You had been secretly dating Taylor for almost a year when, on the very night you planned to suggest going public, she told you that her team was setting her up in a PR relationship with an NFL player. You didn’t get the chance to argue—she didn’t leave space for that. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Everything had already been arranged.

And so, you endured two more years. You and Taylor had been together for three years now, while she and Travis had been “dating” publicly for two. Taylor always insisted it was only for publicity—that you were the real one. And, well, it showed. In private, she and Travis were friendly, but the chemistry simply wasn’t there. It wasn’t the same as it was with you—and everyone could see it.

But the final straw came when, through an Instagram post, you learned they were engaged. Taylor hadn’t even had the decency to tell you in person. Years ago, you might have screamed, cried, broken things—but this time, you didn’t. The news, combined with what you already knew about her new album (yes, songs like Wood and Wi$h Li$t), made you realize you were done fighting for something that had no way out.

You handed a letter to Tree, asking her to make sure Taylor received it. Then you moved a few kilometers away, trying to start fresh—a clean slate. Until one night, while you were preparing dinner, you heard the doorbell ring wildly, followed by loud, desperate knocking.