The Sun Can Fuck Off

Four Weeks LaterDecember 13th; 2025Taylor Swift's Point of ViewI've had more enjoyable birthdays. Then again, I've had worse. But never have I had one where I'm four days from my due date, aching and exhausted, and can barely muster the energy to get out of bed. My body feels like it's been run over, and I just want this to be over with. The baby is kicking up a storm, and each jab feels like a little reminder that it's almost time. Almost. But not quite yet. I've already opened all my gifts but my favorite has to be the acoustic guitar. I wanted one my entire life but couldn't afford it.

I wince as another sharp jab hits me in the rib, and I let out a groan. "Honey, I need you to calm down in there," I say, rubbing my belly in a futile attempt to soothe both of us. "You're making Mommy miserable."

Just as I'm trying to find a more comfortable position, I hear the soft creak of the door. Zoë's tiny footsteps patter across the floor, and I look up to see her standing there, her face lit up with that trademark joy only a little kid can have. She raises her arms in the air with excitement, her eyes wide with glee.

"Happy birthday, Mommy!" she cheers, her voice high-pitched and full of innocence, the kind of enthusiasm that's contagious even when everything else feels like a weight on my chest.

I can't help but smile, even though I feel like I've been run ragged. "Thank you, princess," I reply softly, reaching my arms out to her, even though the effort makes my whole body ache. She's still so small, so pure, and I can't help but feel a little bit of relief that she's here, this sweet little being who has brought so much joy to my life.

She crawls up onto the bed beside me, her small head resting against my shoulder. Despite the exhaustion weighing on me, I hug her tightly, just trying to savor the moment.

"I made you a card," Zoë says proudly, holding out a crumpled piece of paper covered in scribbles and glitter, her face lit up with excitement.

"Did daddy help you?" I ask, smiling at the chaotic artwork in her hands.

"Mhm," she nods enthusiastically, clearly thrilled with her creation.

I take the card from her gently and open it, expecting more of the same colorful chaos. But inside, in neat handwriting, is a message that makes my heart skip a beat: "I love you more than my elephant. You're big like her and make me food."

I can't even stifle the laugh that escapes me. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach as the humor in her innocent words hits me all at once. The glittery scribbles suddenly feel like the most precious thing in the world.

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever read," I say through my laughter, wiping a tear from my eye as I look down at Zoë's beaming face. "Thank you, baby."

Her eyes light up even more, and she nods proudly. "I love you, Mommy."

The card may be simple, but in this moment, it's everything. It's the love of a child, raw and unfiltered, wrapped in glitter and heart. And it's perfect.

Travis walks in, carrying a tray with breakfast—pancakes, and a cup of juice—his face soft with a smile. "I asked her what she wanted me to write in the card..." he trails off, glancing at the card in my hands.

I look at him, still chuckling, and hold up the card. "Well, I think you got your answer," I say, my voice full of affection. "She loves me more than her elephant and thinks I'm big like her."

Travis laughs, a soft, knowing laugh, as he sets the tray down beside me. "I guess that's a good thing. Big like an elephant means strong, right?"

I nod, still grinning. "I hope so. And I make her food," I add, feeling the warmth of the moment settle around us like a blanket.

"Yeah, the most important thing," Travis agrees, sitting down beside me. He brushes a stray strand of hair from my face before looking down at the card again. "It's perfect. I think that's exactly what she wanted to say."

"She's got a way with words." I smile, glancing back at Zoë, who's watching us with curious eyes.

Travis leans in to kiss my cheek, the warmth of the moment settling over me like a breath of fresh air. "Happy birthday, Taylor," he murmurs softly. "I hope today's a little better."

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the last few weeks press down on me. "It already is."

Zoë lies sprawled across my lap, her head resting snugly against my rounded belly, her curls tickling my skin. She's been unusually quiet for the past few minutes, content to hum a little tune to herself while tracing random shapes on my arm with her finger. Suddenly, the baby kicks—a firm, unmistakable nudge—and Zoë sits bolt upright, her little face scrunching in surprise.

"Your tummy hit me!" she announces, pointing at my belly with an accusatory tone, as if it had acted on its own.

I chuckle, placing a hand over the spot where her head had been moments before. "That was the baby kicking, Zo Zo," I explain gently. "He's been doing it all morning."

