Unfaithful

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One Week Later
June 19th; 2026
Taylor Swift's Point of View
As I approach my third trimester, Travis and I decided to take a much-needed break and go on a babymoon. To make it happen, Viola has been staying with Donna for the last four days while we lose ourselves in the beautiful city of Paris. We thought it would be the perfect way to make up for the time we missed out on when Travis got injured. Although Paris is known as the city of love, for me, it's the city of croissants. I can't help but stop at every other bakery to satisfy my cravings for delicious pastries. Paris has an estimated 30,000 bakeries, and Ducky loves carbs and croissants.
We've been trying to keep a low profile by wearing disguises as we explore the city's breathtaking sights. Navigating the city incognito has proven successful, yet beneath the veneer of anonymity, a persistent undercurrent of fear lingers—a poignant reminder of the sacrifices entwined with fame and fortune. As our stay here comes to an end, my excitement grows as I anticipate what romantic surprise Travis has planned for us tonight.

Currently, Travis and I are lying next to each other in bed completely bare. Without Viola, we've taken advantage of the fact we can have sex whenever we feel like it. My libido has not been gentle with me but that doesn't mean I can't have fun with it.

"What do you want to do today, my love?" Travis asks in the intimate space. As his gentle touch traces patterns on my stomach, the anticipation for Ducky's arrival grows.

"No big over-the-top surprise planned?" I pick up one of his hands and intertwine my fingers with his, creating a tender connection.

"We have plenty of time." He replies kissing the top of my hand. The warm sensations of love that Paris had brought to us that I wish I cherished more.

"I'd love to take a stroll in the park and enjoy a picnic. Just picture me and you, the fragrance of blooming flowers but mostly croissants and a touch of jam." I reach over to the bedside and take a bite of my half-eaten stale croissant from yesterday. I don't care, it's still delicious to me.

"Sounds perfect." He nuzzles up and lays another kiss on my neck.

"Travis, are you sure you're okay with Ducky being our last?" I ask while the sun beams down on us in the most picture-perfect way possible.

"I've always dreamed of a big family but it's your body and I'm not going to force you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Your happiness is my priority." The way he emphasizes how important it is we make decisions together always feels intimate and sincere. It makes me feel known.

So Travis and I spent our last day in Paris together. Starting with our picnic where the atmosphere indulged us with the sweet melody of romance. I was cocooned in his arms while the iconic silhouette of the Eiffel Tower stood in the background. Those short few days in Paris reminded me of why I fell in love with Travis Kelce in the first place.

The following week made me question once again.

• • •

One Week Later

In the midst of what initially seemed like a perfect chapter in my life, where everything fell into place and happiness prevailed, I now find myself navigating the uncertainties of my third trimester with a disconcerting sensation lingering in the pit of my stomach. The post-Paris days brought a subtle shift in Travis's behavior, particularly his increased attention to his phone. While I refrain from prying into his privacy, trusting the foundation of our relationship, subtle red flags have emerged. Travis's irregular physical therapy sessions, both in terms of timing and duration, raise unspoken concerns. Rationalizing it as perhaps a manifestation of pregnancy hormones is a reflex, given my tendency to irrationally resent Travis at times. Despite this, an unsettling intuition persists, whispering the possibility of infidelity. The question lingers – why would Travis jeopardize our engagement, the anticipation of our baby girl, and the life we envisioned together? Amidst the turmoil, nothing feels quite right, and the air is thick with uncertainty.

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