Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Emma Swan never liked Christmas.

Growing up in the foster system, the holiday season had been more about being ignored in the corner of someone else's celebration than about joy or family. Tinsel and twinkle lights reminded her more of loneliness than magic. Even now, with snow dusting the edges of Boston’s streets, the Christmas music drifting from storefronts made her teeth clench.

But some things had changed.

Her son Henry, now ten, had been born on a cold December morning, just weeks before Christmas. He was the first thing that had ever felt truly hers. After he came into the world, holidays weren’t quite as bitter. She still didn’t like them, not really, but she’d learned to fake it for him—decorated a little tree, wrapped dollar-store presents, baked burnt cookies. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.

Now, she had more than Henry to think about. A plus sign on a stick she’d stared at too long last week told her she was going to be a mother again. She hadn’t planned on a second child. Especially not from a one-night stand that she barely remembered, other than how safe it had felt to be held for a few hours, how tired she’d been of being alone.

The pay from the bookstore barely kept them afloat. Writing helped—emotionally, mostly—but it wasn’t paying bills. Not yet. Her stories, quiet little bursts of emotion wrapped in fiction, had started as a teenager’s therapy and never really stopped. Lately, she'd been pouring herself into something new: a sapphic holiday romance. It was unlike anything she’d written before—soft, hopeful, even a little magical. And maybe, just maybe, if she could finish it in time, it might sell enough copies to make a difference this Christmas.

Emma closed her notebook and rested a hand over her growing stomach. She didn’t believe in Christmas miracles—but for her kids, maybe she’d try

Chapter Text

It was the first of December, and Emma’s newest book had just been published. When she first started writing it, she posted the opening chapters online to test the waters. A few readers had followed along—loyal, but not many—so she hadn’t expected it to sell well.

With Henry’s birthday fast approaching, she was saving every penny she could. He’d been asking for a Nintendo Switch with Mario Kart—nothing extravagant, but still expensive by her standards. She’d told him it would be both his birthday and Christmas present, since the two dates were so close together.

That morning, after dropping Henry off at school, Emma headed straight to the bookstore where she worked. When she arrived, a woman was already waiting outside by the locked door.

She was striking—dressed in a tailored skirt suit that probably cost more than Emma made in a month. Latina, slightly older, with sleek black hair brushing her shoulders. Not the type who usually wandered into Emma’s cozy, slightly chaotic bookstore.

“Good morning,” Emma said as she unlocked the door. “Sorry—we open at eight. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long in the snow.”

The woman gave her a warm smile, eyes flicking briefly over Emma’s outfit, taking her in. Not in a judgmental way—just curious. Emma knew her look stood out: tank tops, jeans, and leather jackets were her year-round uniform. Today was no exception—gray tank top, red leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots. A far cry from the woman’s polished style.

“It’s alright,” the woman said, stepping inside when Emma held the door open. “I haven’t been out here long. You’re Emma Swan, right?”

Emma blinked. “Yeah... Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” the woman replied with a soft laugh. “My name is Regina Mills. I read the beginning of your book online a few months ago—and I bought it the day it came out.”

So she was... Emma’s first fan?

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Mills,” Emma said, extending a hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, first,” Regina said, pulling a copy of Emma’s book from her bag, “would you mind signing this?”

Emma nodded, taking the book and grabbing a pen.

“And second,” Regina continued, “I live in a small town, and a lot of my friends have read—or are currently reading—your book. I was wondering if you’d consider coming out for a meet-and-greet. Nothing big, just something local.”

Emma hesitated, handing the signed book back. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said honestly. “But I’m the only one running this place, and I can’t afford to close up shop or leave my son alone for a few days.”

Regina tucked the signed book carefully back into her bag, then looked up at Emma with a thoughtful expression.

“I understand,” she said, her voice warm but sincere. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just thought… your story resonated with a lot of people. With me, too.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, curiosity softening her usual guardedness. “Really? I wasn’t sure anyone would even read it.”

“Well, they did,” Regina said with a soft smile. “And they’re still talking about it. Especially the way you wrote the main character’s loneliness during the holidays. It felt real.” She paused. “Too real, honestly.”

Emma’s mouth tugged into a wry half-smile. “Yeah, that part wasn’t exactly fiction.”

Regina looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “I figured. That’s why I hoped to meet you.”

Emma felt a flicker of something unexpected—connection, maybe, or just the rare sensation of being seen. She shifted behind the counter, trying to regain some sense of grounding. “So… this meet-and-greet. Where exactly would it be?”

“In Storybrooke,” Regina said, her tone turning a touch more businesslike. “It’s a small coastal town, about three hours north. Quiet, but we have a charming little bookstore and a few community events. I thought we could host something simple—an author Q&A, maybe a signing. Nothing fancy.”

“Sounds like more than we get here,” Emma said with a dry chuckle.

Regina smiled again, but her eyes stayed on Emma’s, earnest. “I can cover your travel expenses. And if it’s your son you’re worried about, we’d be happy to host both of you. There’s a local inn I can speak to.”

Emma blinked. “You’d really do all that?”

“I believe in supporting writers,” Regina replied. “Especially ones brave enough to tell stories that matter.”

For a moment, Emma didn’t know what to say. No one had ever called her brave for writing. She usually got indifference at best—at worst, mockery.

“…I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. “I have to make sure things here don’t fall apart if I’m gone. And I’d have to check with Henry’s school.”

“Of course.” Regina pulled a sleek business card from her purse and placed it on the counter. “My contact information. No pressure. Just think it over.”

Emma nodded, picking up the card and glancing at the name printed in elegant gold script. Regina Mills, Mayor, Community Organizer, Storybrooke.

Regina was already heading for the door, but she turned back once more.

“Oh,” she added with a playful tilt of her head, “And for what it’s worth? I think your book’s going to sell better than you think.”

Then she stepped out into the cold morning, leaving Emma standing behind the counter—staring at the door, at the card in her hand, and at the strange flutter of something warm and uncertain in her chest.

Emma slipped the business card into her back pocket and let out a slow breath, the bell above the door still faintly echoing. Her fingers drummed against the counter as she stared out the frosted window, snowflakes drifting lazily past.

She didn’t usually get flustered by strangers. But there was something about Regina—her confidence, her eyes, the way she spoke to Emma like she mattered. It lingered.

Shaking her head to clear it, Emma flipped the store’s sign to “Open” and moved behind the counter to start the morning routine. She booted up the register, tidied the return bin, and made a mental note to reorder the latest fantasy series that teenagers had been devouring.

The smell of old books and brewing coffee settled around her like a worn-in sweater. Familiar. Safe.

The bell above the door jingled again. This time, it was Mr. Brown—her most peculiar customer, always wearing a three-piece suit and asking pointed questions about rare editions she was pretty sure he invented. He gave her a curt nod and disappeared into the shelves without a word.

The rest of the morning passed in a gentle rhythm. A mother with two toddlers came in looking for picture books. A college student bought a worn paperback of Pride and Prejudice . A tourist asked if the shop had Wi-Fi and left when she said no.

But in the quiet moments between transactions, Emma kept thinking about the woman in the skirt suit.

Just before lunch, she pulled out her phone and opened her email app. Her publisher had sent her a sales update—nothing life-changing, but it looked like her new book was getting some traction. A little spike, actually.

Emma frowned. Weird timing.

She glanced around the empty store, then opened Instagram. Her inbox was full of unread DMs. She hadn’t checked them since the book launched. She clicked the most recent one from a name she didn’t recognize.

“Just finished your book—couldn’t put it down. Do you have any signings coming up?”

Another one followed.

“Please come to Storybrooke! We’re all obsessed.”

Her heart skipped.

Regina hadn’t been exaggerating.

Emma leaned on the counter, eyes scanning the messages. She could already hear Henry’s voice in her head: “Mom, you’re kind of famous.”

Emma started to wonder—how had her book become so popular in a small town like Storybrooke? Regina must have talked about it, spread the word. That was it—she needed publicity. Real advertising. She made a mental note to talk to her editor about it; she had no idea how any of that worked.

Her eyes drifted to the small stack of her books sitting on a shelf near the register—untouched. She knew it wasn’t the kind of story her regular customers usually bought, but still, it felt wrong not to carry her own book in her own store.

The morning passed slowly. She helped a few customers, rearranged some shelves—but her mind kept drifting. The idea of doing a meet-and-greet kept circling back. It could be great exposure, and it’s not like she had any real plans for the holidays.

Regina had even offered to cover the travel expenses. That was huge. But closing the store for a few days? That meant lost income. Still, she had just enough set aside to buy Henry’s gift, and he’d be thrilled to spend the holidays somewhere new.

There were just too many pros and cons—and no clear answer.

She decided to talk to the only person she trusted for advice—Liz, the college student who occasionally babysat Henry. They weren’t exactly close friends, but Emma saw a bit of herself in the younger girl. Liz had grown up in the system too, and she always seemed to have good advice, even if Emma didn’t always follow it.

Still, Emma’s thoughts kept drifting back to Henry—and the conversation she kept putting off.

She hadn’t told him about the pregnancy yet.

At first, she told herself she’d wait until her first appointment with the OB-GYN to say anything. That appointment had come and gone a week ago… and she still hadn’t said a word.

It scared her. It had always been just the two of them—her and Henry against the world. She didn’t know how he’d react. He was ten now—old enough to understand, but also old enough to realize what the pregnancy meant. Old enough to notice there was no father in the picture.

Some kids at school had already started teasing him about it. He’d come home asking more questions lately, questions Emma didn’t know how to answer. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him the truth yet—that his father was a classmate from high school who ran the moment she told him she was pregnant. One day, she’d tell Henry everything. But not yet. He was still too young.

And at least with Henry, she knew who the father was.

This time? She had no idea.

It had been the night after her birthday. Liz had offered to watch Henry so Emma could go out, let off steam, feel like a person again for a few hours. She went to a club, drank too much, and—well, the rest was a blur. She remembered laughing, dancing… a man, maybe. The next morning, she woke up alone in a motel room. The sheets still smelled like cologne, and there was a note on the pillow: It was a great night.

The room was paid for. There was no name, no number. No way to find him.

And now she was pregnant—with a stranger’s baby.

Emma ran a hand through her hair, letting out a long breath.

How was she supposed to explain all this to her son?

🦢♛

Emma sat behind the counter with a lukewarm cup of coffee and a half-eaten sandwich, staring at the business card she’d been turning over in her hand all morning. Her lunch break was almost over, and the bookstore was quiet—just the soft hum of the heater and the ticking of the old wall clock filling the space.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Liz.

It rang twice before the familiar chipper voice picked up.

“Hey, Em! Everything okay? Is Henry alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” Emma said quickly, already regretting how anxious she must’ve sounded. “I just… needed to talk. Got a minute?”

“For you? Always.” Liz's voice softened. “What’s going on?”

Emma took a deep breath. “So, this woman came by the store this morning. Her name’s Regina Mills, she’s from a town called Storybrooke. She read my book and wants me to come do a meet-and-greet there.”

“Wait— your book? Like, a real event? That’s amazing, Emma!”

“I guess,” Emma said with a dry laugh. “It sounds great, but… I can’t just pack up and leave. I’d have to close the store for a few days. I can’t afford to lose that money right now.”

There was a pause, then Liz replied, “What if you didn’t have to close it?”

Emma blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m off school for winter break, and I have literally nothing to do. I’ve worked here before—you’ve trusted me with Henry, I can handle a bookstore. Let me run the place while you’re gone.”

Emma rubbed her forehead, uncertain. “Liz, that’s really generous, but I can’t pay you much.”

“Who said anything about money?” Liz said, mock-offended. “You gave me a job when no one else would. You let me study behind the register and eat your snacks. And besides, it’s only for a few days, right?”

“Probably a week,” Emma admitted. “She offered to cover travel expenses, and Henry could come with me.”

“Then go, Emma. You deserve this. Let someone say ‘thank you’ for your writing. And honestly? I think a small-town book signing could be exactly the kind of weird Hallmark-y energy your life needs.”

Emma snorted. “Please don’t say Hallmark. You’ll jinx it.”

“So? Maybe it’s time you got a cheesy holiday chapter of your own.”

Emma smiled, feeling lighter than she had all day. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Absolutely,” Liz said. “Just leave me a list, the keys, and access to the secret chocolate stash.”

“You already have the chocolate stash code.”

“Then we’re good!”

Emma looked down at the card in her hand again. Regina Mills, Mayor, Community Organizer.

“Thanks, Liz,” she said quietly. “I really needed this.”

“Anytime. Now go write your next chapter, or pack, or—whatever people do when their books start getting noticed.” On that she hung up, leaving Emma only with her mind.

She knew she should call Regina—ask for more details, maybe even agree to the trip. But first, she had to talk to Henry. About everything.

The trip.
The baby.

It wasn’t fair to bring him along if he wasn’t okay with it. Becoming a big brother was huge news, and she had no idea how he’d take it. What if he was upset? What if he felt like he wasn’t enough anymore?

She couldn’t make any decisions until she talked to him.

🦢♛

That evening, after dinner, Emma found Henry curled up on the couch with her phone, headphones on, humming along to the soundtrack of the cartoon he’s watching.

She sat beside him, gently nudging his leg with her knee. “Hey, bud. Can we talk for a minute?”

Henry paused what he was watching and pulled off his headphones, instantly alert. “Am I in trouble?”

Emma smiled. “No. Not at all. I just… I have something important to tell you.”

He sat up straighter, eyebrows lifting. “Okay. What is it?”

Emma took a breath and reached into the back pocket of her jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to him without a word.

Henry opened it slowly, his eyes widening as he stared at the grainy black-and-white image. “Is this… a baby?”

Emma nodded, her voice soft. “Yeah. It’s an ultrasound picture. I had the appointment last week.”

Henry looked between the image and his mom, eyes full of questions. “You’re having a baby?”

“I am,” she said, hands clasped nervously in her lap. “And I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was scared. It’s always just been the two of us, and I didn’t want you to think that was going to change.”

Henry stared at the photo a moment longer, then held it carefully in both hands. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Emma blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know yet.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Can I still be the big brother if I don’t know?”

Emma let out a breathy laugh, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Of course you can. You’re going to be an amazing big brother, Henry.”

Henry smiled a little and looked back down at the ultrasound. “This is really cool. Can I keep this?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah. It’s a copy. It’s yours if you want it.”

He grinned and carefully folded it, tucking it into the small inner pocket of his hoodie. “I’m gonna bring it with me everywhere. Just in case someone asks.”

She laughed, the tension in her chest easing. “You’re something else, kid.”

Henry looked back up at her. “Are you okay, Mom? You seem… nervous.”

“I am, a little,” she admitted. “But talking to you helped.”

He nodded, then tilted his head. “Was that the only thing you wanted to tell me?”

“Well… no. There’s one more thing.” She hesitated. “You know that book I wrote?”

“Duh,” he said proudly. “I told everyone at school my mom wrote a real book.”

Emma chuckled. “Well, someone from a town called Storybrooke read it—and they invited me to do a book signing there. Like, a real event.”

“Whoa, really?! That’s awesome!”

“She offered to cover travel and everything. I’d love to go, but only if you’re okay with it. We’d have to be away for a couple of days—maybe over the holidays.”

