GUILTY

Five Weeks LaterDecember 13th; 2018Taylor Swift's Point of ViewAs I step into the dimly lit club, my birthday barely registers in my mind, overshadowed by a relentless wave of anxiety that seems to engulf my every thought. Normally, I'd opt for something classier to mark the occasion, but tonight, in an attempt to escape my troubles, I find myself in a trashy club, where the pulsating music and flashing lights serve as a temporary distraction.

Amidst the chaos of the club, Joe and I, usually inseparable, find ourselves drifting apart. He tries to engage me in conversation, but I deflect his attempts, retreating into the crowd until he gives up. It's a pattern I've fallen into recently, avoiding him and burying my own feelings beneath a facade of indifference.

Summoning a sliver of courage, I approach Joe, a half-empty cosmo in hand, and fabricate an excuse to step away, handing him my drink. It's a fleeting moment of normalcy in a sea of chaos. As I hurry towards the bathroom, the cacophony of the club only intensifies, graffiti adorning the walls like a testament to its grungy atmosphere. It's a far cry from the upscale venues I'd usually frequent.

Inside the bathroom, the scene is equally dismal, the stench of disinfectant barely masking the underlying filth. With a sense of dread gnawing at my insides, I lift the toilet seat, my body convulsing with nausea. The sickness that has plagued me for days erupts once more, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within.

As I empty the contents of my stomach, the reality of my situation hits me like a freight train. It's been weeks since my period was due, and the signs are impossible to ignore: tender breasts, persistent vomiting, and the gnawing fear that I might be pregnant. Yet, even in the midst of this realization, I cling to the solace of intoxication, a temporary reprieve from the overwhelming uncertainty that looms over me.

You might be wondering why I'm drinking when I'm suspecting I could be pregnant. Well, to put it bluntly, I'm not in the mood for your unsolicited opinions. The thought of being pregnant by some man I can't t even remember is terrifying and drowning those fears in alcohol seems like the only way to cope in this moment. So, to those questioning my decisions, I have one thing to say: I don't care.

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11 Days later

The cool porcelain toilet offers little relief as I retch for what feels like the hundredth time today. Joe is holding my hair back while I cough and gag. The vomit burns my esophagus and I try to breathe.

I wipe my mouth weakly, the exhaustion of weeks of relentless vomiting weighing heavily on me. "I can't keep doing this," I mutter, sinking to the floor in defeat.

Joe's touch is gentle as he checks for signs of fever, his concern etched into the furrow of his brow. "You feel normal, Taylor," he reassures me.

"I don't know. Maybe it's food poisoning. That Thai definitely didn't sit right with either of us a few days ago." I try and find reason in the book, but Joe's somber expression tells me otherwise.

"I went to the chemist this morning. You don't have to take them, but you have the option." His words hang heavy in the air as he returns with a box of pregnancy tests. "I think I know how you feel about this," he murmurs, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "but just know it'll be okay."

"I'm not pregnant." I weakly protest, desperately clinging to the thin veil of denial, I feel a torrent of emotions crashing over me. The mere thought of being pregnant sends waves of panic and fear coursing through my veins. I try to convince myself that it's impossible, that there must be some other explanation for the symptoms I'm experiencing. But deep down, I know the truth. The timeline adds up, and the signs are undeniable, but there's one lingering problem. Joe and I hadn't had sex in this timeline because we were fighting so much. He wouldn't be the father.

"It's been two weeks of this, Taylor," he says gently, his voice filled with concern. "You don't have a fever, you can't keep anything down, and you aren't very secretive about that strawberry ice cream you're eating every day."

His words penetrate my defenses, shattering the fragile illusion I've been holding onto. I try to brush off his observations, to dismiss them as mere coincidences. But his unwavering gaze tells me that he sees right through my facade.

"I've never realized how good it was, I guess. I don't know," I mutter lamely, grasping for any excuse to avoid facing the truth.

"Taylor..." His voice is soft but firm, a gentle reminder that I can't hide from reality forever.

"I'm not strong enough." I murmur. The weight of it all comes crashing down, and I can no longer hold back the flood of emotions that threaten to consume me. Tears blur my vision as I struggle to breathe, my chest constricted with the overwhelming sense of dread and despair. It feels like I'm being swallowed whole by the darkness, suffocating under its crushing weight. The idea of being pregnant fills me with a profound sense of hopelessness, like a dark cloud looming over my future, threatening to obliterate everything I've ever known.

"Look at me, you are so strong. You've been doing difficult things since day one and survived all of them. And you talk about how badly you want to start a family one day and have children. If you think a positive pregnancy test will make me run, dear god you're so wrong Taylor. I wouldn't do that in a million years." Joe reassures me as he rubs my back.

As Joe's comforting words sink in, I realize that facing the truth is inevitable. I nod, acknowledging his reassurance, though the fear still clenches at my heart. Taking a deep breath, I muster the courage to confront what lies ahead.

"You're right," I manage to say, though my voice trembles with uncertainty. "I need to know."

Joe's hand on my back offers a steady anchor amidst the tumult of emotions swirling inside me. His belief in me, in us, gives me a glimmer of hope in the darkness of my fears.

