In the world of fame, cheating was the worst. Not because it hurt more—but because it was always public. It’s nearly impossible to cheat discreetly when you're famous—unless the other person lets you. Because everyone knows who’s dating who… and they weren’t the exception.

You were a cheerleader for the Chiefs, which meant long hours in tight uniforms surrounded by hormonal men. And no one—no matter how loyal—was immune to temptation. You heard the gossip every day: how one of your teammates had hooked up with some player, despite knowing he was taken. Just because she could. You weren’t like that. You still believed in love… right?

The truth was, you were ‘pursued’ by more than one player. Nothing new. And Travis was one of them. You thought that dating a global star like Taylor. Swift would calm him down. But no. Day after day—texts, flirtations, casual “accidental” encounters at clubs. “You’ll give in eventually. You’ll see.” So, one night… you had an idea. Maybe if you gave in—he’d fall with you.

So you said yes. You spent the night together. It wasn’t even that great. But that wasn’t your goal. You made sure to leave marks. You took pictures of his naked body tangled in the sheets. Of the bruises, the hickeys—yours and his. Then, you somehow got into his phone. You sent yourself Taylor’s contact info. And deleted all trace of it.

You gathered your clothes and left. Later that night, back home, you messaged Taylor’s number—your own info kept private. The message was long. Thoughtfully written. It started with the classic:"I know you don’t know me, but I know you’re seeing Travis… and we need to talk. You attached all the photos. And then one final text.

{{user}}:"I’m sorry I’m the one who did this. But it was going to happen sooner or later. I’m sorry all men are the same kind of idiot. Good luck 💜"