Henry looked thoughtful, then asked, “Can I come with you?”

“Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t go without you.”

“Then let’s do it,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Can we go see the baby section in stores while we’re there?”

Emma blinked, surprised again. “You want to shop for the baby?”

He shrugged. “I mean… if I’m going to be a big brother, I should be prepared.”

Emma pulled him into a hug, heart full. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Henry leaned into her, grinning. “Probably something awesome in a past life.”

🦢♛

Later that night, Emma and Henry curled up on the couch, wrapped in the soft, fraying blanket they’d had since he was a baby. A holiday movie played quietly on the TV—one of the old stop-motion ones they both secretly liked but pretended to make fun of.

Henry rested his head against her shoulder, one hand tucked inside his hoodie pocket where the ultrasound picture now lived.

“Do you think the baby will like Mario Kart?” he asked, his voice sleepy.

Emma smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Eventually. But I think they’ll like you a lot more.”

Henry yawned, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. I’ll teach them the important stuff. Like how to hold the controller… and that pineapple doesn’t go on pizza.”

Emma laughed quietly. “Thanks, big brother. That’ll really shape their future.”

They sat like that in the quiet glow of the TV and the twinkle lights, the world outside fading away. For the first time in days, Emma didn’t feel overwhelmed or uncertain.

She just felt… okay.

Maybe even a little hopeful.

🦢♛

After finally getting Henry to bed—a task that took longer than usual thanks to his excitement over both pieces of news—Emma sat down at the kitchen table and opened her laptop.

She typed out an email to Regina, asking for more details about the event and letting her know she was seriously considering saying yes. She didn’t expect a reply tonight—it was already late—but sending the message felt like a small, solid step forward.

At least now, she couldn’t talk herself out of it overnight.

Chapter Text

The next morning—Saturday—Emma still had to work at the bookstore, so she got up early and went to wake Henry before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Her laptop was still open on the counter from the night before, so while the coffee brewed, she took a moment to check her emails.

She paused when she saw a new message from Regina.

Curious, she clicked it open and began reading just as Henry shuffled into the kitchen and started eating his breakfast at the table.

Dear Emma,

Thank you so much for getting back to me—I'm thrilled to hear you’re open to the idea. I think your presence here would truly mean a lot to our little community (and selfishly, to me as well—your story moved me in a way few books have in a long time).

Here's a bit more information about the event and the trip:

Timing : Ideally, I’d love for you to arrive in Storybrooke a few days before Christmas. We usually have a quiet holiday here, but between Christmas and New Year’s, the town tends to come alive with winter festivities. I’m planning to schedule the meet-and-greet during that week, possibly December 27th or 28th, depending on your availability.

Lodging : I’ve already spoken to the owner of Granny’s Bed & Breakfast (a cozy local favorite), and she’s happy to host you and your son for the entire stay—from just before Christmas through New Year’s Day. I’ll take care of the booking and expenses.

Event Details : The meet-and-greet will be hosted at our town bookstore, The Rabbit Hole. It’s warm, charming, and the perfect size for an intimate Q&A and book signing. We’ll keep it relaxed—just readers, tea, maybe a few pastries, and some space for you to share whatever you feel comfortable with. I’ll be there to help organize everything.

Extras : Storybrooke has a few small-town holiday traditions—caroling, snowman contests, hot cocoa stands. Nothing fancy, but I think your son might enjoy it. And if you’re comfortable with it, we’d love to include you both in our community New Year’s Eve celebration.

Please let me know if these dates work for you, or if you have any questions or concerns. I'm more than happy to adjust where possible to make things comfortable for you and your son.

Looking forward to hearing from you soon—and truly hoping we get to welcome you here.

Warmly,
Regina Mills
Mayor, Storybrooke

After reading the email, Emma looked over at Henry. He was sitting at the table, staring at the ultrasound picture with the kind of intense focus only a kid could have.

She chuckled. “Careful—you’re going to burn a hole in that thing with your eyes.”

“I’m trying to figure out if it’s a boy or a girl,” Henry said seriously. “I need to be ready. Like, do I teach him how to play soccer or basketball? Or do I need to be a super protective big brother for her?”

Emma smiled. “Well, girls can play sports too, you know. And maybe a boy would need a protective big brother just as much.”

Henry nodded, still not taking his eyes off the image.

“Don’t worry,” she added gently. “I’ll tell you as soon as I find out, okay?”

He gave a small grin and finally looked up.

Emma sat down across from him. “So, I got a reply from the woman who invited us to her town for the book event. If we go, we’ll be there for the entire holiday season. Is that okay with you?”

“Are you kidding?” Henry beamed. “Going on vacation for the holidays is the best idea ever!”

Emma laughed. “Alright then, I guess we’re going.” She stood and ruffled his hair. “Now go get ready—we have to be at the bookstore in half an hour.”

🦢♛

Later that day, Emma confirmed to Liz that she’d be going to Storybrooke for the holidays, then replied to Regina’s email to officially accept the invitation.

Henry, meanwhile, was practically bouncing off the walls. His birthday was coming up, he was going to be a big brother, and now he had a holiday trip to look forward to—nothing could have made an almost ten-year-old boy happier.

Watching him so full of excitement made Emma smile. Seeing him happy made her happy too.

🦢♛

Over the next two weeks, Henry couldn’t stop talking about the trip. His excitement slowed down a little after his birthday—mostly because he finally got his Nintendo Switch and spent hours playing Mario Kart. He played alone most of the time, since Emma couldn’t afford a Nintendo Online subscription, but whenever she had a spare moment—not working or writing—she’d join him for a few races, usually letting him win.

Meanwhile, Emma began preparing for the trip. She did some research on how authors typically handle meet-and-greets, wanting to make a good impression on her first real fans.

Her editor continued to send weekly updates about the book’s sales. The best week so far had seen ten copies sold—not bad, but not life-changing. There had been more purchases during the launch week, though Emma didn’t really count those; some people just buy books because they’re new, not because they actually care.

She also started looking into Storybrooke. It wasn’t a well-known town, but it did have a website—basic but informative. Emma read everything she could, wanting to know exactly where she and Henry would be spending their holidays.

🦢♛

The day of their departure arrived sooner than Emma expected. The morning was cold and crisp, the kind that hinted snow might fall before the day was over. She and Henry loaded their bags into the trunk of her old yellow Volkswagen Bug, which groaned a little under the weight but held everything—barely.

It was just over a three-hour drive to Storybrooke, and Emma, knowing how restless Henry could get, had agreed to let him play on his Nintendo Switch during the ride. That plan worked wonderfully—until about halfway there, when the battery died.

The next hour and half was filled with a relentless chorus of “Are we there yet?” from the back seat.

“Not yet,” Emma said for what felt like the hundredth time, gripping the steering wheel with a tired smile.

Eventually, the small, coastal town of Storybrooke came into view—snow-dusted streets, quaint storefronts, and the kind of peaceful charm Emma had only ever seen in postcards. Henry pressed his face to the window, wide-eyed.

“Whoa… is this all one town?” he asked, amazed. “It’s so small.”

“Welcome to small-town America,” Emma said with a grin.

Regina had told her to meet at Granny’s Diner, which wasn’t hard to find. In fact, it sat right in the heart of Main Street. It was also where the attached bed and breakfast—Granny’s B&B—was located, their home for the next week or so.

Emma parked the car, glanced at her son. “Ready?”

Henry nodded, already bouncing with energy again.

They stepped into the diner, a bell above the door jingling as they entered. The place was warm, cozy, and smelled like fresh pie and coffee. Emma scanned the room and immediately spotted Regina at a corner table, dressed in a sleek winter coat and sipping what looked like tea.

Taking a breath and brushing a bit of snow off her shoulders, Emma walked over, Henry right at her side.

“Hello, Miss Mills,” she said, smiling brightly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Regina stood as they approached, her smile warm and welcoming. “Emma, it’s wonderful to see you again. And you must be Henry,” she added, turning her attention to the boy beside her.

“That’s me,” Henry said, offering his hand with zero hesitation. “Are you the mayor and the one who read my mom’s book?”

Regina chuckled as she shook his hand. “Guilty on both counts.”

“Do you run the whole town?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was sizing her up.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Henry…”

“It’s alright,” Regina said, amused. “Technically, yes—I’m the mayor. But Storybrooke kind of runs itself most of the time. I just make sure the snow gets cleared and the Christmas tree doesn’t fall over.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “That’s cool. Do you live in a big house like in the movies? With a fireplace and a secret study?”

“Not quite that dramatic,” Regina said with a laugh. “But I do have a fireplace. No secret study though—unfortunately.”

Henry seemed mildly disappointed by that, but he bounced back quickly. “Do you have any kids?”

“Henry,” Emma warned again, but Regina didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“No, I don’t,” Regina replied gently. “But I work with a lot of families in town, so I guess I have about fifty honorary kids who keep me busy.”

Henry nodded again, satisfied. “Okay. Just checking. My mom’s having a baby, so I’m gonna be a big brother. I need to know how other grown-ups measure up.”

Regina blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she smiled again. “Well, congratulations. That’s a big deal.”

“Yeah,” Henry said proudly, tapping the pocket where his ultrasound copy was tucked away. “I’ve got proof and everything.”

Emma gave Regina an apologetic smile. “Sorry. He’s... not really shy.”

“No need to apologize,” Regina said, waving it off. “I find honesty refreshing.”

A waitress, with “Ruby” on her nametag, came by and handed Emma a room key. “You’re all set in Room 3,” she said. “Top of the stairs, to the left.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, taking the key.

Regina gestured to the booth. “Do you want to sit and grab a warm drink before settling in?”

Emma glanced at Henry, who was already sliding into the booth like he owned the place. She laughed. “I guess that’s a yes.”

Regina smiled, her eyes lingering on Emma a moment longer than necessary. “Good. Then welcome to Storybrooke.”

As the waitress returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and a coffee for Emma, Regina leaned in slightly, her voice soft with genuine interest. “How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” Emma said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Though Henry’s Switch died halfway, and I had to survive an hour and half of ‘Are we there yet?’ on repeat.”

Regina smiled, glancing over at Henry. “Tough crowd.”

Henry shrugged, unapologetic. “You try sitting still for two hours with nothing . It was a video game emergency.”

“Well,” Regina said with a mock-serious nod, “we have Wi-Fi at Granny’s. Not the fastest in the world, but decent enough to keep a ten-year-old entertained. And there’s a small arcade down the street if you get really desperate.”

“Cool,” Henry said, eyes lighting up. “Can I go check it out later?”

“We’ll see,” Emma said quickly, shooting him a look. “After we unpack and settle in.”

Henry sank back in his seat but looked satisfied for now.

Emma turned back to Regina. “Speaking of settling in… I wanted to ask a couple things about the event. Just logistics—what you expect, how long it’ll be, if I should prepare something more than signing books and answering questions?”

“Of course,” Regina said, taking a small planner from her bag and flipping it open. “We’ve set aside the 27th for the meet and greet. It’ll be at the library’s community hall, which is a cozy space, nothing too intimidating. We’re expecting maybe twenty or thirty people—locals mostly, some who already read your book, some who just want to meet the author who’s shaking up their little town.”

Emma chuckled. “Shaking up, huh? I’ve never even done a real event like this.”

“You’ll do great,” Regina said confidently. “Just be yourself. You could read an excerpt, if you’d like. Answer questions, sign books. I’ll be there to help coordinate everything.”

Emma exhaled, half-laughing. “Okay. That sounds manageable. And thank you—for organizing all this. I don’t exactly get many opportunities like this.”

Regina’s expression softened. “You’re welcome. You deserve the spotlight, even if it’s just for a little while.”

Henry glanced between them, clearly sensing something adult and unspoken. “So... do I have to go to the book thing? Or can I hang out somewhere else during it?”

Regina gave him a playful look. “If you’d rather not hear your mom talk about girls kissing in snowy cafes, I’m sure we can find something else for you to do.”

“Wait,” Henry said with a dramatic groan. “Is that in the book?”

Emma smirked over her mug. “You’ll find out when you’re old enough to read it.”

Henry let out a sigh and slumped dramatically against the booth. “Worst vacation ever,” he muttered, grinning.

Regina laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t worry, Henry. Storybrooke has more than romance novels. There’s sledding, snowmen, a holiday scavenger hunt, and I believe Santa makes an appearance downtown next week.”

Henry perked up. “Okay, fine. Maybe not the worst vacation.”

Emma smiled at the sight of him relaxing, then glanced over at Regina, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. For the first time in a long time, this Christmas might not be so bad after all.

Henry was now completely absorbed in a conversation with the waitress, animatedly pointing at the dessert menu and asking whether the hot chocolate came with extra whipped cream. Emma watched him for a moment with a soft smile before turning her attention back to Regina.

“You know,” Regina said gently, lowering her voice, “you could’ve brought your partner too. It wouldn’t have been a problem at all.”

Emma blinked, then let out a small laugh. “Oh—no, I don’t have a partner.”

Regina looked slightly taken aback. “I’m sorry. I just assumed… since Henry mentioned you were expecting, I figured there was someone in the picture. My mistake.”

Emma shook her head, a little amused. “Don’t worry about it. Henry is... well, he’s very chatty. He doesn’t always realize there are things you don’t just blurt out to strangers.”

Regina smiled, glancing toward the boy who was now bargaining for extra marshmallows. “Yes, I picked up on that.”

Emma chuckled. “He’s excited. And curious. I guess that’s a good mix for a kid.”

Regina nodded, then offered a warm smile. “Why don’t you two go settle into your room? I’ve asked Granny to prepare the best one we have—it’s quiet, lots of sunlight. Later this afternoon, I can show you around town, if you’d like. Just something informal.”

“That sounds nice,” Emma said, grateful for the calm kindness in Regina’s voice. She finished the last sip of her coffee, then turned to Henry. “Hey kiddo, time to grab our bags.”

Henry hopped off the stool with the kind of energy only sugar and new places could fuel. “Do they have waffles here?” he asked Regina as he joined them. “Because I think waffles should be involved in this vacation.”

Regina laughed softly. “You’re in luck. Granny makes the best waffles in town.”

“Then this might be the best vacation ever,” Henry declared as he followed Emma toward the front door.

Emma looked back at Regina with a grateful smile. “Thanks again. For everything.”

Regina simply nodded. “It’s my pleasure, Emma. I’m glad you’re here.”

🦢♛

The room at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast was cozier than Emma expected. The walls were painted a soft cream, with old-fashioned floral curtains framing the window. A queen bed sat in the center, and a pull-out sofa had already been made up with fresh linens and a folded quilt at the foot.

Emma dropped her bags just inside the door and let out a long breath. “Well, not bad, right?”

Henry flopped down on the sofa bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress. “This place smells like pancakes and pine trees. I love it.”

Emma chuckled and walked to the window, drawing the curtains open. Snow had just started to fall again, light flakes drifting lazily over the quiet street below. The view was quaint, peaceful—nothing like Boston.

As she started to unpack a few things from her bag, she glanced over at Henry. He had already pulled out the ultrasound photo from his backpack and propped it up against the lamp on the nightstand like it was a framed family portrait.

“Hey, bud,” she said gently. “Can we talk for a second?”

Henry looked up, curious.