Her eyes widen in amazement, and she crawls back toward me, her tiny hands pressing eagerly against my stomach. "Baby's in there? And he kicked? Like this?" she says, demonstrating a swift, playful kick with her own little foot.

I laugh, covering her hand with mine so she can feel the next movement. "Not quite like that, but close enough," I tease. "He's just saying hello."

Zoë's face lights up with excitement. "Hi, baby!" she chirps, leaning down so her mouth is almost touching my belly. "It's me, Zo Zo! I'm your big sister!"

As if on cue, the baby kicks again, and Zoë gasps, pulling back with wide eyes. "He talked to me!" she exclaims, looking up at me in awe.

I smile, brushing her curls back from her face. "He's telling you he's excited to meet you."

Zoë claps her hands, her joy infectious. "I'm gonna hold him when he comes out! And play with him! And show him my toys!"

I stroke her cheek, feeling a deep swell of love for this little girl who already has so much enthusiasm for her new sibling. "You're going to be the best big sister, Zo Zo. He's so lucky to have you."

Zoë beams at the praise and then lays her head back on my belly, her small fingers gently patting it. "Kick again, baby," she whispers. "I'm ready this time."

I lean back against the pillows, smiling at the sweetness of the moment, as the baby obliges with another soft nudge. Zoë giggles, her joy filling the room, and I feel nothing but gratitude for the love surrounding me.

I look down at the pancakes Travis brought for me, and a wave of emotion hits me so unexpectedly that my chest tightens. They smell amazing—sweet, warm, golden brown. But I can't hold it back. The tears start welling up, blurring my vision. I blink rapidly, trying to push them away, but they spill over anyway.

"What's wrong?" Travis asks, his voice full of concern as he kneels beside the bed, looking at me with wide eyes.

"They're not... they're not round," I choke out, my voice barely more than a whisper, but it feels like the words are a dam breaking.

"The pancakes?" He repeats, his brows furrowed in confusion, glancing down at the plate with the uneven, slightly jagged edges.

I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but it feels like the tears just keep coming. "They're supposed to be round, like normal pancakes," I say, my voice cracking, "Why couldn't you just make them... normal?"

Travis stares at the pancakes for a second, as if expecting them to magically transform into perfect circles. "You're crying about pancakes not being round?" he asks softly, not trying to be dismissive but genuinely puzzled by the whole thing.

I nod again, sniffling, my hands wiping furiously at my eyes as I try to steady my breath. "I just wanted them to be... perfect today. It's my birthday, and I—" I break off, squeezing my eyes shut because I can't even finish the sentence without the sobs coming back full force.

Travis sighs, a small chuckle escaping his lips, but it's warm and understanding, not mocking. He gently reaches out to wipe a tear from my cheek, then pulls me into a soft hug, his arms comforting around me as he murmurs, "It's okay, Tay. I'll make sure the pancakes are round next year, alright? We'll make it perfect then."

I burrow into his chest, feeling like an emotional wreck, but I can't help it. The hormones, the exhaustion, and the pressure of wanting everything to feel just right today—it all crashes down on me over some damn pancakes. "I'm sorry," I say, my voice muffled against him. "I know it's silly."

He chuckles, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. "It's not silly. You're carrying our baby, Tay. You deserve everything to be perfect. And next time? Round pancakes, I swear."

I take a shaky breath, pulling away just enough to look up at him, and manage a small smile through my tears. "Next time. Round pancakes. Perfect."

"Perfect," he agrees, giving me a soft kiss on the forehead before settling the plate of very imperfect pancakes back on the nightstand.

"Thank you," I say quietly, still sniffling, but feeling just a little bit lighter.

Then I start to cry again. Crying is a constant now, like some uncontrollable tide that sweeps over me at the most unexpected moments. I don't even know why I'm crying this time, just that the tears won't stop coming.

"Did the kitten commercial come back on?" Travis asks, his voice a mix of concern and amusement, as if he's starting to recognize the pattern.

"Yes," I reply through my sniffles, unable to catch my breath. "The kittens are so cute. And they need homes. They need love, Travis. Why can't we save them all?"

Travis laughs softly, though it's laced with a touch of tenderness. "I know, babe, I know. But we can't adopt every kitten in the world. The world would be overrun with kittens."

