blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{9} echoes of danger

Taylor's POV:

"That's not true...it-it's just low blood sugar. It happens sometimes."
It's an easy excuse, one I've used a hundred times before.

She rolls her eyes. "Low blood sugar because you're not eating, right?"

Her bluntness catches me off guard, and I stiffen. "I'm fine, Aurora," I insist, feeling a defensive edge creep into my voice. "I'll be fine."

But she's not letting it go. She steps closer, her gaze scanning my face, and I can see her taking in every detail—the dark circles under my eyes, the way my hands are still shaking. "When's the last time you actually ate something?"

I try to keep my expression neutral, but I feel myself faltering.

"I... I had breakfast," I lie, but it comes out unconvincing, even to me.
Aurora scoffs, shaking her head. "Yeah, sure." There's an edge to her voice, but it's not harsh. It's like she's frustrated, like she wants me to admit what she already knows.

I swallow, my throat tight. "I'm really okay. I don't need—"

"Ms. Swift, you don't have to lie," she interrupts, and this time her voice is softer, almost like she's pleading with me. "I can see you struggling. I know what a restrictive eating disorder looks like."

Her words hit me harder than I expect. I glance away, my eyes fixed on the floor. I don't want to look at her, to see that look in her eyes—the one that says she knows exactly what's going on. I want to ask her how she knows but I don't, it's not appropriate. "Aurora, I appreciate it, but I really don't have an eating disorder and this really isn't your concern", I mumble instead.

She's quiet for a moment, and when I finally look up, she's staring at me with an intensity I haven't seen before. "I know it's not. But you can't keep pretending."

I feel my cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and something else—something I can't quite name. "I'll be fine," I say again, but my voice is barely above a whisper.

Aurora sighs, like she's annoyed and concerned all at once. "Fine. Keep saying that. But it's not working." She pauses, and then her voice drops, softer, almost hesitant. "You need to take care of yourself."

I want to snap back, to tell her it's none of her business, but the concern in her eyes stops me. It's like she's seeing right through the walls I've built, the ones that keep me safe. And the worst part is, I can't even be angry at her for it. Because deep down, I know she's right.

"Thanks," I mumble, my gaze dropping to the floor again. "I'll... I'll figure it out."

Aurora doesn't say anything for a moment, and I can feel the silence stretch between us. When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet I almost miss it. "You shouldn't have to figure it out alone."

Something tightens in my chest, and I can't bring myself to respond. I just nod, hoping she'll take it as an answer.
After another beat of silence, she pulls back, her mask slipping back into place.

"Whatever," she mutters, crossing her arms again. "Just... don't pass out again, okay? It's embarrassing."

I give a small, shaky laugh. "I'll do my best."

As she walks out of the room, I watch her go, feeling the strangest mix of emotions. She's seen too much, knows too much. And for the first time, I'm not sure if I want her to look away.

About half an hour later when I finally hear footsteps outside the nurse's office, I sit up slowly, bracing myself for another wave of dizziness. The door swings open, and Blake's familiar face pops in. "Hey, Tay," she says, her voice light and casual, like this is just any other day. "Ready to get out of here?"