“I just wanted to ask you something.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re really excited about the baby—and I’m glad you are—but maybe don’t tell everyone right away, okay?”

“Why not?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Aren’t people gonna be happy for you?”

“Some people, sure. But others might ask questions,” Emma said carefully.

Henry tilted his head. “Questions about our fathers?”

Emma hesitated for a second. The way he said it—so casually—made her heart ache. She gave him a soft smile and nodded. “Yeah. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Not yet.”

Henry shrugged a little, thoughtful. “Okay. I won’t tell anyone unless you say it’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, brushing his hair gently off his forehead. “And I promise—someday, when you’re older, I’ll tell you everything. About your dad, and the baby’s too. Just… not now. Is that alright?”

Henry gave a small, understanding nod. “Yeah. I get it.” Then, after a beat, he added with a grin, “But I’m still gonna tell people I’m on vacation in a cool snowy town where they have waffles and I might become a big brother.”

Emma laughed, pulling him into a hug. “Fair enough.”

They stayed like that for a moment, surrounded by the soft quiet of the room and the muffled hush of falling snow outside. For the first time in a long while, Emma felt like maybe—just maybe—things were going to be okay.

🦢♛

Later that afternoon, the snow had settled in soft piles along the sidewalks and rooftops, casting Storybrooke in a postcard-worthy winter glow. Emma and Henry bundled up in their coats and met Regina just outside Granny’s.

“Ready for the grand tour?” Regina asked, slipping on a pair of leather gloves.

Henry nodded enthusiastically. “Do we get to see the arcade?”

Regina smirked. “That’s on the list.”

Their first stop was the Storybrooke Public Library, a stately brick building with tall arched windows and a large wooden door. Inside, it smelled like old books and cinnamon. A petite brunette with a kind smile met them near the entrance.

“This is Belle,” Regina introduced. “She’s the head librarian—and she’s hosting your meet-and-greet, Emma.”

Belle extended her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you. I loved your book. We’re setting up a cozy area near the fireplace for your event. It'll be small, but really special.”

Emma felt a little flutter of nerves in her stomach but smiled warmly. “Thanks. That sounds… really nice.”

Belle turned to Henry and smiled. “You’re welcome to hang out in the kids’ corner anytime. We’ve got a few beanbags and a decent comic book collection.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Awesome!”

From the library, they wandered through the snow-dusted streets. Regina pointed out the town’s landmarks as they passed: the quaint little bakery run by a couple named Ashley and Sean, the cozy flower shop, and even a small movie theater with only one screen.

They arrived at the arcade next—a low, buzzing hub of neon lights and laughter tucked beside a toy store. As soon as they walked in, Henry was drawn to the pinball machines like a moth to flame.

“I’ll give you a few quarters to start,” Regina said with a smile, handing him a small coin pouch. “We’ll be right outside.”

As Henry ran off with a gleeful shout, Emma gave Regina a surprised look. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Regina said simply. “Let him enjoy it.”

After Henry had his fill of games, they moved on to the town park. Though most of it was covered in snow, there were lights strung through the trees and a little wooden gazebo in the center where someone had started building a snowman.

“This is where we hold our holiday concerts,” Regina explained. “And sometimes craft fairs or community potlucks.”

Henry flopped backward into a snowbank, arms and legs flailing. “I'm making a snow angel!”

Their next stop was the local animal shelter. Inside, the barking of excited dogs filled the air, and a few volunteers waved from behind the front desk.

“We do a Christmas adoption fair here every year,” Regina said. “Let me know if Henry falls in love with anyone—we’ll figure something out.”

Emma raised a brow, amused. “You’re already offering me a puppy?”

“Not a puppy,” Henry said from behind her, peering into a kennel. “That one looks like an old man in a dog suit. I love him.”

Emma laughed. “Let’s visit him again before we leave.”

As they stepped outside, they bumped into a smiling couple walking hand in hand.

“Emma, Henry—this is David Nolan and Mary-Margaret Blanchard,” Regina introduced. “David’s a deputy at the sheriff’s station, and Mary-Margaret teaches first grade at Storybrooke Elementary.”

Mary-Margaret greeted them with a bright, genuine smile. “It’s so lovely to meet you! I’ve heard such great things.”

David nodded in agreement. “If you need anything while you’re here, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Henry leaned toward his mom and whispered, “They look like they just stepped out of a Christmas movie.”

Emma smirked. “You’re not wrong.”

They continued walking, and Regina pointed to the stately brick building near the center of town. “That’s Town Hall, where I work. If you ever need a quiet place to write or just want to sit in on some mind-numbing budget meetings—my door’s open.”

“Tempting,” Emma teased.

Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, they reached the end of a long, winding drive that led to a grand house nestled among frosted trees.

“This is my home,” Regina said, pausing at the gate. The mansion stood tall and elegant, the windows glowing warmly. “If you need anything while you’re here—or if Henry gets bored of you—you’re welcome to stop by.”

Henry grinned. “Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Always,” Regina replied, eyes twinkling.

They made their way back to Granny’s, snow crunching under their boots. The town had started to light up for the evening—twinkle lights in every window, wreaths on every door.

“Thanks for the tour,” Emma said quietly. “It’s… really beautiful here.”

Regina glanced sideways at her. “I’m glad you think so.”

As they reached the B&B, Henry stretched and yawned theatrically. “Best day ever.”

Emma smiled down at him, then up at Regina. “I think he means it.”

🦢♛

That night, after Henry had fallen asleep—curled up with the ultrasound photo under his pillow—Emma stood by the window of their room at Granny’s, looking out at the quiet, snow-covered street. The town felt like something out of a dream, too quaint, too peaceful. But for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was just passing through someone else’s story.

She was nervous, sure—about the event, the baby, the future—but beneath all that, something softer had started to settle in her chest. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the beginning of something new.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Emma had planned to spend it entirely with Henry. They were going to start with a nice breakfast together—Regina was covering all their expenses after all—then head out for some outdoor activities. They didn’t have anyone to celebrate the holiday with, but Emma had hoped to make the day special in their own way.

But that was before the morning sickness hit—hard.

She hadn’t expected it. When she was pregnant with Henry, she hadn’t been sick at all, so she assumed this pregnancy would be the same. After all, she was already into her second trimester. But clearly, every pregnancy was different.

Curled on the bathroom floor, Emma tried to ride it out between bouts of nausea. Not wanting Henry to see her like that, she had sent him down to breakfast alone.

🦢♛

She must have dozed off at some point, because a knock on the door startled her awake. Groaning, she pushed herself up and went to answer it, assuming Henry had forgotten his key.

But it wasn’t Henry. It was Regina.

As always, Regina was perfectly put together in a sharp skirt suit, and in her hands she held two to-go cups.

“What can I do for you, Miss Mills?” Emma asked, her voice hoarse from vomiting and laced with exhaustion.

Regina’s expression softened. “I saw Henry having breakfast alone downstairs. He said you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d bring you something that might help.” She held out the cups. “Ginger ale and apple juice. My sister swore by them when she had morning sickness.”

Emma blinked, surprised by the gesture—and a little touched.

"Thanks," She said, stepping aside to let Regina into the room. She took both cups and sipped the ginger ale cautiously. Almost immediately, she felt her stomach begin to settle.

Regina glanced around, taking in the slightly messy room with a sympathetic eye. "Why don't you get some rest? I can take care of Henry for a while."

Emma shook her head lightly. "Oh no, I don’t want to bother you. I’ll be fine in a bit, really."

Regina raised an eyebrow, her voice gentle but firm. "Not to offend you, but you look exhausted. And it’s no trouble—I promise. Henry’s a good kid, and I think he enjoys asking me too many questions." She offered a small smile. "You can rest and join us later, whenever you're feeling up to it. You have my number."

Emma hesitated, the stubborn part of her wanting to protest again—but her body was already swaying with fatigue. She sighed and nodded. "Okay. Just… don’t let him talk your ear off."

Regina chuckled. "I think I’ll survive. Take care of yourself, Emma. You've got a long week ahead."

With that, she gave Emma a reassuring nod and headed out to find Henry, leaving the door softly closing behind her. Emma set the apple juice on the nightstand, crawled back under the covers, and let herself drift off—this time, with a little peace.

🦢♛

Regina had taken Henry for a walk through Storybrooke. Snow had fallen steadily through the night, blanketing the town in white. Everything looked fresh and magical, and Henry was thrilled by it. The moment they reached the park, he spotted a group of kids building snowmen.

“Miss Mayor? Can I go play with them?” Henry asked, pointing toward the group.

“You can call me Regina,” she replied with a smile. “And yes, go ahead. I’ll be right here.”

Regina settled onto a nearby bench, watching him run off excitedly. She’d always loved children—something gentle stirred in her every time she saw them laugh or play. But life hadn't worked out the way she'd imagined. She couldn’t have children of her own, and adoption hadn’t been an option—not without a partner, not with the life she led.

Still, moments like these brought a quiet joy. Watching Henry make snowmen and instantly click with the other children warmed her heart more than she expected.

A while later, Henry came running back, his cheeks pink from the cold, eyes wide with urgency.

“Regina! Come quick—I found something!”

He took her hand and pulled her toward a large tree with a hollow at its base. Inside the hole, nestled in the shadows, was a tiny white kitten, curled up and shivering.

“I think it’s cold,” Henry whispered.

Regina crouched beside him, inspecting the kitten. “Poor thing,” she murmured. “Did you see any other cats around?”

Henry shook his head. “Just this one.”

Gently, she reached in and picked up the kitten. Its fur was soft, but its little body was icy. She cradled it against her coat, trying to warm it up.

“My house is close. We’ll get it a blanket and some food,” she said.

As they started walking, Henry glanced up at her hopefully. “Do you think you could keep it? Mom always says we can’t have pets in our tiny apartment... but you live in a big house, all alone.”

Regina chuckled softly. “We’ll see. Maybe someone’s missing it. But for now, I’ll take care of it.”

Henry smiled, satisfied, and stayed close as they made their way to her home—both of them wrapped in the quiet magic of an unexpected Christmas Eve.

🦢♛

Henry was wide-eyed as he stepped into Regina’s house. From the outside, it looked big—but inside, it was even more impressive. Everything was spotless, elegant, and organized in a way that felt both grand and cozy.

“Wow,” he murmured, following Regina into the living room.

She pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and gently wrapped the tiny kitten in it, placing her near the fireplace. The soft glow of the flames bathed the room in warmth. Henry knelt beside the kitten and began stroking her little head, careful not to disturb her too much.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked as Regina returned from the kitchen carrying a small bowl of warm milk.

“She looks like a girl,” Regina replied, placing the bowl near the kitten, who immediately began lapping at it, though a bit clumsily.

“I’m going to call her Snowflake,” Henry said proudly. “Because we found her in the snow and she’s white.”

Regina smiled. “That’s a perfect name. Now—how about some hot chocolate?”

Henry lit up and nodded eagerly.

A few minutes later, Regina returned with two steaming mugs, topped with whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon. She motioned for Henry to join her on the couch and handed him one of the mugs.

He took a sip, then looked up at her with wide eyes. “This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had!”

Regina chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you think so.”

“Everything’s better here,” Henry added, more quietly.

She tilted her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“Everything’s prettier here. And the kids are nicer than in Boston,” he said, his voice softening. “Back home… I don’t really have friends. Most kids at my school make fun of me because I don’t have a dad.”

Regina’s heart tightened at his honesty.

“But earlier at the park, the kids just played with me. No questions. No weird looks.”

“Does your mom know about this?” Regina asked gently.

Henry shook his head. “No. She already has so much to worry about. And it was really hard for her to get me into that school… I don’t want her to think it was a mistake.”

Regina was about to respond when a soft knock echoed from the front door. She’d nearly forgotten she’d texted Emma to let her know where they were.

She got up and opened the door, finding Emma standing on the porch. She still looked pale, but definitely better than that morning.

“Hey,” Regina greeted. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, much better. Thanks for watching Henry,” Emma said, stepping inside. Her eyes drifted around the space, taking in the warm interior. “You’ve got a beautiful house.”

“Thank you.”

Before Regina could say more, a blur of energy launched itself across the room.

“Moooom!” Henry cried, running into her arms and squeezing her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better—we had so much fun. I found a cat!”

Emma chuckled, hugging him back. “Whoa, slow down, buddy. You found a cat?”

“Yeah! Come see.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the fireplace, where Snowflake was curled up peacefully in the blanket. “This is Snowflake. Regina said she’ll keep her.”

Regina raised a hand gently. “I said I’d take care of her for now—at least until we see if anyone’s missing her. If not… well, we’ll see.”

Emma looked at her, amused. “So my son brought you a kitten, huh?”

Regina smirked. “It seems so.”

Emma smiled, watching Snowflake snore softly by the fire, and then looked at Henry’s glowing face—so full of excitement and comfort. Her heart swelled a little.

“Well… it seems like we’re all making unexpected connections this Christmas.”

Regina returned from the kitchen with a fresh mug of hot chocolate for Emma, topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Now, the three of them were settled comfortably on her couch—Henry curled up at one end, sipping his drink, while Emma sat across from Regina.

“So,” Regina began, folding one leg over the other, “what are your plans for tonight?”

Emma shrugged lightly. “Nothing too exciting. We’ll probably grab dinner at Granny’s, maybe pick up some cookies, and watch a couple of Christmas movies before heading to bed.”

Regina tilted her head. “That sounds nice… but if you find yourselves getting bored, I’ll be hosting a Christmas Eve party at the Town Hall. It’s a little fancy—mostly my mother’s influence—but I’d be happy to have you both there. You could meet my sister and my niece.”

Emma smiled politely, shaking her head. “That’s kind of you, but we don’t want to intrude. And I’m not sure we’d fit in at that kind of party.”

“Well,” Regina replied with a small smirk, “if you change your mind, my tailor is more than ready to put together outfits for you both. And, as I’ve said before, I’m taking care of everything.”

Emma let out a soft chuckle, touched despite herself. “Thanks, Miss Mills. We’ll think about it.” She set her now-empty mug on the coffee table. “But I think we’ll leave you to it—you’ve got a party to prepare for.”

Regina stood to walk them to the door. “I’ll see you both later, whether it’s at Granny’s or at Town Hall.”

Henry grinned, giving Snowflake one last scratch behind the ears. “Bye, Regina. Bye, Snowflake!”

Emma smiled as they stepped outside, the crisp winter air nipping at her cheeks. “Thanks again,” she said over her shoulder.

Regina simply nodded, her expression unreadable but her tone warm. “You’re welcome, Emma.”

The door closed softly behind them, leaving the faint scent of cinnamon and the quiet crackle of the fireplace lingering in Emma’s mind all the way back to Granny’s.

🦢♛

Back at Granny’s, Emma and Henry sat in their usual booth, the smell of fresh pie drifting from the kitchen. Henry was busy demolishing a plate of fries, but his mind clearly wasn’t on the food.

“Mom,” he said between bites, “can we go to Regina’s party tonight?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were looking forward to Christmas movies.”

“I am… but she said I could meet her niece, right? Robin? She’s my age. And it sounds kind of cool to see the Town Hall all fancy for Christmas.” He hesitated before adding, “Plus… we don’t really do big Christmas Eve stuff. Maybe it could be fun this time.”