I take a moment to compose myself, drawing in a deep, steadying breath to quell the fluttering of nerves in my chest. With a shaky hand, I reach out to accept the box from Joe, his touch a reassuring anchor in the storm of uncertainty.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice barely above a breathy murmur, but filled with gratitude for his steadfast support.

With trembling fingers, I carefully follow the instructions printed on the box, my mind racing with a million what-if scenarios. Each step feels like a monumental task, the weight of anticipation bearing down on me with each passing moment.

"Have you gotten the results yet?" Joe's voice echoes through the closed door, pulling me back to the present moment.

"Not yet," I reply, my voice strained with anticipation.

I pace around the bathroom as my heart pounds in my chest. Each beat echoes the sound of uncertainty. With trembling fingers, I pick up the pregnancy test, my hand shaking so violently that I struggle to read the result.

I glance down at the test and there's an unmistakable second line. "It's positive," I mutter, unable to comprehend it.

As I stand there, staring at the positive pregnancy test in disbelief, a whirlwind of emotions threatens to engulf me. The knot tightening in my throat makes it hard to breathe, and I feel a sense of unreality wash over me.

"It's positive," I whisper to myself again, the words feeling foreign on my lips.

But then, unexpectedly, a laugh bubbles up from within me, escaping in a strange mixture of disbelief and hysteria. It's a laugh born out of sheer disbelief at the absurdity of the situation I find myself in.

Pregnant with another man's child, while the love of my life stands just on the other side of the bathroom door, blissfully unaware of the bombshell waiting to shatter our world.

As the laughter fades, I'm left grappling with the enormity of the decision that lies ahead. What am I supposed to do now? How do I navigate this situation without destroying everything I hold dear?

With trembling hands, I set the pregnancy test down, feeling utterly lost and overwhelmed by the weight of it all. At that moment, the future stretches out before me, uncertain and terrifying, and I have no idea how to move forward.

Do I say it was negative and get an abortion behind his back? No, I can't do that. I don't care how this baby got in my uterus, I want to keep them. Do I lie and tell Joe he's the father? That's so morally wrong though. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Taylor, can I come in?" Joe asks as he cracks the door open.

"Yeah, you can." I sigh and sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"So, are we having champagne or strawberry ice cream tonight?" He asks.

"Strawberry ice cream." I sigh as I hand him the positive pregnancy test.

"You always wanted kids. Why are you so upset?" Joe asks grabbing my hand.

"The circumstances I guess. I always pictured when I got pregnant I'd be married and I'd have the perfect love story." In truth, I don't care about that. I just long for nothing more than for Joe to be the father of my child. If only he were, perhaps all my problems would disappear, and I could find the happiness I so desperately crave.

As Joe kisses my hand and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness. The weight of the situation is suffocating, and all I want to do is escape, to pretend that none of this is happening.

But just as I begin to despair, Joe returns with a bright smile on his face, his eyes filled with hope and anticipation. He kneels before me, a makeshift ring in hand, and pours out his heart.

"Taylor," he begins, his voice trembling slightly with emotion, "from the moment I met you, I knew that you were something special. You've brought so much joy and light into my life, and I can't imagine facing the world without you by my side."

He pauses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, to let the weight of his words sink in. My eyes are fixed on his, filled with love and anticipation, and he thinks that this is the right moment to take the next step.

"I know we've faced our fair share of challenges," he continues, his voice growing stronger with each word, "but through it all, you've been my rock, my guiding light. You've stood by me through thick and thin, and for that, I am eternally grateful."

With a deep breath, he takes the plunge, ready to lay his heart bare before her.

"Taylor Alison Swift," he says, my name rolling off his tongue like a prayer, "will you marry me?

A small piece of twine, fashioned into a makeshift ring. It's not much, but it symbolizes his love and commitment to me.

At that moment, as he looks at me with hopeful eyes, I realize that I can't bear to shatter his happiness, to destroy the love we've built together. With a heavy heart, I force a smile onto my lips and nod my head in acceptance.

"Yes, I'll marry you," I whisper, the words feeling hollow and insincere as they escape my lips.

As Joe slips the twine ring onto my finger and we share a tender kiss, I can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at my conscience. How can I marry him under false pretenses, knowing the truth that lies between us?

As he tenderly kissed my bare stomach, a mixture of emotions flooded through me. Although I longed for it to be our baby, the reality of the moment began to sink in. "We're going to be having a baby," he whispered with such excitement and love in his voice. The weight of his words hit me like a wave, and I couldn't help but wonder if the train wreck of infidelity even mattered in comparison to the impending arrival of our child.

"I'm having a baby? I'm actually having a baby?" I uttered in disbelief, my mind racing with thoughts of motherhood and the profound responsibility that awaited me.

With a reassuring smile, Joe enveloped me in his embrace. "Yeah, we're going to be parents," he confirmed, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and pride.

"I'm going to be a mom," I whispered, a radiant smile spreading across my face as my heart swelled with overwhelming joy. At that moment, all the pain and uncertainty faded into the background, replaced by the sheer excitement of knowing that I was going to have a baby. This is the best Christmas gift in the world.

—————Author's Note:

Rip Joe taking constant L's left and right. Should've agreed to go to her party ✌️

How excited do you think he'll be when he finds out he's not the father? How long until Taylor tells him?