Cupid Screwed Up

One Month LaterJanuary 11th; 2022Taylor Swift's Point of ViewThe room is dimly lit by the soft glow of a streetlamp outside the window, casting streaks of light across the bed. I'm curled into Travis's chest, his arm wrapped protectively around me. Normally, this would be my favorite part of the day—when the world quiets, and it's just us. But tonight, the weight of exhaustion and the gnawing anxiety in my stomach overshadow everything else.

I worked a double shift at the diner, my feet aching from the endless hours on them. Travis had an audition earlier—his third one this month—alongside his shifts at the grocery store and gym. He smells faintly of sweat and cologne, a mixture that usually makes me smile. But tonight, it only reminds me how hard we're both pushing ourselves to get by.

I feel nauseous, my stomach churning as if anxiety has taken a physical form. The thought that my uterus might now be occupied, potentially for the next eight months, feels surreal. It's a mix of terror and something I can't quite name, a hope I'm too scared to admit.

As the nausea crescendos, I can't take it anymore. My chest tightens, and the heat from the blankets feels suffocating. I throw them off and bolt from the bed, the cool air biting against my skin as I rush to the bathroom.

The fluorescent light flickers to life as I drop to my knees in front of the toilet. My body shudders as I gag, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. Travis is behind me in seconds, his groggy voice filled with concern. "Taylor? What's wrong?"

I can't answer; my body is too busy trying to expel what feels like every ounce of anxiety coursing through me. Travis holds my hair back, his hand rubbing my back in slow circles as I try to breathe through the pain. The acid stings my throat, and I feel like I'm suffocating on nothing.

"It's okay, you're okay. I'm here," he says softly, his voice steady as I dry heave again. By now, it's just bile. My body is desperately trying to get rid of something that isn't even there.

I sit back against the bathroom wall, covering my face with my hands. I finally catch my breath, but I feel like I've been through hell. My eyes are red, tears streaking down my cheeks, and I feel like I'm about to collapse from exhaustion.

"Are you okay? Want some water?" Travis asks, his voice gentle as he presses a cool washcloth to my forehead.

I glance up at him, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm late, Travis."

"Late? Late for what?" he asks, his voice shaky with confusion.

"I'm two weeks late," I confess, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. "I don't think the Plan B worked."

"You mean...we wasted $53?" he asks, his voice full of disbelief.

"Travis, I... I'm scared. I think this is morning sickness," I admit, my voice shaky with fear.

"It's not," he says quickly, though the hesitation in his voice makes it sound more like a guess than a fact.

"My boobs hurt, and I've been peeing like ten times a day," I counter, hoping he'll understand.

"Okay? Maybe you have breast cancer," he says, trying to sound lighthearted, though it doesn't quite land.

"You'd rather me have cancer than be pregnant?" I reply, my voice a little sharper than I mean it to be. "You realize one of those is very depressing, right?"

"Well, if you have cancer, at least you're not pregnant!" Travis defends, clearly grasping at anything to avoid the real issue.

"I'd much rather be pregnant than have cancer!" I exclaim, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

"Okay, valid," he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Maybe this doesn't have to be a bad thing, Travis. We love each other. We want to get married, we want to start a family... why does it matter when?"

He looks at me, his expression tense. "Because we're broke! I still have things I want to do. I don't want to be a father right now. We're living off scraps and food stamps." His voice cracks, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I know, but that doesn't mean we can't figure it out," I say, my voice soft but determined.

He looks at me, his eyes filled with frustration and fear. "I... I want to be big. I want to be a star. This would crush us, Taylor." His words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his dreams and the reality of our situation colliding.

I reach out, placing a hand on his arm, trying to offer some comfort. "I get it, Travis. I really do. But we can still make it work. We don't have to have it all figured out right now. We can build a future together, no matter what."

He shakes his head, looking down at the floor, his voice quiet. "I don't want to put everything on hold for this. You deserve better than that."

"Better than what? A family? A life together? We can still chase our dreams, Travis. You're still going to be a star. But if we have a baby, we'll be doing it together. You don't have to do it alone."

"We paid for the Plan B. It should have worked. Let's just... take a pregnancy test," Travis suggests, his voice tinged with frustration.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Plan B only works to delay ovulation. If I was already ovulating, then it would have been useless."

Travis runs a hand through his hair, clearly processing the information. "So, we're not out of the woods yet?"