Emma leaned back in her seat, sipping her coffee. She wasn’t usually one for formal events, especially ones hosted by mayors with probably more champagne than hot chocolate. But the way Henry’s eyes lit up made her pause. She’d been telling herself this trip was about making memories for him—and this could be one.

“You really want to go?” she asked.

Henry nodded enthusiastically. “We can still watch a movie after, right?”

Emma smirked. “If we’re not too tired, sure.”

After a beat of thought, she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message to Regina: If the offer still stands, we’ll be there tonight.

The reply came almost instantly: Wonderful. I’ll send my tailor to Granny’s within the hour.

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Henry grinned. “Best Christmas Eve ever.”

🦢♛

Later that afternoon, Emma and Henry stood in their room, their new outfits neatly hanging on them. The tailor had just left, leaving behind the faint scent of fabric chalk and perfume.

Emma faced the full-length mirror, smoothing her hands down the sides of her dress. It fit perfectly—maybe too perfectly. The soft, form-fitting fabric traced every curve, including the slight swell of her stomach. She wasn’t sure if she liked that or not; she hadn’t exactly been broadcasting her pregnancy to strangers.

Before she could sink too far into her thoughts, Henry came over in his crisp little suit, looking every bit like he was about to accept an award. Without a word, he placed his small hand on her belly, his face glowing with a mixture of awe and pride.

“We can see my little sibling,” he said with a wide grin. “When will we be able to feel him—or her—moving?”

Emma smiled, touched by his excitement. “You’ll have to wait a few more months, kiddo. He or she has to grow a bit before you can feel the kicks from the outside.”

Henry nodded, clearly filing that information away. “Do you think they’ll like Mario Kart?”

Emma laughed. “If they take after you, they’ll be a pro before they can even walk.”

Henry’s eyes lit up with the thought, and he spun away toward the bed to grab his shoes. “We’re going to look so fancy, Mom. Regina’s not gonna know what hit her.”

Emma glanced at herself in the mirror again. This time, instead of focusing on the small bump, she noticed the spark in her eyes—maybe a mix of nerves and anticipation. Tonight wasn’t just another quiet Christmas Eve. It was something different. Maybe even the start of something new.

🦢♛

Emma and Henry hadn’t known exactly what to expect when Regina invited them to the Christmas Eve party—but the moment they stepped inside the town hall, they realized “fancy” had been an understatement.

Golden garlands wound around the tall white columns, crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the air smelled faintly of cinnamon and pine. The polished floor gleamed under the warm light, and a string quartet played softly in the corner.

A sharply dressed attendant took their coats the moment they walked in, leaving them to take in the room. That’s when they spotted Regina.

She stood near the center of the hall, speaking to a small group. She was wearing a stunning red dress—the exact same shade as Emma’s. The cut was different, but the effect was striking; they looked as if they had coordinated. Emma couldn’t tell if it was a coincidence, the tailor’s choice, or a deliberate move on Regina’s part.

“Hey, you two,” Regina greeted them warmly as she approached. “You both look incredible.”

“Yeah! I even have a bow tie,” Henry said proudly, puffing out his chest.

“I see that, Henry,” Regina replied with a smile. “Why don’t you go explore? My niece should be here somewhere, and I’m sure you’ll find other kids to play with.”

Henry nodded eagerly and trotted off toward a group of children near the dessert table.

“I’m glad you came,” Regina said, turning her attention back to Emma.

“Well, Henry wanted to meet new people,” Emma replied. “And it’s hard to say no to him when he gets that look.”

Regina linked her arm with Emma’s. “Come on, I want you to meet some people.”

She led Emma to the drinks table first, pouring a sparkling amber liquid into a glass and handing it to her. “It’s ginger ale—everything here is non-alcoholic. The bar with stronger stuff is on the other side of the room, but I doubt I’ll find you there.”

Emma smiled faintly. “You’d be right about that.”

Regina began guiding her through the crowd, introducing her to town officials, shop owners, and a few of Regina’s friends. Emma was halfway through another polite conversation when she glanced across the room—

And froze.

Two familiar faces stood near the far wall. Henry’s father. And the man she’d slept with on her birthday.

Regina felt Emma’s steps falter beside her and turned, brows knitting.

“Emma? Is something wrong?”

But Emma didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on something—or rather, on someone—across the room.

Following her gaze, Regina quickly spotted the cause. Standing near the far wall, deep in conversation, were two men she recognized all too well: Neal Gold, son of the wealthiest man in Storybrooke, and Killian Jones, the dark-haired, sharp-smiled man Neal had brought back with him from his last trip to Boston.

Regina’s gaze flicked back to Emma, noting the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her hand tightened around her glass.

“You know them,” Regina said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Emma’s jaw worked, but for a moment she said nothing. The hum of conversation around them seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding in her ears. Neal was Henry’s father. And Killian—Killian was the man she’d woken up next to after her last birthday, the man she’d been certain she’d never see again.

And now here they were, in the same room, at Regina’s Christmas Eve party.

The moment Neal and Killian caught Emma’s gaze, she knew she was in trouble. Recognition flickered in both their eyes, and without hesitation, they started making their way toward her and Regina.

Emma fought the urge to bolt. Her mind raced—hopefully neither of them would notice the small swell of her stomach. If they did, she could just say she’d eaten too much at dinner.

“Emma!” Neal greeted her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a long way from Boston.”

“I’m on a business trip,” Emma replied coolly.

Killian’s gaze dropped to the glass in her hand. “Strange… a few months ago, I remember you drinking things stronger than ginger ale.” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it.

“I have responsibilities tonight,” Emma said, her own smile just as fake.

Before the conversation could get more uncomfortable, Henry appeared, full of energy and completely unaware of the tension.

“Mom!” he said, running to her. “You have to meet Robin—she’s so cool! She said she knows how to use a bow and arrow.”

Emma’s expression softened instantly. “I’m a bit busy right now, buddy. Why don’t you go back and play with Robin? I’ll come see you when I’m done.”

Henry glanced around, noticed the two men, and gave an apologetic smile. “Oh… sorry, Mom.” Then he darted back to Robin.

“That’s your ‘responsibility’?” Neal asked, one brow raised.

“Yeah,” Emma said evenly. “When you’re mature, you know how to handle it.” She gave him a pointed look before glancing at Killian. “And as for you… we’ll need to talk. Not now, but soon enough.”

Without waiting for a response, Emma looped her arm through Regina’s and steered her away from the men.

“Sorry about that,” Emma muttered once they were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” Regina said, though curiosity gleamed in her eyes. “But can I ask… how do you know Neal Gold?”

“We went to high school together. He’s… Henry’s father.”

“Oh.” Regina’s voice lowered. “Does he know?”

“Yeah. But when I told him I was pregnant, he ran. Couldn’t handle the idea of being disowned for knocking up a teenage girl. A few weeks later, he sent me legal papers—signed away all parental rights.”

Regina’s lips thinned. “That sounds like Neal. His father’s the richest man in Storybrooke, but Neal lived with his mother until he turned eighteen. I suppose that explains a lot.” She hesitated. “And what about Killian Jones?”

Emma blinked. “That’s his name? Killian Jones?”

Regina nodded. “Apparently he’s Neal’s friend. Neal brought him here after his last trip to Boston.”

Emma exhaled slowly. “Well… I spent one night with him. On my birthday. Liz, the girl who babysits Henry, gave me the night off, and I… made a careless decision. Didn’t know his name. Barely remembered his face—until today.”

Regina’s eyes widened. “So… he’s the baby’s father?”

Emma nodded once, her jaw tightening.

Regina took a slow breath, studying Emma’s face.

“That’s… a lot to deal with,” she said finally. There was no judgment in her voice, only something warmer, steadier. “I’m sorry you have to navigate all this, especially with them both here tonight.”

Emma gave a half-smile, though her eyes still held tension. “I’ve handled worse.”

“I know,” Regina said softly. “But you don’t always have to handle it alone.”

Before Emma could answer, Henry came bouncing back toward them, Robin trailing shyly behind.

“Mom! This is Robin. Robin, this is my mom.”

Robin gave a polite smile, her green eyes bright with curiosity. “Hi, Miss Swan.”

Emma crouched a little to meet her eye level. “Hi, Robin. Henry’s been telling me how cool you are with a bow and arrow.”

Robin’s cheeks pinked. “It’s just practice. Aunt Regina says if I keep training, I’ll be as good as my mom one day.”

Regina’s expression softened as she placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Robin, why don’t you show Henry the dessert table? I think there’s chocolate cake.”

The kids took off instantly, leaving the two women alone again.

Emma straightened, letting out a quiet chuckle. “She’s sweet. You’ve got quite a family.”

Regina tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Emma a moment longer than necessary. “And maybe… so do you.”

Something unspoken passed between them then—a small, delicate moment of connection amid the noise of the party. Emma’s lips curved into the faintest smile, and Regina returned it, her hand brushing lightly against Emma’s arm as they turned to watch Henry and Robin laughing together across the room.

🦢♛

The party slowly began to wind down, the music softening and the chatter thinning as guests collected their coats. Henry returned to Emma’s side with Robin in tow, still animatedly talking about archery and snowball fights. Regina smiled, promising Robin she’d see her soon, and gently ushered Henry toward the door.

The winter air outside was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine from the decorated lampposts lining Main Street. Snow crunched under their boots as they made their way toward Granny’s. Henry walked ahead a few steps, kicking at the snow and humming a Christmas tune under his breath.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Emma said quietly, glancing at Regina. “It was… better than I expected.”

“I’m glad,” Regina replied, her tone warm but restrained. “You fit in more than you think.”

Emma smirked faintly. “Even in a matching dress?”

Regina’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Especially in a matching dress.”

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence until Granny’s neon sign came into view. Regina stopped just outside the entrance, watching Henry dash inside toward the smell of pie.

“Merry Christmas, Emma,” she said softly.

Emma hesitated for a heartbeat before answering. “Merry Christmas, Regina.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer, something lingering and unspoken between them, before Regina turned back into the snowy night.

Chapter Text

The next morning was Christmas Day, but for Emma and Henry, there was no gift exchange. Henry had already gotten his Nintendo Switch a few weeks earlier—his combined birthday and Christmas present—and he was perfectly fine with that.

Emma, on the other hand, woke up feeling sick again. She sent Henry downstairs to have breakfast at Granny’s on his own, planning to rest a little longer. She certainly didn’t expect another knock at her door.

“Hey, Regina,” Emma greeted, opening the door. She wasn’t sure when she’d stopped calling her Miss Mills, but she remembered it starting sometime during the party the night before.

“Hello, Emma,” Regina said, holding out a familiar cup. “I thought you might like some ginger ale.”

“Thanks.” Emma took it and sipped, feeling the cool fizz settle her stomach. “How did you know?”

“I saw Henry downstairs, alone—just like yesterday,” Regina replied. “He told me you weren’t doing anything this morning, and that he wanted to see Snowflake. So, I thought you might join my sister, my niece, and me for our gift exchange at my house.”

“Oh, right—Snowflake,” Emma said with a faint smile. “The kitten. I almost forgot about her. But I don’t want to intrude on your family celebration.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Regina assured her. “And I have things for you and Henry.”

Emma shook her head. “No, Regina, I can’t accept that. I don’t have anything for you in return.”

“I don’t care, Emma. Come on—Henry really wants to play with Robin again.”

Regina’s knowing look made Emma sigh. She knew that bringing Henry into it would tip the scales.

“Okay,” Emma relented. “But let me finish the ginger ale and change first.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emma stepped out of her room dressed in her usual style—skinny jeans, a tank top, and her signature red leather jacket. Regina was waiting in the hallway with Henry, who had clearly already joined her.

“Ready to go?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded, and the three of them headed out toward Regina’s mansion.

The short walk was filled with Henry’s endless questions about Snowflake—what she liked to eat, how old she might be, whether she’d need toys—and Regina answered each one with patient detail.

🦢♛

When they arrived, the front door opened to the warm scent of pine and cinnamon. Inside, Zelena was arranging a pile of gifts under the tall, perfectly decorated Christmas tree, while Robin sat on the rug near the fireplace, gently dangling a ribbon for Snowflake to bat at.

“Henry!” Robin called excitedly, dropping the ribbon to wave at him.

“Hey, Robin!” Henry grinned, immediately heading over to join her on the floor, his hands already reaching to pet the kitten.

Zelena glanced up from her work and smiled politely at Emma. “You must be Emma. Regina’s told me a little about you.”

Emma returned the smile, stepping further inside. “And you must be Zelena. Nice to meet you.”

“Come, sit,” Regina said, gesturing toward the cozy sofa. “We’ll have some cocoa before we start.”

Emma sank into the cushions, feeling the surprising ease of the moment. Henry was already laughing with Robin, and Snowflake seemed perfectly content curled in their shared lap.

Regina returned from the kitchen balancing a tray with four steaming mugs of hot chocolate and one smaller cup. She set it down carefully on the coffee table.

“I thought you might prefer this,” she said, handing the ginger ale directly to Emma.

Emma smiled faintly, touched. “Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Before Emma could say more, Robin bounced up from the rug. “Can we exchange gifts now?”

“Yes, we can,” Regina said warmly. Zelena chuckled and reached under the tree, passing her daughter two neatly wrapped boxes.

Robin’s eyes lit up as she tore into them—an archery set from her aunt and a bundle of paints and sketchbooks from her mother. “Thank you! This is perfect!” she beamed, immediately hugging them both.

Then Regina picked up another bag and handed it to Henry.

“For me?” Henry asked, wide-eyed.

Regina nodded, her lips curving in a small smile.

Henry dug through the tissue paper and pulled out two Nintendo Switch games—Mario Party and Minecraft. His jaw dropped.

“Since you only had one game, I thought these might keep you entertained,” Regina explained. “The seller told me they’re the most popular right now.”

“That’s awesome, thank you, Regina!” Henry exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.

Emma caught Regina’s eye across the room. She hadn’t said it aloud, but of course she hadn’t been able to afford more games for Henry—one was already a stretch. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful, embarrassed, or both.

Before she could dwell on it, Regina reappeared with another wrapped box. This time, she handed it straight to Emma.

Emma shook her head. “No, Regina, I can’t accept. I don’t have anything for you.”

Regina only arched an eyebrow. “Do you think I care? Open it.”

Emma hesitated, then carefully tore back the wrapping. Inside was a sleek, brand new laptop. She blinked, stunned, noticing a note taped to the box: For your stories.

Emma swallowed hard. “Regina, I—” but her voice caught, the words refusing to form.

Regina softened, her tone gentle but firm. “Consider it an investment. You’ve got something worth sharing, Emma. I just want to make sure you have the tools to do it.”

Henry glanced between them, already busy sliding his new game cartridges out of their cases, and grinned. “Best Christmas ever.”

“You’ve said that a lot since we got here,” Emma chuckled at Henry’s excitement. Then she turned back to Regina, her voice softening. “Thank you. Really. I’ll try to repay you somehow.”

“If you truly want to repay me,” Regina replied with a small smile, “then do it by writing more books.” With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, noticing Emma had already finished her ginger ale.

Zelena slipped onto the couch beside Emma. “So, you’re the author my sister won’t stop talking about.”

