I'm Not Insane...That's a Lie

Two Weeks LaterJanuary 9th; 2026Taylor Swift's Point of ViewWant to know something nice about being rich? Night nannies. I get to sleep soundly through the night while someone else tends to my baby. At first, I was uncomfortable with the idea—it felt strange to hand off such an intimate part of parenting. But then I realized, at 2 a.m., when Daniel is screaming, and I can't even keep my eyes open, I'm not going to care who's doing it, as long as it's getting done.

Travis isn't working on any movies right now, which means he gets to be home with us full-time. His management team has even organized a sort of paternity leave for him—fewer meetings, fewer phone calls. It feels like a blessing to have this time together as a family.

In other news, my parents and brother came by last week. It was... unexpected, to say the least. I didn't know how it would go, but I just wanted to see what kind of relationship they wanted with me, if any. To my surprise, Zoë immediately latched onto Austin, her new uncle, dragging him into playtime like they'd known each other forever. Watching them together gave me hope. I want this to work. I want to know my parents, to connect with my bloodline in a way I never thought possible.

That said, Travis will always be my real family—the one who built this life with me, who was there when no one else was. But maybe there's room for both.

Right now, Travis and I are cuddled on the couch, watching The Lion King with Zoë nestled between us. She's clutching her beloved elephant stuffed animal, wide-eyed at the screen. It's one of those moments where everything feels calm and perfect, like the world paused just for us.

Then, through the baby monitor, I hear soft noises, a rustling followed by the unmistakable sound of Daniel waking up. His little cries start, hesitant at first but growing louder. I pick up the monitor and glance at the screen, seeing him squirm in his bassinet.

"The baby's up," I say, setting the monitor down.

"I'll go," Travis offers, already standing up. He leans down to kiss the top of my head. "You need to rest."

I smile up at him, grateful as always, and watch as he heads upstairs to tend to Daniel.

Zoë glances up at me, tilting her head in curiosity. "Why does baby cry so much?" she asks, her little shoulders shrugging dramatically.

I chuckle softly and brush a hand over her curls. "He's just trying to tell us something is wrong, sweetheart. When he cries, it usually means he's hungry or needs a diaper change."

Zoë looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding seriously. "Maybe he just needs an elephant," she decides, squeezing hers tighter.

I laugh and pull her into a hug. "You're probably right, Zo Zo. Maybe he does."

"You're still fat," Zoë announces matter-of-factly, poking at my stomach with one tiny finger. "Why?"

I pause mid-sip of my tea, trying not to laugh. "Zo Zo," I say, placing my cup down. "You can't call people fat. It's rude."

Her big eyes widen in realization, and she looks guilty—for all of five seconds. "Sorry," she mumbles, her bottom lip jutting out in a perfect little pout.

I smile softly and pull her closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's okay, sweetie. But listen, it takes a few months for the baby bump to go away after having a baby. So, Mommy's going to be a little bit 'fat,' as you call it, for a while longer."

She stares at my stomach, her face scrunched in thought, then nods solemnly. "So, like...a long time?"

I can't help but laugh this time, shaking my head. "Yes, like a few months, honey. But it's not about being fat—it's about giving my body time to heal. Growing a baby is a lot of work."

Zoë pokes my stomach again, this time more gently, then leans her cheek against me. "Okay. But you're still squishy. I like squishy."

I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. "Thanks, Zo Zo. I'll take that as a compliment."

Travis walks into the room with little Daniel nestled snugly in his arms, his tiny coos filling the space. I look up from the couch as Travis heads over and sits down beside me, cradling Daniel like he's the most precious thing in the world—which, to us, he is.

"I'm going to go hop on a call," Travis says, leaning back for a moment. "Can you hold down the fort for an hour?"

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. "I did it for two years by myself. I think I can handle an hour."

"Ouch," he says, clutching his chest like my words physically wounded him. "Man, that hurt."

We've reached a point where we can joke about the time he wasn't around. A little dark humor to lighten the weight of what happened. It's cathartic in a weird way. Honestly, we're kind of depressing people, but it works for us.

Travis carefully hands Daniel over, and the baby makes a few soft squeaking sounds before settling against me, his tiny body warm and content in my arms. "Oh, hello, nugget," I coo, brushing a finger gently across his cheek.