"But they need homes!" I protest, my voice cracking. "They're just so tiny and helpless and..." I dissolve into more tears, my chest heaving with the weight of it all.

Travis leans over, wrapping his arm around me as I rest my head on his shoulder. "You're right. They're cute. But you're my priority right now. And Zoë, and the baby." He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head. "You don't have to save all the kittens. Just take care of yourself. I'll save the kittens for you, okay?"

I nod, my breathing finally starting to slow down, though my eyes are still watery. "I just want them to be okay. And I want everything to be okay... with us. And the baby."

"I know, Taylor. Everything's going to be fine. And the kittens will get homes... just not all of them at once."

I manage a weak laugh through my tears, wiping my eyes. "You're right. I guess the world doesn't need me adopting a hundred kittens."

"No," he says with a grin.

"I'm so tired. I just want him to be here already." I rub my stomach absently, feeling the weight of it and wondering how it's gotten this big. It feels like I've been pregnant forever, like the days stretch on endlessly.

Travis places a gentle hand on my back, rubbing it in slow circles. "He'll be here any day now. Just a little longer, and we'll have him here." His voice is calm, soothing, like he's trying to reassure both me and himself at the same time.

I lean into him, grateful for his steady presence. "It feels like he's never going to come. Every little ache and twinge makes me think today's the day, and then it's just... another day."

"You're doing great," he says, his voice warm and full of conviction. "You've been carrying him for so long, you're almost there. Just a little more patience. I know it's hard, but we'll get through it."

I sigh, my exhaustion weighing heavily on me. "I just don't know if I can. I feel like I've been holding my breath for so long, waiting for the moment when everything changes." I glance down at my stomach again, feeling the life inside me move and kick. "I just want to meet him. I want to see his face."

"I know you do," Travis says softly, his hand resting on my stomach now, as if he can feel the baby's movements too. "And I'm right here, Tay. I'm with you, every step of the way."

I close my eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over me. There's so much uncertainty, so much waiting, but at least I'm not alone in it. I open my eyes and give him a tired smile. "Thanks for being here."

"Always," he replies, kissing the top of my head. "You're almost there, just a little longer. And then we'll have our baby, our whole family together."

I nod, taking a deep breath. Just a little longer. The thought is both comforting and overwhelming, but I hold onto it. I can do this. I can wait just a little longer.

I look to my bedside and see the photo of me on the nightstand, a memory from another time. It's an old one, but it feels like a lifetime ago. In just a few days, I'll be back in the hospital—this time holding my baby in my arms. A new chapter. A new life.

"A quarter for your thoughts?" Travis says, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

I glance over at him, half-smiling. "The saying is a penny for your thoughts, you know."

He shrugs with a playful grin. "Well, your thoughts are so amazing that I think people should have to pay more for them." He leans back against the pillows, clearly amused by his own joke.

I shake my head but can't help the small laugh that escapes me. "You're ridiculous."

His smile fades slightly, and he watches me with more intent, his gaze softening. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

I exhale slowly, letting the weight of it all settle in my chest. "It's my parents. Scott and Andrea."

"What about them?" Travis asks, his voice quieter now, concerned.

I pause for a moment, unsure how to even begin. "I shouldn't have sent them away. I was mad, I was hurt, but I had a shot at a real relationship with them. To get to know them. And I just... I shut it down." I sigh, feeling the ache in my chest. "I'm about to become a mom again, and I want this—my family—to be different. I want my kids to know their grandparents, but now I don't even know where to start with that. I've pushed them away, I don't know if there's any coming back from it."

Travis doesn't respond immediately. He just watches me with a thoughtful expression, like he's trying to find the right words. Finally, he speaks, his voice calm and steady. "People screw up, Taylor. You're not perfect, and neither are they. But you can't change the past. You can only move forward. If you want to try, you'll do it when the time is right. And if not, that's okay too."

I swallow hard, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. "I just... I want to make the right choice for my kids. I don't want them to feel the way I did growing up, not knowing where they fit in. I want to be better for them."

"You are," Travis says softly, his hand reaching out to take mine. "You're already doing better. You've come a long way, Taylor. And you're about to give Zoë and the new baby something that you didn't have—real love, real connection. Whatever happens with your parents, you're already giving your kids the family they deserve."

I squeeze his hand, grateful for his support. "I hope so. I really do."

—————Author's Note:

Idk what to have for dinner