Emma blinked. “Really? She talks about me?”

“Quite a bit,” Zelena confirmed with a smirk. “Though she refuses to tell me what your book is about—said I should read it myself. But I’m not much of a reader.”

Emma hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, it’s a sapphic Christmas romance. Without spoiling too much… it’s about acceptance, the struggle of coming out, and, of course, love.”

Zelena raised her brows knowingly. “Ah, now I see why Regina loved it so much. You may have noticed, my sister isn’t exactly the straightest person in the world. And telling our mother? That wasn’t easy for her.”

Emma nodded in understanding.

“But don’t tell her I told you,” Zelena added quickly, just as Regina reappeared with a coffee in one hand and a fresh cup of ginger ale for Emma in the other.

Before Emma could react, Henry bounded over. “Mom, Mom! Can I have my Switch, please? I want to play my new games with Robin!”

Emma dug it out of her bag and handed it over with a smile. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Henry lit up, already slotting in a cartridge before setting the console on the coffee table. He held up the Joy-Cons for Robin. “Which color do you want? Blue or red?”

“Red!” Robin said without hesitation, and Henry passed it to her with an easy grin. Emma couldn’t help but feel proud—he’d turned into such a thoughtful kid, despite everything.

She watched them laughing and huddling close over the screen, completely absorbed in their game. Regina and Zelena’s conversation blurred into the background; Emma was too focused on the kids’ happiness.

That was when Snowflake padded across the room. The kitten tried to nudge Robin’s hand, then Henry’s, but both were too distracted by the Switch. So, with a tiny hop, Snowflake landed on Emma’s lap instead, curling up comfortably and rubbing her head against Emma’s belly.

Emma froze for a moment, one hand instinctively resting over the little bump, while the other stroked Snowflake’s fur.

She sat completely still, her hand stroking the kitten’s soft fur as Snowflake purred against her belly. The tiny vibration of the sound, the warmth of the little body curled up in her lap—it brought a calm Emma hadn’t felt in a long time. For a moment, she forgot about her morning sickness, the complicated emotions of seeing Neal and Killian, even the uncertainty of the future. All she could feel was Henry’s laughter filling the room, Robin’s happy voice, and the little life growing inside her.

She smiled faintly to herself, her fingers brushing absently over the baby bump as if to reassure it. We’re okay. We’re safe here.

When she finally looked up, she found Regina watching her from across the room. The mayor wasn’t smirking or making some sly comment, as Emma might have expected. Instead, Regina’s expression was softer—thoughtful, almost gentle—as her gaze flicked from Snowflake curled on Emma’s lap to Emma’s hand resting over her stomach.

Regina walked over quietly, setting her own cup on the coffee table before sitting down on the armchair across from her. She didn’t say anything at first, just let the silence stretch, the only sounds in the room being the children’s laughter and the faint hum of the kitten’s purring.

Finally, Regina spoke in a low voice. “She seems to have chosen you.”

Emma gave a small laugh, glancing down at the ball of fur that had already drifted into sleep. “Yeah… seems like it.” She stroked Snowflake’s back gently. “Guess I should get used to having someone else glued to me.”

Regina’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing.”

Emma met her eyes then, surprised by the warmth there. And for the first time since arriving in Storybrooke, she didn’t feel like an outsider.

“You and Henry should stay for lunch,” Regina said after a comfortable silence. “It’s just the five of us, and my mother will be joining.”

Emma hesitated. She had only caught a glimpse of Regina’s mother at the Christmas Eve party, and the woman hadn’t exactly given off the warmest impression. But then she looked over at Henry—laughing with Robin, completely at ease—and she knew how much he was enjoying himself here. Their time in Storybrooke was short, and soon enough they’d be back in Boston.

So she gave Regina a small nod. “Alright… we’ll stay.”

🦢♛

As Regina and Zelena busied themselves setting the dining room table, Emma instinctively rose to help, but Regina gave her a firm shake of the head.

“Stay with the children,” she said gently, already balancing a stack of plates.

So Emma sank back into the couch. The rich smells drifting in from the kitchen—roast chicken, garlic, herbs—made her mouth water, but her stomach still felt unsettled. She sipped her ginger ale slowly, hoping it would keep the nausea at bay. Snowflake had claimed her lap, purring contentedly, and the gentle vibration was oddly soothing.

Henry and Robin were still on the floor, laughing as they raced through Mario Party, teasing each other with every win and loss. It was a sound Emma didn’t hear often enough—Henry sounding completely carefree.

After a while, Robin jumped up when Zelena called for her help, eager to set napkins beside each plate. Henry paused the game and climbed up onto the couch beside his mom. Without a word, he nestled against her side, resting his head on her shoulder.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” he murmured.

Emma’s heart squeezed. She wrapped an arm around him, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I know, Sweetheart,” she whispered. “I wish everything was easier too.”

Henry tilted his face up toward her, eyes bright with hope. “But maybe… it can be, right?”

Emma hesitated, her gaze drifting toward the dining room where Regina’s low laugh carried through, warm and rich. She gave Henry a small smile and pulled him closer. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Maybe it can.”

Before Henry could answer, Regina appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a linen towel. She smiled at the sight of the two of them curled together on the couch, Snowflake still sprawled across Emma’s lap.

“Lunch is ready,” she announced. “Come join us before my mother loses patience.”

Emma shared a knowing look with Henry, then stood, keeping her arm around his shoulders as they followed Regina toward the dining room.

They began eating, though Emma’s pace was noticeably slower than the rest—still uncertain how her stomach would handle the food.

“So, Miss Swan,” Cora said after a few moments, her smile just as polished and false as before. “Regina tells me you’re an author.”

Emma set her fork down lightly. “Oh, not really. I did publish a book a few weeks ago, but that’s not my main job. I actually own a bookstore in Boston.”

“So, you’re not that famous then,” Cora replied, the words dressed as casual but carrying an edge.

Emma didn’t flinch. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I’m not the type to check my sales every five minutes. Honestly, I haven’t looked at any numbers since I’ve been here. I promised myself I wouldn’t even peek at my editor’s emails until right before the meet-and-greet.”

“Her book is excellent,” Regina interjected smoothly, her tone firm with quiet pride. “She has real talent. But it’s not the sort of story you’d enjoy, Mother.”

Cora gave a curt nod before turning her attention to Henry. “And you, Henry? Do you like Boston?”

“I prefer it here,” Henry answered with an honest shrug, before quickly turning back to Robin. She was excitedly telling him that she could teach him archery come spring. Emma’s heart pinched at the thought—she didn’t have it in her to remind them they wouldn’t still be in Storybrooke by then.

The rest of the meal passed in fragments of small talk. Emma barely ate, but Henry devoured his plate like he hadn’t seen food in days, laughing and chatting easily with Robin.

🦢♛

After the meal, once the table was cleared and the dishes washed, the house settled into a quieter rhythm. The kids went back to their Switch, laughter bubbling between them as they huddled together on the carpet. Zelena had slipped outside with Cora, leaving the living room warm with firelight and the sound of playful button mashing.

Emma leaned against the doorway, her arms loosely crossed, eyes on Henry. A soft smile curved her lips as she watched him with Robin. She felt Regina approach even before she spoke—her presence always seemed to fill the space gently but unmistakably.

“Your niece is his first real friend, you know,” Emma said quietly.

Regina’s brow softened. “Yes, he told me. He also mentioned the children in Boston… that they’re not always kind.”

Emma let out a humorless chuckle. “He thinks I don’t know, but his teacher calls me often. The kids make comments about him not having a father, like it’s still the 1950s and families only come in one shape.”

Regina’s gaze flickered toward Henry, her voice low. “A lot of people still aren’t accepting.”

“I know.” Emma sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think that’s why Henry likes it here so much. Like he said—everything just feels… nicer. The only person who hasn’t been kind so far is your mother, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Regina’s lips curved in a wry smile. “It’s all right. I know. But really, only my mother? What about Neal and Killian?”

Emma huffed softly. “Well, Killian isn’t from here. And from what I remember about that night, he was kind enough. I still need to talk to him about… this.” She rested a hand on her stomach. “As for Neal, it’s complicated. But I didn’t meet him here. That’s… old history.”

Regina nodded, the silence between them settling into something heavier, more thoughtful. She crossed her arms, her voice quieter when she spoke again.

“My mother has never been accepting. Not of me, not of who I am.” She hesitated, as if weighing whether to continue, but the warmth in Emma’s eyes seemed to draw it out of her. “When I came out to her… it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And even now, she tolerates it more than she accepts it. It’s… exhausting, always feeling like I have to prove myself worthy in her eyes, despite who I love.”

Emma turned her head to look at her, really look at her. “That sounds… really hard.”

“It was.” Regina’s voice wavered just slightly before she steadied it. “But I wouldn’t change who I am, or who I’ve loved, just to make her comfortable. Acceptance is something she struggles with. And for the longest time, I struggled too—struggled to believe I deserved love without her approval.”

Emma’s chest tightened, a mix of admiration and empathy threading through her. She shifted closer, their shoulders brushing, a small gesture of comfort she didn’t even think about before doing.

“You do deserve it,” Emma said softly. “More than anyone.”

Regina’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, warm and unreadable all at once, before she let out the faintest sigh and looked back at the kids.

Emma’s words hung in the air between them, quiet but firm. You do deserve it.

Regina glanced at her, the firelight catching in her dark eyes. For a moment, it seemed like she might dismiss the sentiment with a quip, the way she often did when things felt too raw. But instead, her lips parted in something softer—a smile that didn’t quite hide the shimmer of emotion beneath.

“Thank you, Emma,” she murmured.

They stood side by side, shoulders brushing, both pretending to be focused on the kids. Henry and Robin were laughing loudly now, jostling each other over who got to steer in their game. Snowflake had sprawled out in the middle of it all, utterly unconcerned.

“You’re good with him,” Regina said quietly after a pause. “Henry. He looks at you like you’re his entire world.”

Emma’s throat tightened. “Well… he is mine.”

The honesty in her voice made Regina’s chest ache in a way she hadn’t expected. She reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing Emma’s arm—light, tentative, but deliberate. Emma stilled, surprised, but didn’t pull away.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Regina said softly.

Emma huffed a little laugh, not pulling her gaze from the kids. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

For a beat, they simply stood like that—close enough to feel each other’s warmth, the silence between them no longer heavy but comforting, companionable.

Henry cheered as his character won the round, breaking the spell. Emma chuckled, Regina shook her head fondly, and both of them shifted their attention back to the children as if nothing had passed between them. But the air felt different now—lighter, warmer—like something had quietly clicked into place.

🦢♛

By mid-afternoon, Regina walked Emma and Henry back to Granny’s. Henry dragged his feet a little, sad to part from Robin, but she had to head home too. Before they left, the kids promised to meet at the park the next day.

The walk back was quiet, the crisp air filling the silence. Henry skipped a few steps ahead while Emma and Regina fell into step side by side, neither speaking much, but the stillness between them was easy rather than awkward.

When they stepped into Granny’s, Emma’s gaze immediately landed on Killian sitting at a corner table. She drew in a breath, then turned to Regina.

“Thanks for walking us,” she said softly, before calling to Henry, “Go on upstairs, kid. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Henry nodded and bounded off toward their room. Emma squared her shoulders, her eyes fixed on Killian as she made her way over.

Killian spotted her approaching and immediately straightened in his chair, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday girl,” he said, voice low but teasing.

Emma crossed her arms, unimpressed. “We need to talk.”

His smirk faltered, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “That sounds serious.”

“It is.” She pulled out the chair across from him but didn’t sit, choosing instead to keep her stance firm. “A few months ago, what happened between us—it wasn’t just a one-night thing I could forget. I thought it was, but turns out… I’m pregnant.”

Killian’s expression shifted in an instant. The playful charm vanished, replaced by genuine surprise. “You mean…” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “The child is mine?”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Don’t get excited. I’m not here to play happy family or ask for anything. I just thought you should know.”

Killian sat back slowly, processing, his eyes searching hers for some opening, some crack in her armor. “Emma, I—”

“Save it,” she cut in, her tone sharp but steady. “I don’t need apologies. And I don’t want promises you can’t keep. Henry and I… we’ve been fine on our own. This baby will be fine too.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the din of Granny’s filling the background. Killian finally nodded, looking more serious than Emma had ever seen him. “I hear you. But whether you believe me or not, I’m not the kind of man who runs from responsibility.”

Emma studied him for a long moment, her instincts tugging between disbelief and the faintest sliver of hope. Then she shook her head. “We’ll see. But for now, that’s all I had to say.”

She turned, leaving him at the table, and headed toward the stairs to join Henry.

🦢♛

As she climbed the stairs to Henry, Emma let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Killian might mean what he said, but she knew herself well enough to draw the line. She wasn’t about to play house or walk down an aisle just because of one careless night. The most he’d ever get was shared custody, nothing more. Her life was complicated enough—she had Henry, a baby on the way, and for the first time in a long time, a small circle of people in Storybrooke who made her feel less alone. That had to be enough.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Henry woke Emma up early, practically bouncing with excitement about meeting Robin at the park. After a quick breakfast at Granny’s—Emma managed to eat a little, grateful she wasn’t sick for once—she filled a travel cup with ginger ale and they headed out.

When they reached the park, Robin and Zelena were already there. Henry barely said goodbye before dashing off to join his friend, laughter spilling across the frosty air. Emma smiled, then made her way to the bench where Zelena was sitting.

“Hi,” Emma greeted, settling beside her.

“Hello,” Zelena replied with a wry smile. “So, Emma Swan—my sister’s been saying your name so often, I half-expected you to show up with wings and a halo.”

Emma smirked. “Sorry to disappoint. No wings, no halo. Just me.” She hesitated before adding, “So Regina really talks about me that much?”

“Yeah,” Zelena said without hesitation. “I’d say she’s your biggest fan.”

Emma shifted, looking down at her cup. “I don’t want to disappoint everyone. I’m not some big-time author. After this meet-and-greet tomorrow, people will realize I’m just a poor girl from Boston who happened to write a book in her spare time.”

Zelena tilted her head, studying her. “You might be surprised. You’ve already noticed people here are different. It’s a small town—kinder, slower. Sometimes, that makes all the difference.”

Emma gave a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Kinder, maybe. But I still don’t see why anyone would care about meeting me. I’m not a celebrity. I’m just… me.”

Zelena smirked, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s exactly why Regina likes you. You don’t see yourself the way others do. To her, you’re not ‘just you.’ You’re Emma Swan—the woman who wrote a book that actually made her feel something.”

Emma blinked, caught off guard. “She really said that?”

“Well, not in those exact words,” Zelena admitted, her smile widening. “But close enough. She reads your book like it’s scripture, Emma. Trust me, I’ve caught her with it more than once. You’ve clearly left an impression.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably on the bench, staring out at Henry and Robin chasing each other in the snow. “I don’t know if I can live up to that. The book was… personal. I wasn’t trying to be impressive, I was just trying to tell a story that mattered to me.”

“And that’s exactly why it worked,” Zelena said firmly. She leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “Look, my sister is not the easiest person in the world to impress. If she’s talking about you this much, you’ve done something right. So stop worrying about Boston, or fame, or whatever. Tomorrow, people will show up because you touched them with your words. That’s worth more than any bestseller list.”