Travis stands and stretches, giving me a wink. "Good luck, babe. Don't let them gang up on you."

"I've got this," I call back as he heads out.

Zoë peeks up from her coloring book nearby and points at Daniel. "He's still squishy too."

I laugh, adjusting the baby in my arms. "Yeah, he is, Zo Zo. Just like Mommy."

"He cries too much. Is he broken?" Zoë asks, her nose scrunching up in confusion as she glances at Daniel.

I bite back a laugh, adjusting him in my arms. "No, sweetie, he's not broken. That's just what babies do."

Zoë tilts her head, clearly unimpressed by my answer. "I didn't cry that much when I was a baby."

"Oh, yes, you did," I say with a knowing smile. "You cried all the time. You just don't remember."

Her eyes widen like I just told her the most scandalous secret. "I did?"

"Yup." I nod. "And guess what? Mommy still loved you so much, just like I love Daniel now."

Zoë pouts for a second before her face softens. "Okay. But tell him to cry quieter."

I chuckle, brushing a hand over her hair. "I'll see what I can do, kiddo."

"Did I sleep in a bas-a-bassinet thing like baby?" Zoë asks, her small voice breaking through my thoughts as she gazes at Daniel nestled peacefully in my arms. Her wide eyes are full of curiosity, and she tilts her head, waiting for an answer.

The question hits me harder than I expect. My smile falters as my mind drifts back to those early days, three years ago. Poor Zo Zo. She wasn't sleeping in a bassinet back then. I couldn't afford one. She was sleeping in one of my dresser drawers.

I can still picture it so clearly—the top drawer of my old, chipped dresser, emptied out and lined with every soft blanket and pillow I could find. I'd placed her in there so carefully, checking and re-checking to make sure it was as safe as I could make it. I'd sit by her side for hours, watching her tiny chest rise and fall, too scared to sleep in case something happened. That drawer held my whole world, and I poured everything I had into making sure she was okay, even if I had nothing else to give.

I blink, forcing the memory away. Zoë's still staring at me, waiting for an answer, her innocent question hanging in the air.

"Yes, honey," I say, my voice soft but steady. "You slept in a bassinet as well."

Zoë nods, her curls bouncing as she considers this. "Was it pink?" she asks, her tone hopeful and a little demanding, like the answer matters more than anything else in the world.

I can't help but laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No, it wasn't pink, but you were still my little princess."

Zoë smiles at that, satisfied, and her attention shifts back to Daniel. She reaches out to touch his tiny hand, her expression a mix of fascination and pride.

Daniel's tiny hand reaches out, his fingers curling instinctively around Zoë's outstretched ones. The moment his delicate grasp closes on hers, Zoë's eyes light up with pure delight. She lets out a high-pitched giggle, her excitement spilling over like a bubbling fountain.

"He's holding my hand, Mommy!" she exclaims, her voice filled with wonder as if Daniel's simple reflex is the most magical thing she's ever experienced.

I watch the scene unfold, my heart swelling as I take in the sight of my two children bonding for the first time. Zoë's chubby little fingers look so large next to Daniel's impossibly tiny hand, and yet there's something so perfect about the way they fit together.

"He likes you already, Zo Zo," I say softly, smiling down at them.

Zoë looks up at me with wide eyes, her giggles softening into a quieter, more thoughtful smile. "I think he's saying he loves me," she whispers, her free hand gently brushing a lock of her hair out of her face.

I blink back the unexpected sting of tears. "He does, honey. He definitely does."

Zoë wiggles her fingers gently in Daniel's grasp, careful not to let go, as if she understands just how fragile he is. "I'm his big sister. I have to teach him everything."

"Yes, you do," I reply, my voice catching a little.

She looks back down at Daniel, her expression suddenly serious. "Don't worry. I'll show you how to play with elephants and color outside the lines. And I'll let you have some cakes. Sometimes."

I laugh softly, running my hand over her hair. "That sounds like a wonderful plan, Zo Zo."

Daniel, as if sensing the importance of the moment, lets out a soft coo, his tiny hand still gripping Zoë's like he never wants to let go.

