blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{25} from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

Taylor's POV:

I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I find myself scanning the hallway every time I step out of my classroom, looking for anything—or anyone—that might be out of place. Even the sound of footsteps in the hall makes me tense, and I have to fight the urge to look over my shoulder. No one around me seems to notice anything different, but I feel like I'm standing in the center of a web, waiting for it to close in.

After I found that first note, I told myself it was just a prank, that someone was trying to get under my skin. But then, each time I let myself relax, another note would appear, turning my stomach with a fresh sense of dread. And now... now I'm constantly on edge, trying to stay ahead of whoever this person is. Trying to protect Aurora from it all.

I haven't told her about the latest note, the one left in my car. I found it yesterday when I was leaving work, and even just looking at it made my skin prickle. It wasn't the words themselves that terrified me, but the fact that they came with a photo—a blurry, dark shot of me and Aurora. Us, in the doorway of my apartment. Someone had been close enough to capture it, close enough to make it clear we were being watched.

Even thinking about it makes me feel sick. I've been pulling back, trying to keep Aurora safe by keeping my distance, but I can tell she's starting to notice. She's hurt, confused, and every time I see her look at me, that hurt slices right through me.

One night, after I manage to sneak away with her for just a few minutes, we have an honest conversation.

"You're pulling away from me." Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant, but I can hear the hurt underneath. "I can feel it, Taylor. You're slipping back behind this wall... shutting me out."

"Aurora," I start, trying to think of something to say, but she shakes her head.

"I can't keep pretending I don't notice. If you keep pushing me away, you're letting whoever is sending those notes win." Her voice trembles just a little, and she takes a step closer to me, her gaze steady and fierce. "You're letting them scare us into falling apart."

She's right. I know she's right. But I feel so trapped, as if every move I make could make things worse. As if loving her is the one thing I shouldn't do, and yet I don't know how to stop. I take her hand, feeling the warmth of her fingers against mine, and in that moment, I let the weight of everything slip away. Just for a second, I let myself believe that we're safe, that it's just the two of us against the world.

We're careful after that. More careful than before. But even as we try to keep our distance, it feels like there's someone always a step behind us, waiting. A few days later, I find another note slipped under my apartment door. The handwriting is jagged, angry:

Break it off or you'll have to live with the consequences.

A chill runs through me, and I spend the night pacing my apartment, my mind racing. Whoever this is, they aren't going to stop. They know where I live. They're trying to scare me, to push me into giving up, and the thought of putting Aurora at risk, of letting this shadow into our lives, makes my stomach twist.

The next few weeks are a blur of anxiety and stolen moments, each one carrying more tension than before. We avoid each other at school, barely even exchanging glances, but the fear keeps eating at me. I'm hardly sleeping, constantly on alert, waiting for the next sign that someone is getting closer to exposing us. It's tearing me apart, but every time I consider breaking things off, I can't bring myself to follow through. The idea of pushing her away, of living without her, feels like too much to bear.

I come home one evening and feel so suffocated by it all that I sink onto the couch, burying my face in my hands as the pressure finally spills over. I feel the tightness in my chest, the way my hands tremble, and before I know it, I'm sobbing. I keep telling myself that this isn't worth it, that maybe the only way to keep her safe is to let her go. But then I picture her face, the way she looked at me when she promised we'd get through this together, and my heart breaks all over again.