Emma felt her chest tighten at Zelena’s unexpected kindness. She gave a small nod, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good,” Zelena said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “And if you ever forget, I’ll just keep reminding you. Maybe annoyingly so.”

Emma chuckled, feeling some of her nerves lighten. For once, the idea of tomorrow didn’t feel so terrifying—especially knowing Regina was in her corner, even if she didn’t quite understand why.

The children’s laughter echoed through the park as they chased each other, but then Emma noticed a few soft flakes drifting down from the sky. At first it was just a scattering, delicate and light, but within minutes the snow thickened, covering the ground in a fresh white sheet.

“Looks like winter decided to remind us it’s still in charge,” Zelena said, brushing a snowflake from her coat.

Henry ran up with Robin close behind. “Mom, can we go somewhere warm? My hands are freezing!”

Emma chuckled and reached out to ruffle his hair. “Told you gloves weren’t optional.” She glanced at Regina, who was already tugging her coat tighter.

“Granny’s?” Regina suggested smoothly.

Everyone agreed, so the group made their way through the snow-dusted streets. By the time they pushed open Granny’s door, the warmth and smell of cocoa and cinnamon wrapped around them like a blanket.

Ruby waved them over with a smile, quickly taking their coats before ushering them to a corner booth. The kids slid in first, still buzzing with energy, and Regina sat beside Emma while Zelena took the opposite side.

Within minutes, steaming mugs of hot chocolate arrived, complete with whipped cream and little candy canes perched on the rims. Henry and Robin immediately clinked their mugs together like it was a toast before diving in, whipped cream moustaches forming almost instantly.

Emma laughed at the sight, her shoulders relaxing. She hadn’t realized just how much she needed this—this normal, simple moment. Beside her, Regina leaned slightly closer, her voice low.

“They look like they’ve been friends forever.”

“Yeah,” Emma said softly, watching Henry’s smile. “He really needed this.” She turned her head and found Regina’s eyes on her. For a moment, neither of them looked away.

Zelena cleared her throat pointedly, smirking over her own mug. “Careful, the whipped cream isn’t the only thing that’s sweet in this booth.”

Emma felt her cheeks warm, and Regina gave her sister a withering glare—but then, to Emma’s surprise, she let out the faintest laugh.

The snow fell heavier outside, but inside, with the laughter of their children and the comfort of warm cocoa, the world felt brighter, cozier—like maybe, just maybe, this little corner of Storybrooke had room for something new to grow.

The snow outside kept falling, muting the streets of Storybrooke, but inside Granny’s the little group was wrapped in warmth. Henry and Robin had moved on from sipping their hot chocolate to drawing doodles on napkins with the crayons Ruby had brought over. They bent close together, giggling over silly sketches of Snowflake wearing a crown and Granny chasing them with a ladle.

Emma leaned back in the booth, one hand wrapped around her mug. She let the heat seep into her fingers, her stomach thankful for something simple and steady. Across from her, Zelena was watching the kids with a surprisingly soft expression, though she caught Emma’s eye and quickly tried to cover it with a smirk.

“You know,” Zelena said, lifting her mug, “this is probably the quietest I’ve seen my sister in years. Usually, she’s lecturing or bossing someone around.”

Regina arched an eyebrow at her. “I can start if you’d like.”

Zelena raised both hands in surrender. “No, no, enjoy your cocoa truce.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh. She turned to Regina. “You really are quieter. Relaxed, even.”

Regina’s lips curved, almost shyly. “Maybe it’s the company.”

That answer hung between them, warm and unspoken. Emma took another sip of her cocoa to hide the flutter in her chest.

Henry’s voice broke the moment. “Mom, look what Robin drew!” He held up a napkin covered in colorful scribbles of a knight, a princess, and what Emma guessed was supposed to be a dragon. “We made a story together.”

“That’s awesome, kid,” Emma said, her heart swelling at how animated he was. He hadn’t been this carefree in Boston for a long time.

Robin leaned over proudly. “In our story, the princess saves the knight.”

Emma grinned at that, her eyes flicking to Regina, who gave a small approving nod.

The booth felt smaller somehow, not in a cramped way but in that cozy, contented sense of belonging. The snow piled higher outside the windows, but none of them were in a hurry to leave.

Ruby dropped by with another round of whipped cream for the kids and a knowing smile at the adults. “Looks like you’re all settling in,” she said.

Emma glanced around the table—at Henry’s grin, Robin’s sparkle, Zelena’s soft smirk, and Regina’s rare, gentle smile—and realized she couldn’t disagree

The snow outside never let up, but no one seemed to notice how much time was passing inside Granny’s. Between the kids’ drawings, stories, and giggles, and the easy flow of conversation, it felt like minutes instead of hours. By the time Ruby came over to ask if they wanted anything else, Henry and Robin were leaning over the table, still debating whether their story’s dragon should turn into a friend or stay a villain.

“Lunch already?” Emma blinked, glancing at the clock over the counter. It was nearly noon. “Wow. Guess we lost track of time.”

“Not unusual when you’re with family,” Regina said casually, as if she hadn’t just let the word slip.

Emma’s heart stuttered, but before she could say anything Henry perked up. “Can we eat here, Mom? Please? I’m starving.”

Emma smiled. “Sure, kid.”

When Ruby came back with her notepad, Emma ordered a grilled cheese and, against her better judgment, a double portion of fries, knowing Henry would probably help her. Regina, of course, ordered a kale salad. Zelena, smirking, went for a burger “loaded with everything Regina hates.”

The food came quickly, the smell of melted cheese and hot fries immediately making Emma’s stomach flutter with doubt. Still, Henry’s happy face when he bit into his own burger made her glad she’d agreed to stay.

Halfway through the meal, Emma realized she had overestimated herself. The grilled cheese was rich, the fries endless. She pushed her plate slightly away, sipping her ginger ale to keep her stomach calm.

Regina’s eyes flicked to the plate, then back to Emma. Without a word, she reached across with her fork and speared a fry. “If you can’t finish them,” she said smoothly, “I suppose I’ll help.”

Emma raised a brow. “Thought fries were beneath you.”

“They are,” Regina replied, biting delicately into one. “But occasionally exceptions can be made.”

Zelena snorted. “Translation: she’s been dying to steal them since they hit the table.”

Henry and Robin laughed, and Emma couldn’t stop her own smile. Maybe it was the warmth of the diner, or the comfort of not being alone, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like she belonged somewhere—like the four walls of Granny’s, the snow outside, and the people at her table were part of something she hadn’t even realized she was missing.

Regina stole another fry, this time without asking, and Emma gave her a mock glare.
“You know, there’s a thing called ordering your own.”

Regina smirked, dabbing her lips with her napkin. “Why would I, when yours are right here?”

Emma tilted her head, amused. “So, what—you just go around taking people’s fries whenever you want?”

“Only when I like the company,” Regina replied smoothly, her eyes holding Emma’s just a beat longer than casual.

Emma felt warmth creep up her neck that had nothing to do with the cozy diner. She tried to cover it with a sip of ginger ale, but Regina’s small, knowing smile didn’t make it any easier.

Henry and Robin were too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice, though Zelena definitely did—Emma caught her watching them with a sly grin before turning back to her burger.

“Fine,” Emma said at last, pushing the basket of fries closer to Regina with a grin. “You win. But don’t expect me to share dessert.”

Regina arched a brow. “Who said I was letting you order dessert?”

Emma chuckled, shaking her head, but her chest felt lighter, as if the banter itself had peeled away some of the heaviness she usually carried. For a moment, the whole table was filled with warmth—shared food, quiet laughter, and the faint promise of something more than just friendship lingering between her and the mayor.

🦢♛

After lunch, the kids were buzzing with energy, pressing their noses against the diner's frosted window as the snow fell heavier outside.

“Can we build a snowman?” Robin asked, practically bouncing in her seat.

Henry chimed in immediately. “Yeah! Let’s do it, Mom, please!”

Emma laughed, shaking her head. “You two just ate enough to hibernate, and now you want to freeze out there?”

“They’ll be fine,” Zelena said with a grin, already standing to help Robin into her scarf and mittens. “Come on, Henry, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The kids cheered, and in seconds they were out the door with Zelena in tow. Emma and Regina followed more slowly, bundling themselves against the chill.

“I’m not touching that snow,” Regina declared firmly the moment they stepped onto the white-blanketed street. She stood tall, arms crossed, watching her niece and Henry roll the first clumps together.

Emma smirked, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. “Yeah, that’s what you say now. Give it five minutes.”

True enough, it didn’t take long. Robin and Henry were struggling to lift the second snowball onto the first, both of them laughing but clearly losing the battle against gravity. Zelena was doubled over laughing at their effort.

Regina sighed dramatically and strode over. “Honestly, you’ll both break your arms before you manage it.” With a wave of her hands—no magic, just muscle—she helped the kids roll the snowball into place. Robin and Henry cheered, and Emma couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips as she watched the mayor’s carefully polished composure melt away in the snow.

Emma stayed on the sidelines, clutching her jacket a little tighter against the cold, the thought of catching something while pregnant lingering in her mind. But she didn’t feel left out—instead, she felt oddly content, watching her son so happy, Regina laughing with him, and the beginnings of a lopsided snowman taking shape.

For a brief moment, Emma thought: This almost feels like family.

The snowman was starting to take shape—two uneven but sturdy snowballs stacked one on top of the other. Robin clapped her mittens together proudly. “We need arms and a face now!”

Henry was already scanning the ground for twigs. “I’ll get the arms!” He darted toward a nearby tree, brushing snow aside until he found two nearly perfect branches.

Robin picked up a handful of pebbles. “Eyes and a mouth, check!”

Zelena knelt beside her daughter, helping press the stones into the snow. “There. He looks like he’s smiling already.”

Henry returned, shoving the twigs into place. “Now he just needs a nose.” He turned toward his mother with a grin that Emma knew all too well—the one that meant she was about to lose an argument before it even began.

“Mom,” Henry said, jogging over to her. “You have to do the nose.”

Emma held up her hands. “What? Why me? I’m perfectly fine just supervising from over here.”

“Come on,” Robin added, her green eyes sparkling. “Every snowman needs a special touch, and you didn’t make him with us.”

“Yeah, Mom, please!” Henry insisted, holding up a bright orange carrot he’d swiped from Granny’s earlier at lunch.

Emma groaned, clutching her jacket tighter. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Henry shrugged, not even trying to hide his smirk.

“Go on, Emma,” Regina said smoothly, a teasing note in her voice. “Surely you can handle one little carrot.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but the warmth in Regina’s tone made it impossible to say no. With exaggerated reluctance, she stepped forward through the snow. “Alright, alright, but if I catch a cold, you’re all to blame.”

Henry handed her the carrot with a grin. Emma leaned in, pressing it carefully into the middle of the snowman’s face. When she stepped back, the lopsided creation was complete—stone eyes, crooked twig arms, and a proud carrot nose.

The kids whooped and clapped. Robin even jumped up and down, her pigtails bouncing.

“There,” Emma said with mock seriousness, dusting her gloves. “The masterpiece is officially finished.”

Henry looped his arm through hers, his face glowing with happiness. “He’s perfect.”

And as Emma looked between her son’s joy, Robin’s giggles, Zelena’s laughter, and Regina’s faint, genuine smile, she thought the snowman wasn’t the only perfect thing in that moment.

“Wait, wait,” Robin said suddenly, holding up her mittened hand. “We can’t just leave him like that. He needs a name.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! A snowman without a name isn’t a real snowman.”

Zelena arched an amused brow. “Alright then, what shall we call him?”

“Frosty!” Robin blurted out.

Henry shook his head immediately. “That’s way too obvious. He deserves something original.” He tapped his chin dramatically, pretending to think hard. “What about… Captain Snowbeard?”

Robin giggled. “That’s silly.”

“I like it,” Emma said, smirking. “Sounds tough.”

Regina, who had been pretending not to be invested, crossed her arms. “If we’re naming him, he should at least sound distinguished. Perhaps… Sir Snowington.”

Zelena burst out laughing. “Oh, of course you’d give the snowman a noble title, sis.”

Henry clapped his hands. “Yes! Sir Snowington, Captain Snowbeard the First!”

The kids cheered at the ridiculously long name, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh with them. Her laughter softened when she noticed Regina’s smile—unrestrained and warm, the kind that didn’t come out often.

Robin tugged at Zelena’s coat. “Mom, can we take a picture? Please?”

Zelena pulled out her phone without hesitation, but Regina stopped her with a small shake of her head. “I’ll do it.” She slipped her own phone from her coat pocket and gestured to Emma. “Go on, stand with them.”

Emma blinked. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s their snowman.”

Henry was having none of it. “Mom, come on. You helped with the nose—you’re part of this too!”

Before Emma could argue, Regina was already lining up the shot. Emma sighed, trudged forward, and crouched between Henry and Robin. Both kids threw their arms around her, grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright,” Regina said softly, raising the phone. “Smile.”

The shutter clicked a few times, capturing the messy, imperfect snowman and the glowing joy of the little group. When Emma stood again, brushing snow off her jeans, Regina caught her gaze and offered a small, knowing smile.

“See? Not so bad.”

Emma felt her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t quite explain, but she managed a smile back. “Yeah. Not bad at all.”

🦢♛

By the time the snowman had his official coronation as Sir Snowington, Captain Snowbeard the First, everyone’s cheeks were red from the cold. Robin tugged on Zelena’s sleeve, Henry begged for “just one more minute,” but Emma was already shivering despite her jacket.

“Alright, enough,” Regina declared, brushing snow from her gloves. “Inside. Hot chocolate round two.”

The kids groaned good-naturedly but obeyed, leading the group back to Granny’s. They crowded into a booth, everyone warming their hands around steaming mugs while the kids eagerly recounted every detail of the snowman’s creation as though they hadn’t all lived it together.

Emma tried to sip her cocoa, but halfway through she felt her stomach turn. She pressed the mug down carefully, forcing a smile when Henry noticed. “I’m fine, Sweetheart. Just a little tired.”

When the kids became absorbed in debating whether Sir Snowington needed a snow-dog companion, Emma quietly excused herself and slipped upstairs to her room. She barely made it in time, sinking onto the edge of the bed, pale and shaky.

She had just closed her eyes when a soft knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, it creaked open and Regina stepped in, holding a glass of water.

“I thought you might need this,” she said gently, placing it on the nightstand.

Emma gave a weak smile. “You really don’t have to keep taking care of me, Regina.”

Regina sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing her skirt with her usual poise, though her eyes were softer than Emma had ever seen them. “I know I don’t have to. But I want to.”

Emma blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “You… really mean that?”

Regina nodded. “You’re here, in my town, with your son and a child on the way. The least I can do is make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “You don’t always have to do everything alone, Emma.”

Emma swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in her throat. No one had ever said that to her before—not like this. She managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Regina. Really.”

For a moment, silence settled between them, but it wasn’t heavy. It was gentle, almost comforting. Snow fell softly against the window, and Emma realized, with a strange warmth in her chest, that she didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.

