Blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale [Taylor x OC]

{59} look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

Taylor's POV:

The house is quiet now, wrapped in the kind of stillness that always feels fragile after a day like today. Felicia is tucked in bed, though I made sure she took her antibiotics before, her breathing soft and even when I checked on her earlier. Joe is downstairs, lost in one of his mystery novels, his way of unwinding.

And me? I'm locked in the bathroom.

I sit on the closed toilet lid, staring at the folded piece of paper in my trembling hands. It feels heavier than it should, as if the words inside are made of lead. I haven't touched it since I climbed into the car at the hospital. Haven't dared to.
But now, in the dim glow of the bathroom light, there's no escaping it.

I unfold it carefully, the rustle of the paper sounding unbearably loud in the silence. Her handwriting jumps out at me immediately—crucially familiar and yet so foreign

Please let me explain myself.

Below that, what I assume must be her new phone number.

I let out a shaky breath and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, the note dangling from my fingertips.
She wants to explain. After all these years, after everything, she thinks there's something to explain.
Anger flashes through me again, hot and sharp. I crumple the note in my hand, the edges biting into my palm. What could she possibly say that would make any of it okay? That would erase the years of silence, the nights I spent wondering if I'd done something wrong, if I'd been too much for her? She can't take away that pain because I fear that's simply gonna be forevermore.

But beneath the anger, there's something else. Something quieter.

Hope.

God, I hate that it's there. I hate that my heart still skips when I think about her. That a part of me has never stopped longing for her - her gentle touch, her soothing words, her healing love.

My eyes burn, and I press my palms against them, willing the tears away. I've already cried too much over that woman. I promised myself I wouldn't do it again.
I look at the note once more, smoothing the crumpled edges against my thigh. The words stare back at me, patient and unrelenting.
My phone is on the sink beside me, the screen black and reflective. I reach for it before I can think too much, my fingers hovering over the keypad.

But I don't dial.

Instead, I carefully fold the note again and slide it into the pocket of my hoodie. My heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of my chest, but I can't make the call. I can't even send a text.
I stand and splash cold water on my face, trying to steady my nerves. When I look up at the mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me—her eyes too wide, her shoulders tense with emotions she can't afford to feel.

"Not tonight," I whisper to my reflection.

I turn off the light and step out of the bathroom retreating back to Joe, who is still sprawled out on the sofa. He glances up, over the rim of his book, meeting my eyes.

"Feli okay?" he wants to know, slipping a bookmark between the pages before closing the novel, drawing his entire attention to me.

"Yeah...yeah I think so. That was one hell of a scare she gave me there," I let out with a sigh while rubbing my temples intensively.
With hesitant steps I cross the room
and settle beside him. He pulls me close, his arm draped over my shoulders, and I try to relax into his warmth.

"She'll be okay," Joe murmurs. "Let's try not to think about it too much."
But this feels like an impossible task—My mind is still back at the hospital, with Felicia's pale face and Aurora's piercing eyes.
Joe presses a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering. "You know, it's been a while since we've had some time just for us," he mumbles, just like recently, his hand sliding down my arm.
I stiffen, my heart sinking. I know exactly where this is going. "And you know I'll leave for that business trip tomorrow."