'Joe, please, put her down. Just stop this... you're scaring her. She doesn't know who you are'.
'And who's fault is that, Taylor?'
'It's your fucking fault, Joe. Where were you when we needed you? When I was pregnant, and alone, where were you? Not with us. And now she's 1, you want to waltz back into our lives. It's not happening, I won't let you'.
'You'll be hearing from my lawyer, Taylor. This isn't the last of this'.
Cringing as she hears her front door slam, rattling the glass, Taylor runs to her daughter's side, left on the couch, pulling her baby, quietly crying, into her chest, whispering, 'It's ok, Tilly, mommy's here' into her ear.
It was just the latest in a long line of interactions with Joe that had gone badly, but this time Taylor had had enough. She couldn't do it any more, and neither could Matilda.
Matilda Grace, her beautiful, funny, gorgeous baby girl, who had just turned one today. Her little girl, born in March 2022, who had saved her from a life and a relationship she didn't know she needed rescued from, and who had been by her side every single day since.
Taylor and Joe had been happy, she thought. Back then, in the middle of the pandemic, they had hid away in her house in London, content to make bits and pieces of music together, enjoy the slow pace of life that had been enforced upon the world. They spent days inside, with just each other for company: reading, baking, playing board games.
It had all been so idyllic, that Taylor knew she should have seen something coming. And when it did, she wasn't even that surprised.
She had been in Nashville, her first trip back to the States since the pandemic started, desperate to see her mom in the flesh and check how she was. It was a brief trip, so Joe had stayed behind - plus, he had work to do as well, he told her.
She'd decided to return a day earlier than planned, using the opportunity to surprise him, picking up his favourite dinner on the way back to her house. When she got there, she knew he was there - the tell tale signs of life in his glasses on the kitchen table, his jacket slung over the banister, his shoes in the hallway. If she'd looked a little closer, she would have noticed a second jacket, a woman's handbag, but she hadn't - and when she had gone upstairs, it was glaringly obvious.
The funny thing was, at the time, he wasn't even surprised he had been caught with another woman in her bed. He'd handled Taylor screaming at him, throwing him out, his things landing on the sidewalk beside him, with a cool, calm demeanor that only added to her fury. He'd simply picked up his things and turned around and walked away, leaving her alone.
Later, he told her it had been happening for a while, and she felt her world crumble around her. Looking back, there had been signs: but in the midst of the love that she had thought was her forever, she'd overlooked them, convinced herself she was crazy.
She sold the house not three weeks later, the most recent memory of Joe in bed with another woman burning all her other, happier times spent in Primrose Hill. She returned to New York, desperate for a fresh start and to put at least a sea's distance between them.
She had only been back a couple of weeks when her world changed again, entirely. Hunched over the toilet in her bathroom for the fourth morning in a row, she'd known exactly what was happening. A test confirmed it later that afternoon and while it wasn't the most ideal situation, she knew she wanted this baby. Her chance to be a mother.
When she had dialled Joe's number to tell him, the operator informed her the number was disconnected and no longer in service. She plucked up the courage to call his mother, asking for his new one - and was rebuffed, fobbed off with an excuse of 'I'll get him to call you'.
She saw why a few days later, paparazzi photos appearing on her Twitter feed of Joe with his arms around Emma, strolling around London, not a care in the world. Her heart began to beat faster, and she didn't know if it was in anger or hurt - the two were pretty frequently interconnected, these days.
Her final resort was to get her publicist to contact his, and only then did she get a text from him.
Not sure what you want me to do with that news, Taylor.
You're going to be a father, Joe. What you do with that news is up to you. She'll be here in five months. Make your mind up.
Despite her ultimatum, he never really had - floating in and out of their lives as his mood fluctuated. He had been around when she was a newborn, staying in New York for days at a time. But then he informed her that Emma was pregnant, and ever since had been all but absent.
She tried, she really did. She showed Matilda photos of her dad, she talked to her about him. She tried to FaceTime him every Sunday, as per their custody agreement, but he only picked up sporadically. Despite her best efforts, Matilda didn't know who the man was - and Taylor was tired of trying. Her baby girl deserved better, and if that meant just having Taylor, then that's what would happen.
He'd shown up tonight, her first birthday, claiming he was desperate to see her. Taylor had been about to put her to bed, already past seven, when she'd let him in. Immediately, she knew it was a mistake, could smell the alcohol on his breath as he passed her in the doorway.
Things had escalated as Matilda had clung to Taylor, seeking refuge in the safety of her mother's arms. He had grabbed her then, shouting, before Taylor had put a stop to it. When he left, she instructed security to never let him on the premises again. If she could help it, he wouldn't lay another hand on her baby girl.
Now, she rocks Matilda in the chair in the nursery, gently singing her to sleep, like she does every night. She watches as her eyes grow heavy, her breathing evening out against her chest, the snuffly sound of sleep overtaking her. 'I love you, Tilly. Sweet dreams, sweet pea, and happy birthday'.
Placing her into her crib and going to her room, Taylor tries to put all thoughts of Joe behind as she stares at the scene. Suitcases galore are scattered around the room, filled with an assortment of clothes and accessories for them both.
Tomorrow, they'd be travelling to Glendale, Arizona, for the start of the Eras Tour. The tour was the embodiment of another one of her refuges: music. Without it, she has no idea if she and Matilda would still be standing, as strong as they are.
It's late when she gets finished and crawls into bed, smiling as she checks the reactions to her birthday post for Matilda, and that her fans had managed to trend #HappyBirthdayMatilda on Twiter. She'd decided not to share too much when she was first born, but her pride in her daughter meant she couldn't resist when it was her birthday. Plus, the picture of her stuffing her face with cake, pink icing smeared into her hair, was just too damn cute not to share.
The next morning, they're off early to Arizona, and that evening is the opening of a tour that will take her all over the world over the next two years. She can't help but glance down to the VIP tent throughout, her mom and dad proudly standing watching, her baby girl snuggled in their arms, pink glittery ear defenders on, arms full on friendship bracelets. The start of an adventure, with them all by her side.
Oh, if she'd only known where it would take her and the love it would bring along the way...
taylorswift: Happy 1st Birthday to my gorgeous baby girl. Tilly, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me! I love your spirit and smile; your giggles and your cuddles. Please stay little forever? Love, mom.
