoarse but filled with a hint of something warmer. "I mean... I'm not great, but I'm better. A little, at least."

Taylor smiled, her heart lifting at the progress she could see. It wasn't huge, but it was real, and it was a start. "That's a good sign. The little things add up."

Daisy shrugged, looking at her spoon, her fingers tracing the edge. "It feels like it's taking forever. Like I'm stuck in this never-ending cycle of treatments and sickness."

Taylor's smile softened, and she reached out to squeeze Daisy's hand. "You're not stuck. You're moving forward, even if it's slow. You're fighting every day, Daisy. That's something worth celebrating."

Daisy looked up at her then, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. For a moment, the weight of everything-of the treatments, the fear, the doubt-seemed to lift, just enough to let her see the truth in Taylor's words.

"Thanks," Daisy whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She didn't have the words to explain what she was feeling-how much Taylor's support had meant, how much it had changed everything for her-but she didn't need to. It was in the way she held Taylor's gaze, the way her hand lingered in Taylor's, the way she let herself believe, for the first time in a long while, that things could get better.

Over the following weeks, Daisy's strength continued to return in small, steady increments. She started taking longer walks in the garden, her steps slower at first, but with more confidence each time. There were days when the fatigue hit harder than others, when she had to rest for hours after a short walk or a meal, but the improvement was undeniable. Her appetite, once lost, began to come back, and with it, a sense of normalcy that Daisy had feared she would never experience again.

Taylor continued to be by her side every step of the way. There were still hard days-days when Daisy couldn't muster the energy to do much at all-but even on those days, Taylor was there, reminding her of how far she'd come. On the days when Daisy struggled to believe that she could heal, Taylor reminded her that it was okay to take things one day at a time. They didn't need to have everything figured out right now. What mattered was that Daisy was still fighting.