Emma barely had time to nod at Regina’s words before the nausea hit her again like a wave. She covered her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

Regina was right behind her, gently gathering Emma’s hair out of her face as she leaned over the sink. “It’s alright,” Regina murmured, her voice steady and low, as though she had done this a hundred times before. “Just breathe. You’ll feel better in a moment.”

Emma’s whole body shook, but with Regina’s hand rubbing soothing circles along her back, the panic that usually came with these moments didn’t overwhelm her. By the time she rinsed her mouth and straightened, exhausted, Regina was already holding out a damp washcloth.

“Here,” she said simply.

Emma pressed it against her forehead, closing her eyes with a tired sigh. “God, I hate this.”

“I know,” Regina said softly. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Too drained to argue, Emma let herself be guided back into the room. Regina helped her climb under the covers and then, after a pause, slipped out of her heels and lay down on top of the blanket beside her. Emma blinked in surprise but didn’t protest—it felt… safe.

For a few minutes, silence filled the space, broken only by the muffled sounds of snow falling against the window and the distant laughter of Henry and Robin downstairs. Emma stared at the ceiling, chewing her lip.

“You okay?” Regina asked quietly, turning her head toward her.

Emma hesitated before answering, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not really. I keep thinking about tomorrow… the meet and greet. What if no one shows up? Or worse, what if they do and they all hate me? What if I’m just some… disappointment who doesn’t belong here—or anywhere.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and she quickly looked away, ashamed of her own vulnerability.

Regina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached over and rested her hand lightly over Emma’s. “Emma Swan,” she said firmly, “you are not a disappointment. Not to Henry, not to this town—and not to me.”

Emma’s throat tightened, and she blinked rapidly, fighting tears. “You make it sound so easy.”

Regina gave her a small, knowing smile. “It’s not. Believe me, I know how hard it is to stand in front of people and worry if they’ll accept you for who you really are. But trust me—you’re stronger than you think.”

For the first time since she’d arrived in Storybrooke, Emma let herself believe that might be true. She let out a shaky breath and gave Regina’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Regina said softly. And she meant it.

Chapter Text

Sometime in the middle of the night, Emma stirred. The room was dark, lit only by the faint silver glow of the moon sneaking through the curtains. She blinked against the haze of sleep and realized she wasn’t alone.

Regina was still there, lying beside her on top of the blankets, her dark hair falling loosely around her face as she slept. Her breathing was calm and steady, her hand resting only inches away from Emma’s. For a moment Emma thought she might be dreaming, but then she felt a small shift against her other side.

Henry.

Her son was curled up tightly against her, his head tucked into her shoulder, his little hand resting protectively against her belly as if he could shield the baby from the world even in his sleep. Emma’s heart clenched at the sight. When had he come in? And why hadn’t she noticed?

She searched her memory, but all she could recall was being sick in the bathroom, Regina’s soothing touch as she held her hair back, the softness of the bed when she was tucked in. After that, it was all a blur. She must have drifted off before Henry had slipped into the room.

Emma’s eyes lingered on Regina. What was she still doing here? Most people would have left once Emma had fallen asleep, but Regina hadn’t. She had stayed. Stayed beside her.

The thought filled Emma with a strange warmth, one that settled in her chest and made her throat tighten. For so long it had just been her and Henry against the world, no one to lean on, no one to share the weight of the hard nights. Yet here was Regina—sharp-tongued, meticulous Regina—quietly keeping watch as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Emma felt her own eyes grow heavy again, exhaustion pulling her back under. She let her cheek rest against Henry’s hair, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding her. One last glance at Regina, so unexpectedly peaceful in sleep, and then Emma drifted off again—this time with the comforting sense that, for once, she wasn’t alone.

🦢♛

The first thing Emma registered when she woke was the soft weight of Henry still tucked against her side. His hair was messy, sticking up in every direction, and his lips were parted in that deep, unbothered sleep only kids seemed capable of. She smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.

Then she turned her head—and found Regina watching her.

Regina was propped slightly on one elbow, her dark eyes softened by the morning light streaming through the thin curtains. For once, there was no guarded mask, no sharp edge to her expression—just quiet warmth.

“Morning,” Emma whispered, her voice still rough with sleep.

“Good morning,” Regina answered, her tone low so as not to wake Henry. “How are you feeling?”

Emma took a breath, gauging her stomach. “Better. Not perfect, but better.”

Regina gave a small nod, relief flickering across her face. “Good. You worried me last night.”

Emma blinked at that, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. She didn’t know what to say, so she just gave a half-smile, letting her fingers trace absent patterns on the blanket.

Between them, Henry stirred, murmuring something incoherent before tightening his hold on Emma’s shirt and settling back down. Both women glanced at him, their eyes meeting over his head, and for a moment the room felt suspended in time—quiet, safe, almost like family.

“So… you’re still here,” Emma murmured, her voice raspy from sleep.

“Well…” Regina began, her mind drifted back to how the night had unfolded.

Emma had fallen asleep not long after Regina helped her settle. Regina hadn’t been sure if she should move, but before she could decide, the door had burst open.

Henry had rushed in eagerly, only to slow down when he saw his mom sleeping. He wasn’t surprised to find Regina lying beside Emma—it almost seemed natural to him.

“Zelena and Robin went home. It was getting late,” he whispered, before climbing onto the bed and snuggling himself between them. His gaze flicked up to Regina. “Was Mom sick again?”

Regina nodded gently, watching as Henry curled against his mother. Instinctively, Emma shifted in her sleep, wrapping an arm protectively around him.

Henry’s voice was soft but steady when he spoke again. “You know… my mom doesn’t really have friends. Like me. Her only friend is this girl who babysits me sometimes—Liz. She’s twenty-two. I think Mom likes her because she reminds her of herself when she was younger. They’re both orphans—though Mom doesn’t like that word.” He hesitated, then smiled faintly. “But with you… it’s different. I’m happy she found a real friend.”

Regina blinked, surprised by how observant he was for his age. She could see just how much Henry cared about Emma—and how much Emma cared about him. They were each other’s whole world.

“Well, your mom is very easy to like,” Regina said softly. Her lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “And so are you.”

Henry sighed, resting his head more firmly against Emma. “I’ll be sad when we have to leave in six days. But you’ll send us daily pictures of Snowflake, right? Mom says kittens grow up too fast.”

“Of course,” Regina promised. “But don’t worry—right now she’s still the tiny ball of fur we found in the snow.”

“You were with us today… did you leave her all alone?” Henry asked sleepily.

“Well, cats are more independent than dogs,” Regina reassured. “She has food, water, toys, and I installed cameras so I can check in on her. She’ll be fine.”

Henry nodded, already half-asleep, his eyelids drooping. Regina watched him for a moment, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t quite expect.

“Good night, Henry,” she whispered as he drifted off.

And before she knew it, lulled by the warmth of the bed and the quiet rhythm of Emma and Henry’s breathing, Regina closed her eyes too.

Emma blinked slowly, still trying to piece it all together. “So… you stayed. And Henry crawled in here after I fell asleep.”

Regina gave a small shrug, almost apologetic. “He was worried about you. I didn’t have the heart to send him back to his bed.”

Before Emma could reply, Henry stirred between them. He yawned loudly, blinking up at his mom before rubbing his eyes. “Morning,” he mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled against Emma’s arm. Then, noticing Regina still lying on the other side of him, he grinned. “You stayed!”

Emma raised an eyebrow at Regina, amused at how delighted Henry seemed by the situation. “Looks like someone’s happy about it.”

Henry sat up straighter now, energy returning quickly as it always did with him. “It felt like a real family,” he said innocently, as if he hadn’t just dropped words that made Emma’s heart skip. He looked between them with a bright smile. “Can we all have breakfast together?”

Emma’s lips parted, unsure how to respond to the sudden rush of warmth and panic that simple request stirred in her chest. She glanced at Regina, who—while composed as ever—had softened just a little, her dark eyes betraying something Emma couldn’t quite read.

“Breakfast sounds… nice,” Regina said gently, meeting Emma’s gaze as if to silently ask if she was okay with it.

Emma managed a small smile and nodded, brushing a hand over Henry’s hair. “Yeah, kid. Breakfast sounds like a good idea.”

Henry beamed, already scrambling out of bed to get ready, while Emma and Regina stayed behind for just a heartbeat longer—close, quiet, and aware of the fragile closeness that had grown overnight.

🦢♛

They made their way downstairs to Granny’s for breakfast, Henry practically bouncing with leftover energy from waking up in such a good mood. Emma trailed behind him, one hand absently rubbing at her stomach. Her appetite still wasn’t great, so when Ruby came to take their order, Emma just asked for a tall glass of ginger ale. Henry, meanwhile, wasted no time in declaring that he wanted a huge plate of pancakes—“with extra syrup, please”—and Regina, ever composed, requested a fresh fruit plate and coffee.

Emma smirked faintly across the table. “Balanced as always.”

Regina gave her a look, but there was the faintest curl at the corner of her lips. “Someone has to be the adult at this table.”

Henry didn’t even notice, too busy buzzing with excitement. “So, what will I do while you’re at your event this afternoon, Mom?” he asked, mouth already full of pancake in anticipation of his order.

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but Regina spoke first, her tone calm and reassuring. “Zelena is more than happy to watch you. You can spend the afternoon with Robin—she’s looking forward to it.”

Henry’s eyes lit up instantly. “Great!” he exclaimed, grinning wide.

Emma leaned back in her chair, watching her son’s excitement with a soft, almost wistful smile. It was rare to see him this carefree—no teasing from classmates, no whispers about not having a dad. Just Henry being a kid, with a friend, in a place where he felt like he belonged.

“See, Henry? You’re more popular here than me,” Emma teased gently, brushing a hand over his hair as he squirmed away with a laugh.

“I just make friends fast,” he said proudly.

Regina arched an eyebrow, sipping her coffee. “You’ve clearly inherited your mother’s charm.”

Emma let out a low laugh at that, shaking her head. “Pretty sure he got that from himself.”

Their food arrived then—Henry’s towering stack of pancakes steaming, Regina’s fruit arranged neatly, and Emma’s ginger ale fizzing comfortingly. For a few quiet minutes, the three of them ate together in a peace that felt surprisingly natural, as though mornings like this weren’t rare at all.

Emma found herself glancing at Regina now and then, catching the small, unguarded smiles she gave Henry when he described—in painstaking detail—how he and Robin were going to build “the best snow fort Storybrooke has ever seen.” And for a moment, Emma let herself imagine that this could be more than temporary.

🦢♛

Later that afternoon, Emma felt the knot in her stomach tighten with every step she took. The ginger ale she had sipped at lunch did little to steady her nerves. Walking side by side with Regina, she tried to focus on the crunch of snow under their boots instead of the event waiting for her.

They had just dropped Henry off at Regina’s mansion, where he was already running toward Robin and Snowflake with an enthusiasm Emma envied. Zelena had promised to keep an eye on the kids, and Emma had reluctantly agreed—it was better for Henry to play and laugh than sit through a crowd of adults asking questions about books.

By the time Emma and Regina reached the library, her heart sank. There were already people gathered outside, far more than she’d imagined. Some clutched well-loved copies of her book, their edges frayed from use, while others looked like they’d driven from out of town just for this. The sight made her palms damp, and she froze for half a second.

Regina noticed immediately and placed a steadying hand at the small of Emma’s back. “Breathe,” she murmured, low enough for only Emma to hear. “You’re going to be fine.”

Emma nodded, though she wasn’t convinced. She followed Regina around to the back entrance, grateful for the escape from the crowd’s eager stares. Inside, Belle greeted them warmly, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Emma, I’m so glad you’re here!” Belle said, her enthusiasm both comforting and intimidating. “Let me walk you through everything.”

Emma listened as Belle explained the setup: she would be seated at a table near the front, signing books, answering a few questions, maybe even reading a passage aloud if she felt comfortable. Each word made Emma’s throat tighten just a little more.

When they reached the small table that had been prepared for her, Emma stopped short. It was simple—just a stack of her books, a neat nameplate, and a pen—but it felt monumental. Like this was proof that her words actually mattered to people outside of her little apartment in Boston.

Belle gave her an encouraging smile. “Take a few minutes to settle in. People will start coming through soon.”

Emma lowered herself into the chair, her fingers tracing the edge of the table as though it might ground her. Behind her, she felt rather than saw Regina linger, standing tall, poised, and unwavering.

“You’ll stay?” Emma asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Of course,” Regina said softly, her dark eyes steady and warm. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone in this.”

Emma let out a shaky laugh, one hand smoothing over her stomach. “Great. At least if I faint, someone I trust will catch me.”

Regina’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “You won’t faint. You’re stronger than you think, Miss Swan.”

And with that, Emma drew in a breath, braced herself, and waited as the hum of voices outside grew louder.

The doors opened, and the murmur of voices filled the library. Emma stiffened, her fingers tightening around the pen, but the first person in line—a teenage girl clutching a slightly dog-eared copy of her book—approached with a shy smile.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you,” the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never read a Christmas story where someone like me could… could be happy. It made me feel less alone.”

Emma blinked, caught off guard, and felt the tension in her chest loosen just a fraction. “That… that means a lot to me,” she said sincerely, signing the book with a flourish before handing it back.

The next reader was older, a woman in her forties who admitted she’d bought the book on a whim but had cried through the first chapters. Then came a young couple, both women, who giggled and nudged each other as Emma signed both their books. One after another, they came, and Emma found herself doing more than just signing—she was listening, talking, sharing.

She started explaining how the story had come to be. “I think a lot of us know what it feels like to be lonely at Christmas,” she told a woman who asked about her inspiration. “I wanted to write something that reminded people—reminded myself—that it’s never too late to find love, or acceptance. Even if it’s not from the people you expect.”

Her voice grew steadier as she continued. “The book is about coming out, yes, but also about being brave enough to let yourself be seen. That’s terrifying, especially when you’re afraid of rejection. But I wanted to show that there’s joy on the other side of that fear. That you can find people who will love you exactly as you are.”

The words flowed more easily now, her nervousness dissolving as passion took over. She leaned forward when she talked, her hands moving animatedly, her green eyes bright. The crowd wasn’t intimidating anymore; it was a conversation, a connection.

Emma didn’t realize how relaxed she looked, but Regina did. Standing just a few steps away, Regina watched her with quiet astonishment. Gone was the hesitant woman she had walked here with, fretting about crowds and judgment. In her place was someone radiant, confident, who spoke with conviction and heart. Emma had no idea how magnetic she was when she talked about the things that mattered to her—but Regina saw it clearly.

By the time Emma looked down and noticed the stack of books dwindling, she realized her hands weren’t shaking anymore. She was smiling—really smiling.

And Regina, for once, allowed herself to smile too, soft and proud.

When the last book was signed and the line dissolved into small groups chatting excitedly around the library, Emma finally leaned back in her chair, exhaling with relief. She turned her head toward Regina, who was still standing a step behind her, watchful as ever.

“Do you have your copy with you?” Emma asked, her voice quiet but carrying a touch of warmth. “The one I signed when we first met at my bookstore?”

Regina blinked, caught off guard by the request. “What? Oh—yes.” She reached into her purse, pulling out the well-kept hardcover and handing it over.

Emma flipped it open to the title page, where her original signature sat stark and simple. She remembered that day clearly—how she hadn’t known what to say, how she’d just scrawled her name, thinking it didn’t matter much. But now, looking at Regina, it did.

