Blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale [Taylor x OC]

{70} I watched it begin again

Aurora's POV:

The silence between us after the kiss is steady, almost soothing. Taylor sits beside me, her head resting lightly against my shoulder, her breathing calm but shallow. For the first time in days, the chaos around us feels distant, locked outside this small, fleeting bubble of peace.
But my mind won't settle. I keep circling back to the truth she let slip earlier—she's late. And as much as I wish I could pretend it's not a pressing issue, I can't. The signs are all there, glaring and insistent.

"Taylor," I say gently, breaking the quiet. I feel her stir beside me, lifting her head just slightly. "You should let them check."

She stiffens immediately, as if the words themselves have knocked the air out of her lungs. Her eyes snap to mine, wide with something bordering on panic. "No," she says quickly, her voice low but sharp. "Aurora, I can't—I don't even want to think about it. It's not possible. It's not."

I take her hand in mine, gripping it firmly but carefully. "I know you don't want it to be true. But don't you think it's better to find out now? So you can at least be prepared?"

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she's going to refuse again. "Prepared?" she echoes bitterly, her voice cracking. "How could I possibly prepare for something like this? I'm not ready—I can't be...I can't be pregnant with Joe's child...." She trails off, her words swallowed by the weight of her fear.

I squeeze her hand, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Taylor, you're the strongest person I know. Whatever happens, you'll figure it out. But not knowing is only going to eat away at you."

She closes her eyes, her shoulders trembling slightly. After what feels like an eternity, she exhales shakily and nods, her agreement more a surrender than a choice. "Fine," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "But I can't... I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone," I promise her. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

Reluctantly, Taylor nods again, and I rise to my feet. I find a nurse near the desk and quietly explain the situation, the weight of my words feeling heavy as I speak them aloud. The nurse nods, understanding and kind, and soon we're led into a small examination room.
Taylor sits stiffly on the chair, her arms crossed tightly over her stomach, as if she can physically shield herself from what's coming. Her face is pale, her eyes dark with exhaustion and dread.
The nurse prepares a syringe, her movements efficient but unhurried. "We'll do a blood test," she explains gently. "It won't take long to draw, but the results might take a little while."

Taylor doesn't respond. She simply extends her arm, her hand trembling slightly as she turns it palm-up. I sit beside her, my hand resting lightly on her knee, grounding her as best I can.
When the needle slides into her vein, Taylor doesn't flinch, but I see the tension ripple through her. She stares straight ahead, her breathing shallow, her entire body wound tight.
"It's just a test," I murmur softly, my fingers brushing against her knee. "No matter what, we'll figure it out. You're not 18 and lost anymore."

She doesn't look at me, but I see her throat bob as she swallows hard. "I can't... I can't be pregnant," she whispers, her voice breaking. "Not now. Not like this."

I wish I had something better to say, something that could ease the fear etched across her face. But all I can do is stay beside her, anchoring her in this moment as the blood is drawn, as her future begins to take shape—one way or another.

Taylor's POV:

Three days have passed. The morning feels deceptively normal. Felicia is buzzing with excitement, swinging her legs from the hospital bed as Aurora helps her pack. Her smile is the first genuine one I've seen on her face in weeks, and for a moment, it eases the heaviness that has been clinging to my chest.
I fold the last of her clothes into the bag, trying to focus on the small victory of getting her out of here. She's safe. She's going to be okay. That's all that matters right now.