Zoë leans in closer, her face almost nose-to-nose with Daniel's. Her little hand stays steady, letting him hold on tight, and she whispers to him like she's sharing a secret meant only for them.

"Okay, baby, listen. Mommy says you cry a lot, but I don't mind. I'll sing to you when you're sad, okay? But not my elephant song. That's my song."

Daniel's eyelids flutter, his tiny mouth forming an "O" as if he's trying to respond. Zoë gasps, pulling back slightly but keeping her hand in his. "Mommy! He's talking to me!"

I smile, cradling Daniel a little closer but not disturbing their connection. "Not quite yet, sweetheart. He's just learning. But someday he'll talk to you, and I'm sure he'll have lots to say."

Zoë tilts her head, considering this. "Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," I say, feigning deep thought. "Maybe he'll tell you how much he loves noodles, or how he likes elephants, or how lucky he feels to have the best big sister in the world."

Her face lights up at that, and she beams at Daniel. "Did you hear that, baby? I'm the best big sister ever. Mommy said so."

Daniel squirms in my arms, letting out a soft grunt, and Zoë giggles again. "See? He agrees."

Travis walks back into the room, drying his hands on a towel. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of Zoë and Daniel's tiny connection. His smile spreads slowly, softening his whole face. "What's going on in here?"

"Daniel's holding my hand!" Zoë exclaims proudly, as if it's the biggest news of the day.

"Is that right?" Travis leans down, his broad hand resting gently on Zoë's shoulder. "Looks like you two are already best buddies."

Zoë nods with the confidence only a three-year-old can muster. "I'm gonna teach him everything, Daddy. And he's gonna listen, 'cause I'm his big sister."

Travis chuckles, brushing a hand over her hair. "I don't doubt that for a second, Zo Zo."

Daniel lets out a tiny yawn, his grip on Zoë's fingers loosening as his eyelids droop. Zoë watches him intently, whispering, "He's getting sleepy. I think I'm his favorite person."

I laugh softly, adjusting Daniel in my arms. "You might be right about that."

Zoë looks up at me, her expression proud and serious all at once. "I'm gonna take care of him forever, Mommy. I promise."

Tears prick at my eyes again, and I nod. "I know you will, baby. I know you will."

"You're going to be amazing, Zo Zo," Travis says, ruffling her hair with a soft smile. She beams up at him before darting over to her coloring book, her tiny footsteps padding across the living room floor. A moment later, she's on the floor, aggressively scribbling with a green crayon like she's on a mission.

I glance back at Travis, his hand still resting on his phone, but it's clenched so tightly I can see the strain in his knuckles. Something's wrong. "That was a short call," I say casually, though my voice tightens. "You said it was going to take an hour."

Travis doesn't meet my eyes. "It wasn't the call I was expecting," he mutters.

A chill runs through me. "Who called?" I press, sitting up straighter.

"It's not important," he says, his tone clipped, already trying to shut the conversation down.

I stare at him, my heart beating faster. "Travis, what is it?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly debating whether to tell me. After a long pause, he finally says, "Someone called. I didn't recognize the number."

"And?" I ask, my voice firmer now, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.

"They didn't even give me a chance to say hello," he says, looking down at the floor. "They just... started talking."

"What did they say?" I demand, my stomach twisting into knots.

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he's not going to answer. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low and strained. "They said I needed to 'watch my back.' That I've got something they want, and if I don't cooperate, I'll regret it."

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. "What? Travis, that's not nothing! Who the hell would—"

"I don't know," he interrupts, his frustration bubbling over. "They didn't say who they were. They just hung up after that."

"Have they called before?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He hesitates, and that's all the answer I need. "Travis," I whisper, my voice trembling. "How long has this been going on?"

"Just a few weeks," he admits reluctantly. "I didn't want to worry you. It's probably nothing, just some idiot trying to mess with me."

I shake my head, the pit in my stomach growing deeper. "You don't know that. What if it's not nothing? What if—" I glance over at Zoë, who's still happily coloring, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few feet away. "What if it's about us? The kids?"

"It's not," he insists, though the worry in his eyes betrays him. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you or the kids."

—————Author's Note:

Daniel and Zo Zo are so 🥰

Anyways, I'm writing a sequel for dis book