blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{34} head first, fearless

Taylor's POV:

It's been a week since I hit rock bottom. A week since I forced myself to start coming up for air again, inch by inch. And yet, the chaos inside me hasn't settled. There's a question—one I've avoided for years—that I can't keep shoving down anymore. Every memory I tried to bury, every moment I thought I'd finally let go, is clawing its way back. And I can't escape it.

Now, I'm sitting here, in my dim apartment, the phone warm in my hand, my finger hovering over the call button. The adoption agency's number stares back at me, heavy with the promise of answers I'm terrified to hear.

Aurora sits beside me, hand resting on my knee. Her presence grounds me, her quiet strength making me feel like I might actually be able to do this. I look over at her, and she gives me a soft, encouraging smile, her thumb moving in slow, soothing circles. Her eyes are steady, and I don't know how I'd face this without her here.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, then press "call."

It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. My pulse thunders in my ears until, finally, a voice crackles through the line. "Hello, Midstate Adoption Services. How can I assist you?"

I grip the phone tighter. "Hi, uh... my name is Taylor Swift. I placed a baby for adoption... years ago. I'm... trying to find out if there's any way to... reconnect with her." The words tumble out, leaving a raw, hollow ache in their wake. Just saying it feels like it splits something open inside me.

The woman on the other end pauses for a beat, then begins typing. "Of course, Ms. Swift. I'll locate the file for you. May I place you on hold for a moment?"

"Yes," I manage, though my voice barely holds together. I lower the phone from my ear, staring blankly at the floor, heart pounding so loud I think I might pass out.

Aurora's hand is still wrapped around mine, her grip tightening when she sees the panic in my eyes. She leans close, her voice a gentle murmur. "Hey. You're doing so well. You're here, facing it."

I shake my head, fighting back tears. "Aurora, what if this is a mistake? What if I'm just... dragging up all of it again, for nothing?"

She looks at me, deep and unwavering. "You're not doing it for nothing, Taylor. You're doing it because she's a part of you. Even if you don't ever get to see her, at least you'll know you tried. It's okay to want that."

Her words pull me back from the edge, just enough that I feel like I can breathe. Before I can say anything, the line clicks back on, and the woman's voice returns. "Ms. Swift? I've located your file. I'll need to ask a few questions to verify your identity before we proceed."

"Of course." My voice is barely a whisper now. I answer everything she asks: my birth date, address, the exact date of the adoption. Each answer drags me back to those days, the hospital room, the silence, the overwhelming sense that I was doing something I could never undo.

Finally, she speaks again. "Thank you for confirming, Ms. Swift. Now, as for your daughter... I can tell you she was placed with a family who met the conditions you requested. They've been listed in our records as maintaining a stable, healthy environment for her. However, as she's a minor, we'll need consent from both her and her legal guardians if we're to share any identifying information or facilitate contact."

The knot in my stomach tightens. I nod, even though I know she can't see me. "So... what can I do?" I ask, voice shaky.

"Well, you do have the option of leaving a letter or message with us, which we can pass along to her if she chooses to reach out at any point in the future. In this way, should she seek more information, she'll find something from you waiting."