blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{38} behind closed doors...

Taylor's POV:

Sarah's mother, Lucy, is in the kitchen pouring lemonade, humming softly to herself. My gaze drifts toward the window, watching as the sun filters through the lace curtains. I can hear Sarah rustling through her school bag in the other room, her small voice mumbling something to herself. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure it echoes in the quiet house.

And then, she's back.

Sarah bounds into the living room, clutching a colorful piece of paper. "Look what I made at school today!" she exclaims, holding up a drawing. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, her blonde hair a bit messy from the day.

I swallow hard and manage a smile, though my chest feels like it's collapsing inward. "Let me see."

She plops down next to me, her small frame leaning into my side as she holds the paper up. It's a picture of a family—a man, a woman, and a little girl holding hands under a bright yellow sun.

"That's me," she says, pointing to the figure with the pigtails. "And that's Mommy and Daddy."

I feel a lump forming in my throat as I nod. "You're a great artist, Sarah. It's beautiful."

Her smile widens, and I feel my heart splinter.

"Thank you!" she chirps, then glances at me curiously. "What's your name again?"

"Taylor," I whisper. My voice cracks slightly, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Okay, Taylor. Mommy says you're new around here?"

"Yeah," I say, clearing my throat. "I just moved nearby."

Sarah beams. "Cool! Are you gonna stay for dinner?"

Before I can answer, Lucy comes back into the room, carrying a tray with glasses of lemonade and some cookies. "Sarah, let Taylor breathe," she says with a laugh, setting the tray on the coffee table.

"It's okay," I say quickly, forcing another smile.

Sarah leans forward, grabbing a cookie. "So, Taylor, do you have kids? Someone I can play with?"

The question pierces through me like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. My throat tightens, and I'm grateful Lucy is too busy rearranging the tray to notice the shift in my expression.

"No," I say softly, and it feels like a lie, though it's technically the truth.

Sarah munches on her cookie, swinging her legs back and forth. "That's a shame, don't you think? I wish there were more kids living in the neighborhood...."

The world tilts beneath me, my stomach lurching violently.

"I'm sorry, Felicia."

The words hang in the air like a thunderclap.

Sarah blinks up at me, confused, her cookie halfway to her mouth. "Huh?"

Lucy freezes, her hand gripping the edge of the tray. Her eyes narrow, her warm smile evaporating into something colder, sharper. "What did you just say?"

I feel the blood drain from my face as panic sets in. "I—nothing. I didn't mean—"

"You called her Felicia." Lucy's voice is calm, too calm, and it terrifies me. Her gaze locks onto mine, scrutinizing every flicker of emotion on my face. "Why would you say that?"

"I didn't mean to," I stammer, standing abruptly. My knees feel weak, but I force myself to stay upright.

Lucy's expression hardens as realization dawns. "Who are you?"