call it what you want | Taylor Swift X Travis Kelce

Chapter 31

I stormed into the meeting room, my emotions running wild, fueled by a mix of pain, frustration, and disbelief. The man, presumably the head of events, sat at the head of the table, his expression stern, unmoved by the torrent of emotions that surged through me.

"I am not getting on stage!" My voice echoed off the walls, charged with anger and desperation. The tears streamed down my face, a testament to the agony and sorrow I felt within.

"It is in your contract," he reiterated, his tone unwavering, almost mechanical. It was the only defense he seemed to have in this tense standoff.

"A girl died! A girl fucking died!" I screamed, the words laced with raw emotion, a desperate plea for understanding and empathy. My whole being shook with the weight of the tragedy, the pain of that loss cutting through my soul.

"I'm aware. We are willing to adjust our rules for your other two shows, but we will not be moving the show," he finally relented, his voice devoid of any empathy, focusing solely on the contractual obligations.

The room felt suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension and the gravity of the situation. My heart raced with a mix of anger and helplessness. How could they be so callous in the face of such tragedy? I felt a surge of frustration at the lack of compassion and understanding from those in charge.

My emotions were a tumultuous storm, raging inside me. The numbness of disbelief battled against the fiery rage and overwhelming grief. All I wanted was to honor the memory of the fan who lost her life, to respect her and her loved ones, but the bureaucracy and inflexibility I faced seemed insurmountable.

As we exited the meeting room, the weight of the confrontation settled heavily on my shoulders. Tears welled up in my eyes, a mix of frustration and sorrow mingling within me. Tree, my stalwart confidante and manager, stepped closer, her voice a soothing presence amidst the chaos.

"Tay, you know better than anyone not to do that," she said, her tone carrying a blend of caution and concern.

"I'll give them as much money as they want, but I am not getting on that stage," I insisted firmly, my voice trembling with a mix of determination and anguish. My heart ached at the thought of going against everything I believed in, especially in the wake of such a tragedy.

"I don't blame you, my love, but leave it to me to sort this," Tree reassured me, enveloping me in a comforting embrace.

"Please do," I pleaded softly, my voice breaking. With each step toward the exit, my resolve wavered, torn between my principles and the seemingly immovable bureaucracy.

"Go to your hotel and lay low. I will send some emails," Tree advised, her voice filled with a blend of determination and protective concern. Her assurance was a glimmer of hope in the midst of this storm, and I clung to it, needing to believe that there was a way to navigate this situation with integrity and compassion. With a heavy heart, I nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of uncertainty and a longing for resolution as I made my way out of the building.

I made my way to the hotel, the events of the day replaying in my mind like a relentless storm. I needed solace, a moment of respite from the chaos that engulfed me.

I retreated to the quiet of my room, seeking refuge in the familiar confines. Every glance at my phone brought a fresh wave of anxiety. It buzzed incessantly with messages, each one a reminder of the turbulence outside these four walls.

I tried to distract myself, flipping through pages of a book I'd brought along, but the words blurred into an indistinguishable mess. My mind wandered, consumed by the lingering images from the meeting and the haunting memory of the recent tragedy.

The minutes stretched into hours, and with each tick of the clock, the anticipation grew. I wanted resolution, a solution to this unbearable situation. Yet, deep down, I knew that sometimes resolutions took time.

I received a text from Tree, breaking the deafening silence. "Working on it. Hang tight, Tay. We'll figure this out."

The message offered a glimmer of hope, a faint assurance that amidst the chaos, there were efforts being made to untangle this mess. Yet, the uncertainty gnawed at my core, a relentless ache in the pit of my stomach.

I stared out of the window, the city lights blinking in the distance, a comforting yet distant sight. The room felt suffocating, each breath a struggle against the weight of the situation. I longed for solace, a moment of tranquility amid this storm.

In the quiet of that hotel room, I found myself in a suspended state, caught between despair and hope, waiting for a resolution that seemed elusive. The minutes passed slowly, each one an eternity, as I clung to the fragile threads of patience, hoping for a breakthrough.

I stared at my phone, my heart racing as the screen lit up with a message from Tree. It was three hours before the scheduled showtime, and I knew this text held crucial information.

" the show's postponed to Monday."

The words hit me like a sudden downpour, a mix of relief and disbelief flooding my senses. Monday? It felt both distant and incredibly close, a reprieve wrapped in uncertainty.

My mind raced, trying to process the implications. Postponed. That single word carried a weight that lifted a burden off my shoulders and yet added a new layer of complexity to an already tumultuous situation.

Relief washed over me as I absorbed the news. Monday meant a few days to recalibrate, to gather my thoughts, and to hopefully ensure a safer environment for everyone involved. But at the same time, the uncertainty of what led to this decision gnawed at my mind.

I stared at the text, contemplating the implications, the sudden shift in plans. I could almost hear the collective gasp of the fans, the hurried shuffle of rearranging schedules, the chaos behind the scenes.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, the weight of my reply matching the gravity of the situation.

"Thanks for letting me know. Are people okay?"

Even with the show postponed, my concern remained with the safety of those involved, the well-being of the fans, and the team who worked tirelessly behind the scenes.

The room suddenly felt quieter, the tension from the impending show release, replaced by a strange mix of relief, concern, and an overwhelming sense of the unknown.

Fingertips trembling, I navigated through my contacts, stopping at Travis's name. With each tap on the screen, the weight of the message I had to send intensified. Tears welled up, blurring the letters on the screen as I typed my apology.

Tay: I am so sorry, but I've had to move the show to Monday. I won't make it to the game or home for Thanksgiving. I wish I didn't have to miss them. I love you so much. Maybe we can celebrate when I get home?

The tears fell freely as I hit send, each drop marking the weight of my absence from moments I longed to share. Travis's response, a mixture of understanding and warmth, offered a tiny solace amidst the flood of emotions.

Trav: It's Okay love, I will call you when I am out of practice.

The following days blurred together in a haze of tears and restless sleep. Every conversation with Travis seemed to end with my sobs or my drifting into a fitful slumber. Yet, he remained a steady presence, a comforting voice on the other end of the line.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions, the shows in Brazil became more of a blur than normal , a routine I mechanically followed while my mind remained fixated on the distance between Travis and me, the missed moments, and the yearning to be together.