blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{30} no body, no crime

Taylor's POV

Sitting in this small, sterile room with the police officer's eyes fixed on me, my pulse races, though I keep my expression neutral. I've been through too much already to let fear show. I remind myself to stay calm, to stick to the story Aurora and I went over before—over and over, until every word was seamless.

The officer clears his throat. "Ms. Swift, you understand why you're here, correct?"

"Yes," I say, keeping my voice steady. "I understand."

His gaze is sharp, evaluating. "Then let's start with your relationship to Aurora, your student. We have a serious accusation here, one that—well, let's just say it requires some clear answers."

I take a breath, willing myself to stay composed. "Aurora's a talented student. She's also... someone who's been through a lot. A lot of things that students shouldn't have to handle alone." I look directly at him, hoping he believes me. "She came to me for support, advice... someone to talk to. I wanted to be there for her, to give her a safe space. Nothing more."

The officer scribbles something in his notes, but his expression doesn't shift. "So, you're saying you offered her... mentorship? Guidance?"

I nod. "Exactly. I was just... trying to help."

The room feels like it's shrinking, the walls pressing in around me. I focus on breathing, on keeping my hands steady, but the officer's gaze is relentless, probing. He's not buying it, I can tell.

"So, Ms. Swift," he says, setting down his pen with a slight thud, "you're telling me that this student—Aurora—is just... what? A struggling kid you were trying to help?"

"Yes." I nod, making sure my voice doesn't waver. "She has a difficult home life, and she needed someone to listen. That's all I was trying to do."

He gives a small, skeptical smile, leaning forward. "And you're saying you, her teacher, just happened to become her confidante? No boundaries were ever crossed?"

I grit my teeth, holding back a response I'd regret. "That's right," I reply, choosing my words carefully. "I know my role as her teacher. I care about her well-being, but I would never cross a line."

He raises his eyebrows, eyes narrowing. "Because we have information suggesting otherwise. Multiple notes sent to you, meetings in private... doesn't look like typical teacher-student behavior to me."

My heart races, but I don't look away. "The notes were from Maya, threatening. I was trying to keep her safe. And we met in private because I didn't want her to feel exposed or judged. It's not as strange as it sounds. Teachers sometimes help students outside of the classroom."

His lips press into a thin line, and he looks down at his notebook again, tapping his pen thoughtfully. "So you're saying there was nothing going on—no relationship beyond that of a concerned teacher and a struggling student?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." The words come out firm, but I feel the weight of each one. He's not letting up, and every question he asks brings us closer to the edge.

"Ms. Swift, if there's anything else you'd like to share—anything that could clear this up—you'd do well to tell me now," he says slowly, his voice edged with suspicion.

"I've told you the truth," I say, forcing myself to meet his stare. "I did nothing inappropriate. I just tried to support her."

He watches me in silence, as if waiting for me to slip, to admit something. The silence stretches unbearably, a war of wills I'm desperate to win.

The officer stands, his gaze cold and unrelenting as he tucks his notebook under his arm. "We'll be speaking to Aurora soon," he says, voice low and deliberate, each word dripping with a quiet threat. "She'll have her chance to confirm or deny everything you've said here."