Blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale [Taylor x OC]

{52} I think there's been a glitch

Three years later
October 2020
Taylor's POV:

"Careful, Gordon Ramsay," I tease from the table where I'm helping Felicia finish setting the plates. "You're one step away from setting the kitchen on fire."

Joe turns around, a wooden spoon in hand, and points it at me like it's a sword. "I'll have you know, madam, that this sauce is a masterpiece. A symphony of flavors!"

Felicia bursts into laughter, dropping the napkins she's holding. "It's from a jar, Joe. I saw you open it."

He gasps, clutching his chest as if she's mortally wounded him. "You wound me, child. This sauce has been lovingly...enhanced. I added garlic, basil, and a touch of my secret ingredient."

"Secret ingredient?" I raise an eyebrow. "Please tell me it's not ketchup."

Joe narrows his eyes at me. "You'll never know my culinary secrets."

Felicia grins, picking up the napkins again. "It's totally ketchup. I saw the bottle."

I laugh, shaking my head, and ruffle her hair as she passes me. "Good detective work, kiddo. Keep him honest."

By the time Joe brings the spaghetti and garlic bread to the table, Felicia's already claimed the seat closest to the bread basket. "Can I have two pieces of garlic bread, or is that greedy?" she asks, eyeing the buttery slices like they're gold.

Joe sits down and pretends to think deeply. "Hmm, two pieces might make you a little too powerful. But if you promise to use your bread-eating powers for good, I'll allow it."

Felicia giggles and grabs two slices without hesitation. "Deal!"

"Careful," I say as I start serving the pasta. "Too much garlic bread, and you'll turn into a breadstick yourself."

Felicia rolls her eyes dramatically. "Mom, that's not even possible."

"You don't know that," I reply, deadpan. "I've seen it happen before. One day you're a kid, the next you're a six-foot breadstick walking around the house."

Joe chokes on his water, laughing. "Tay, that's so ridiculous it's almost believable."

Felicia giggles again, but she's clearly not convinced. "I think you're just making stuff up so you can have more bread for yourself."

"Smart kid," Joe says, pointing his fork at her. "She's onto you, Taylor."

Sometimes, when I look at how much has changed, I don't even recognize my own life.

After dinner I'm sitting in the living room of the house Joe and I share with Felicia, watching her braid her hair in front of the mirror. She's eleven now—eleven and full of sass and light, a little spark that refuses to dim no matter what life throws at her.

The past three years have been a whirlwind, filled with moments of heartache, hope, and triumph. Some days I can't believe how far we've come—how far I've come.

About two and a half years ago, after what felt like an eternity of court hearings and scrutiny, I was finally granted full custody of Felicia. It was the hardest battle of my life, one that left me drained but victorious. Holding that piece of paper in my hands, knowing she was mine—forever—was the first time in years that I felt like I could truly breathe. I took that opportunity to tell my parents about Felicia and let's say it could have gone worse. They needed like five business days to adjust to the situation and the fact that I've been keeping her a secret from them for years, as well as my pregnancy, but eventually they came to love her with all of their hearts.

Not long after that, I faced another fight—this one against myself. My eating disorder, which had been quietly lurking for years, became impossible to ignore. I hit rock bottom when Felicia caught me fainting in the kitchen one morning. The look on her face, the fear in her voice as she called 911 for help... It was a wake-up call I couldn't ignore.
I spent two months in a mental hospital, and though it was the most grueling experience of my life, it saved me. I learned to treat my body with kindness, to nourish myself not just for Felicia but for me. Recovery isn't linear, and there are still hard days, but I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm stronger than I ever thought I could be.