I shake my head. "No, but we can at least confirm if I'm pregnant before we go any further."

He nods slowly, a mix of concern and relief crossing his face. "Alright. Let's do it."

I push myself off the bathroom floor, still feeling shaky. Travis stands and offers me his hand. I take it, grateful for the support.

"Do you... have a test?" he asks hesitantly.

I shake my head. "No, but we can run to the pharmacy again. Let's just hope we don't have to dump out my purse for this one."

He chuckles nervously, trying to lighten the mood. "Good point. I'll grab my wallet—hopefully, it doesn't betray us again."

We both head to the door, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between us. As we walk down the street toward the pharmacy, neither of us says much. The night air is cool, and I find myself glancing at him, wondering if he's as terrified as I am.

Inside the pharmacy, I head straight for the aisle where the pregnancy tests are. I grab a box with trembling hands and glance at the price. "Eight bucks. At least it's not fifty," I mutter.

Travis pulls out his card and swipes it at the register. This time, it goes through. We exchange a glance—half-relief, half-anxiety—and head home, the small box feeling like it weighs a ton in my hands.

Back in the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the tub, staring at the instructions while Travis paces outside the door. "Okay," I whisper to myself, steeling my nerves. "Let's get this over with."

I open the box with shaky hands, pulling out the test and reading the instructions three times, even though they're straightforward. Pee on the stick, wait three minutes. Simple, but it feels monumental.

"Are you okay in there?" Travis calls through the door.

"As okay as I can be," I reply, my voice cracking slightly. I take a deep breath, do what I need to do, and set the test on the counter. The little screen feels like it's taunting me, the empty space where an answer will soon appear making my heart race.

"Three minutes," I mutter to myself. I wash my hands and open the door. "Now we wait."

Travis is sitting on the floor just outside the bathroom, his knees pulled to his chest. He looks up at me, his face a mixture of worry and support. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to jump out of my skin," I admit, sitting down next to him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.

"It's going to be okay," he says softly. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out."

"Promise?" I whisper.

"Promise," he replies, but there's a tremor in his voice that matches the fear in my chest.

The weight of the moment presses on me as I shift uncomfortably. My arms are crossed tightly over my chest, a barrier against the storm of emotions threatening to erupt. I glance at Travis, who's pacing the narrow space in front of me, his hands fidgeting as he avoids my gaze.

"What if it's positive?" I ask, my voice quieter this time but still tense. "I mean, we don't have the money."

He stops pacing and finally looks at me. "Abortion?" His tone is cautious, like he's testing the waters.

I blink at him, stunned. "We don't even have the money for an abortion," I snap, heat rising in my cheeks. "Even if I wanted to do that—which I don't."

His face scrunches in confusion, and he stammers, "If you wanted to—wait, are you saying... you want to keep this baby?"

I let out a bitter laugh, the tension in my chest tightening further. "This very hypothetical baby?" I throw back at him. "Yeah, I guess we'll find out in, what, thirty seconds?"

He stares at me, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. Finally, he stammers, "But if it's positive, you're... keeping it? Were we not on the same page about this?"

I take a step closer to him, my voice firm but trembling slightly. "Travis, if it's positive, I'm keeping the baby. I thought you understood that. Did you think I wouldn't?"

He freezes, his lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw tightens as his eyes dart around the room, like he's trying to find the answer on the walls. "I..." he begins, but his words trail off, leaving the air between us heavy and unresolved.

The silence feels unbearable. I uncross my arms, letting them drop to my sides, but the tension doesn't leave. "Travis, say something," I plead, my voice breaking.

The shrill beep of the timer pierces the silence, snapping us both out of our thoughts. My stomach twists as we turn toward the counter where the test sits like a ticking bomb. I glance at Travis, who's frozen in place, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Do... do we look now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean, I guess," he replies, his tone flat, like he's bracing for impact.

The air feels thick, every step toward the counter slow and deliberate. My hands tremble as I pick up the test, my breath catching in my throat. I stare at the result, my mind racing as the reality sinks in. There's no mistaking it—a bold, second line stares back at me.

I don't know how long I stand there, frozen, but the silence is deafening. Finally, I force myself to turn around, holding the test up for Travis to see. "It's positive," I say, my voice cracking.

—————Author's Note

Sorry short chapter ikkkk