Blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale [Taylor x OC]

{58} bad blood or still mad love?

Taylor's POV:

The waiting room is suffocating. I can't breathe.

I sit hunched forward in one of those plastic chairs that dig into your back, my elbows on my knees, hands gripping my head like I can hold myself together by sheer force. My whole body trembles, my eyes are raw, and my face is wet—no point pretending I'm not crying. I don't even care. My baby is in there. And I can't do a single goddamn thing to help her.

They forced me to wait here. One of the nurses—a kind woman, I think, though at that moment I can't see her as anything but an obstacle—pulled me back as they wheeled Felicia away. "We need space to work," she'd said firmly, her hands warm but unrelenting on my shoulders. "You'll only make her more scared."
I know she's right. I know. But I still nearly lost my mind when those doors closed. And now I'm here, frozen in this purgatory of not knowing.

It's my fault. I left her at that party. I should've stayed. Should've watched her. Maybe I could've caught the bee before it stung her. Maybe I could've kept her safe. That's my job, isn't it? To keep her safe. The sound of her little voice gasping on the way to the hospital:
"Mom, I can't—"

I choke on a fresh sob and swipe at my face with the back of my hand. My eyes flick up to the clock on the wall. Every second feels like an hour, dragging on and taunting me. The nurse said they were stabilizing her, but then why do I feel like my entire world is tilting off its axis?

A voice cuts through the fog. "Oh my god. It's her."

I freeze before I hear the sound of sneakers scuffing on the floor, whispers turning to excited murmurs. A cold, gnawing dread pools in my stomach, and before I can pull myself together, they're in front of me. Three teenage girls, phones already in their hands, eyes shining as if they've stumbled across some kind of prize.

"Are you Taylor?" The tallest one leans closer, her grin wide and shameless. "Taylor Swift, right? Oh my god, it is you. I told you!"
I blink up at them, my head spinning. My mouth opens, then closes. This can't be happening. Not now.
"We're huge fans. Your album is, like, the best thing ever. Could we get a picture? Just real quick?"

A picture? I stare at them, stunned into silence, as if I've forgotten how to speak. I look around the waiting room, but no one intervenes. The nurses behind the desk are busy. A man a few rows away looks up briefly but then lowers his gaze.
I try to summon the part of me that should know how to handle this. The performer. The professional. That woman who smiles even when she doesn't want to. But right now, I can't find her.
"I—" My voice comes out thin and unsteady. I clear my throat and force a smile that feels like glass cracking. "Girls, this really isn't a good time."

The second one pipes up, undeterred. "We promise it'll take two seconds. Please? My friends won't believe me if I don't get a picture."

Two seconds. That's all they're asking for. I know they don't mean harm—they're just kids. But I'm drowning, and they don't see it. Why don't they see it?
My hands shake as I try to wipe my face again, clearing the streaks of tears that surely must clue them in. "I... I can't right now."

The third girl nudges the first one, her voice not even lowered. "She doesn't seem busy."

My head spins. Heat rises to my cheeks, a mix of anger, shame, and sheer overwhelm. I feel like I might snap, and I don't snap. Not ever. I'm supposed to be kind, right? Accommodating. A role model. It's what I have to be now.

But before I can unravel completely, a sharp voice cuts in. "Hey. Are you serious right now?"
I flinch, my gaze snapping up. And there is Aurora. She's standing a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight. Her camera bag still hangs from her shoulder, like she was leaving when she saw this mess unfolding. For a second, the whole world tilts again—but this time because of her.