She picked up her pen again, the noise of the library fading as she wrote carefully beneath her name.

To the person who showed me that I mattered.

For a moment, she stared at the words, then handed the book back.

Regina’s eyes fell on the page. She read it once, then again, her throat tightening. She wasn’t easily moved—years of walls and armor made sure of that—but the simple sincerity of Emma’s words cut through her defenses.

Her gaze lifted, and she found Emma watching her, green eyes tentative, almost shy.

“Emma…” Regina’s voice was softer than she intended. She closed the book carefully, as though it were suddenly fragile. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

Emma shrugged lightly, but there was no disguising the emotion in her expression. “It’s true. I don’t think I’d be standing here, doing this, without you.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The murmur of the library carried on around them, but between the two women, the silence felt full—charged with something unspoken, something that hovered just out of reach.

Finally, Regina allowed herself a small, almost tender smile. “Then I’ll treasure it.” She slipped the book back into her purse, her hand lingering on the leather flap a second longer than necessary.

And Emma—though she would never admit it aloud—felt steadier knowing Regina was still right there behind her.

🦢♛

After her signing, Emma spent time moving around the library, talking with the readers who had come to meet her. The idea that she even had fans still felt surreal—she was just a woman from Boston who wrote a book in the quiet moments of her life. Yet, as she listened to people describe what her story meant to them—how it made them feel less alone, how it gave them hope—she couldn’t help but feel grateful, even a little proud. Every word warmed her, eased the nervousness she’d carried for days.

But then, across the room, she noticed them.

Neal and Killian.

They weren’t standing together—if anything, their stiff postures and the way they avoided looking at each other suggested they’d had words. But their presence made Emma’s stomach knot. Why were they even here?

She excused herself politely and crossed the room to Killian, who was closest.

“May I ask what you’re doing here?” she asked, her voice calm but edged.

Killian straightened, as though preparing himself. “I just want to know you better, Emma. We’re having a child together. And this… this event seemed like the best way to understand you.”

Emma sighed, her hand brushing her temple. With Neal, things had been simple—if painful. He hadn’t wanted Henry. He’d signed away his rights without hesitation. That chapter had closed. But Killian was different. He wanted to be present. He wanted to claim a place in their lives.

“Emma,” Killian said, his tone bordering on pleading, “we should try to make this work. For the child’s sake.”

Her eyes hardened. “I already told you—I’m not going to play happy family with you. It was one night, nothing more. I’ve already raised one kid on my own. I can do it again. If you really want to be part of this baby’s life, then fine—we can talk about shared custody. But I’m not going to date you, and I’m not going to pretend I love you just because we’re having a child.”

Killian’s jaw tightened, disappointment flickering in his eyes, but after a beat he nodded. “All right. I’ll think about it.”

Emma felt a flicker of relief—until a voice cut in.

“If he gets to see his kid, then I want to see mine.”

Neal.

Emma turned slowly, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she almost laughed at her own naivety—thinking Neal would stay gone, thinking he wouldn’t stir up trouble again.

“You’re dumber than I thought,” she said evenly.

His eyes narrowed, sharp with anger, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“You gave up your rights the second you sent me those papers, Neal. Remember? The ones you shoved at me right after you walked away. You don’t get to show up now and suddenly play father.” Her voice was calm, cold as steel.

Neal’s glare deepened, but Emma leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only he and Killian could hear.

“And I don’t think you want your father knowing the real reason you went crawling back to him at seventeen. So if I were you, I’d be careful about hanging around me.”

The color drained from Neal’s face, just slightly. Emma straightened again, her chin lifted, her composure unshaken. For the first time since spotting them, she felt in control.

By the time the library event wound down, Emma was exhausted but strangely light. She’d survived her first real signing, handled both Killian and Neal without breaking, and she could almost believe she belonged here.

Regina must have sensed the weight of it all, because instead of letting Emma and Henry retreat to Granny’s, she invited them for dinner at the mansion. Emma didn’t argue—Henry’s face had already lit up at the idea of spending more time with Robin.

When they arrived, the house smelled incredible. Zelena was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as she stirred something on the stove, and Robin and Henry were sprawled out on the rug in the living room, building an elaborate castle out of blocks. Snowflake perched on a nearby chair, supervising like a tiny queen.

“Perfect timing,” Zelena called. “Dinner’s just about ready. I even made my famous lasagna—though Regina will claim it’s hers if anyone asks.”

“Because it was mine,” Regina said smoothly, setting a salad bowl on the table. “You just happened to steal my recipe.”

Emma chuckled and slipped out of her coat, watching as Henry barely looked up from his building project before blurting, “Can we all eat together in here? In the castle?”

“Henry,” Emma warned gently.

But Regina only smiled, soft in a way Emma wasn’t used to seeing. “We’ll eat at the table, darling. Don’t worry—you can show us the castle afterward.”

Dinner was warm and lively. Henry and Robin talked over each other, telling stories about their day, while Zelena teased Regina about being far too invested in a certain Boston author’s book. Emma, cheeks warm, tried to wave it off, but Regina didn’t bother hiding her little smirk.

Emma stuck mostly to small bites—still wary of her stomach—but found herself laughing more than she had in weeks. The clinking of forks, the murmur of conversation, the sound of Henry’s bubbling laughter—it all felt startlingly, achingly normal.

After plates were cleared, Henry and Robin darted back to their castle, insisting the adults come see their masterpiece. Regina and Zelena humored them, crouching to admire the crooked towers while Emma leaned against the doorway, clutching her jacket closed.

Snowflake hopped down to weave between Henry’s legs, and he scooped her up proudly. “She’s our guard cat,” he announced.

Emma smiled softly, her heart tugging at the sight. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged here.

Chapter Text

The next three days settled into a comfortable rhythm for Emma and Henry. Mornings began with breakfast at Granny’s—often with Regina joining them—and the days were spent either in her company or with Regina, Zelena, and Robin together. They even attended a few of the town’s holiday events, soaking in the small-town charm that seemed to draw Henry in more each day.

Before long, New Year’s Eve arrived. Emma and Henry received an invitation to the Storybrooke Ball, and though Emma hesitated at first, Regina reassured her it would be nothing like her mother’s stiff and glittering Christmas Eve party.

🦢♛

“So, my tailor will meet you both at ten this morning,” Regina explained over breakfast on New Year’s Eve. “He’ll readjust Henry’s suit from the Christmas Eve party and make a few alterations to the pantsuit I had made for you. He still has your measurements, but we thought there might be some changes.”

Emma blinked. “You had a pantsuit made for me?”

“Yes,” Regina replied easily. “I chose the same fabric as my dress so we’d match—since you’re my date for the ball.”

Emma nearly choked on her ginger ale. “I’m what?”

Regina smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “How do you think I got you invited, Miss Swan?”

Emma set her glass down a little too quickly, almost spilling. “You—you could’ve warned me, you know.”

Regina tilted her head, stirring her coffee with deliberate calm. “And miss the look on your face right now? Absolutely not.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm. A date? With Regina Mills? She couldn’t mean it like that… right?

“Relax, Miss Swan,” Regina said smoothly, sensing her nerves. “It’s just a ball. Two friends attending together. Perfectly respectable.” She paused, eyes glinting. “Unless you’d like it to mean more.”

Emma opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, but nothing coherent came out. Thankfully, Henry chose that moment to bounce into the booth, a plate of waffles in his hands.

“Does that mean I get to dance with Robin ?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, Henry,” Regina said, lips curving into a smile as she watched Emma still struggling for words. “There will be plenty of dancing.”

Emma focused very hard on her ginger ale. Friends. Right. Friends with matching outfits who go to fancy balls together. Totally normal.

🦢♛

At ten sharp, Regina and Emma arrived at the tailor’s. Henry was already twirling in front of the mirror in his readjusted suit, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fits perfectly,” the tailor said, brushing invisible lint from Henry’s shoulder. Henry beamed and ran off to admire himself again.

Then it was Emma’s turn. She stepped behind the screen, slipping into the pantsuit Regina had commissioned. The fabric was luxurious, smooth against her skin, and the cut was sleek—but as soon as she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her throat tightened. The jacket fit beautifully, yet there was no denying the curve of her belly was visible now, subtle but unmistakable.

She tugged at the lapels, smoothing them down, trying to shift the fabric. “It’s… snug,” she muttered.

“Come out,” Regina called.

Emma hesitated, then stepped forward, cheeks warm. She folded her arms instinctively across her stomach. “See? It shows. I look—”

“Beautiful,” Regina interrupted, standing as if she couldn’t sit still one second longer. She circled Emma slowly, taking in the way the fabric hugged her form. “The cut is perfect, the fabric drapes exactly as I envisioned.” Her voice softened. “And your bump only makes it better. It makes you better.”

Emma blinked, caught off guard. “Regina…”

Regina tilted her chin up gently, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “You’re carrying life, Emma. There’s no shame in being seen. Tonight, you’ll walk into that ballroom and every person will see what I see—strength, beauty, and grace.”

Emma swallowed, her defenses crumbling under Regina’s steady gaze. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Regina said firmly, then allowed herself the smallest smirk. “Besides, I don’t share fabric with just anyone. If you didn’t look breathtaking, I’d never forgive myself.”

Emma laughed softly, the tension loosening from her shoulders. She glanced at her reflection again, this time seeing less of the flaw she’d focused on and more of what Regina had described.

🦢♛

After the visit to the tailor, the three of them returned to Granny’s for lunch. Henry dug into his fries happily while Emma picked at a sandwich, her nerves already starting to rise with the thought of the evening ahead. Once they were finished, they went back upstairs to their room.

The afternoon passed quietly. Emma stretched out on the bed, dozing off more than once, while Henry sat cross-legged on the floor, absorbed in one of the new games Regina had given him for Christmas. Every now and then he’d grin or call out, wanting to show Emma something on the screen, and she’d smile back, grateful for the way he could keep himself entertained.

As the sun dipped lower and the town outside grew busier with last-minute preparations, Emma finally pushed herself up. “Alright, kid, time to get ready.”

Henry eagerly put his Switch aside and let her fuss over his suit. She smoothed the fabric across his shoulders, straightened his bow tie, and knelt to fix a wrinkle in his pants. “There,” she said with a smile. “You look so handsome.”

“Like James Bond,” Henry declared, puffing his chest out.

Emma laughed. “Exactly like James Bond—minus the gadgets.”

Then it was her turn. She slipped into the pantsuit, buttoning the jacket with steady hands. For a moment, the old wave of insecurity washed over her—her eyes darted to the faint curve of her stomach in the mirror. She hesitated, chewing her lip, until Regina’s words echoed back in her mind: ‘Tonight, you’ll walk into that ballroom and every person will see what I see—strength, beauty, and grace.’

Emma exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. She adjusted the lapels, added a touch of mascara and lipstick, and slid her feet into her heels. When she looked again, she didn’t just see the bump—she saw herself, stronger than she thought she could be.

Henry appeared in the doorway, already holding his coat. His grin was wide and unguarded. “Mom, you look awesome.”

Her heart softened instantly. “Thanks, kid. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

They had just finished gathering their things when a knock sounded at the door. Emma opened it to find Regina standing there, radiant in her evening gown. The deep fabric shimmered under the hallway light, and Emma couldn’t help but notice it was the exact same shade as her pantsuit.

“Ready?” Regina asked with a warm smile, her eyes flicking briefly over Emma’s outfit as if to silently reassure her again.

Henry rushed forward, excitement bubbling in his voice. “We’re ready! Let’s go!”

They stepped out into the crisp winter air together, the streets glowing with lanterns and twinkling lights that the town had strung up for the celebration. Henry kept close to Regina’s side, bubbling with excitement about the party, while Emma walked a touch slower, trying to steady the flutter in her chest.

By the time they reached Town Hall, the place was already alive with music and laughter. The grand doors stood open, spilling golden light into the night. Inside, Storybrooke’s residents milled about in elegant dresses and sharp suits, their chatter blending with the soft notes of a string quartet.

Emma hesitated at the threshold, suddenly aware of every pair of eyes that might turn her way. But Regina’s hand brushed lightly against hers, a subtle reminder she wasn’t alone. “Come on,” Regina murmured. “You’ll be fine.”

Henry, oblivious to his mother’s nerves, darted ahead to greet Robin, who waved eagerly from across the room. Zelena trailed close behind her daughter, already pulling Henry into their orbit.

Emma took a breath and followed Regina further inside. Heads did turn, but not in the way she feared. For once, she wasn’t the girl from Boston who’d made mistakes or the woman hiding a pregnancy. She was simply Emma Swan—author, mother, and, tonight, Regina Mills’ date.

The matching fabric of their outfits didn’t go unnoticed. More than one person smiled knowingly as the pair passed by, their colors a quiet statement of solidarity.

“You see?” Regina said under her breath, her lips curving into that signature smirk. “Strength, beauty, grace. Just like I promised.”

Emma felt the corners of her mouth lift despite herself. Maybe Regina was right. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, she could let herself belong.

Emma found herself drifting toward the refreshment table just to keep her hands busy. She accepted a glass of sparkling cider—non-alcoholic, of course—and lingered there, watching Henry and Robin dart through the crowd with the energy only kids possessed.

“You look like you’re plotting an escape,” Regina’s voice teased from behind.

Emma turned, catching the mayor’s amused smile. “Maybe. Think anyone would notice if I bolted?”

“I would,” Regina replied simply. She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only Emma could hear. “Besides, you’re not leaving me alone in this room full of well-wishers who all want something. You’re my shield tonight.”

Emma laughed softly. “Guess I can manage that. Though I’m not sure I look very intimidating in a pantsuit.”

Regina’s gaze flicked over her, lingering for a moment too long to be casual. “On the contrary. You look striking. More than I imagined, actually.”

Emma blinked, thrown by the honesty in her tone. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Regina said, her smirk softening into something warmer. “You should know by now—I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Emma’s chest tightened. She wasn’t used to this—compliments that didn’t come with conditions, admiration that felt… safe. Before she could respond, Regina touched her hand lightly, as though testing whether Emma would pull away.

Emma didn’t.

The contact was brief, gone as soon as it happened, but it left her palms tingling. She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how close they were standing in a crowded room, yet how strangely private it felt.

“Midnight will be here before you know it,” Regina murmured, her eyes steady on Emma’s. “Don’t wander too far.”

Emma nodded, her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the woman beside her.

The evening flowed around them in a blur of glittering gowns, laughter, and the occasional burst of confetti tossed by overexcited townsfolk. Emma kept close to Regina, who—despite being the mayor and easily one of the most admired women in the room—seemed to spend more time at Emma’s side than anywhere else.

Henry and Robin dashed between tables, chasing balloons, their giggles rising above the soft hum of a string quartet. Emma smiled at the sight, a pang of tenderness hitting her as she thought of how happy Henry seemed here.

“Emma,” Regina’s voice cut gently through her thoughts. “Dance with me.”

Emma blinked, taken aback. “What, here? In front of everyone?”

“Yes, here.” Regina’s lips curved into that knowing smirk Emma was starting to recognize as both a challenge and an invitation. “It’s a ball. That’s what people do.”

Emma hesitated, glancing down at her growing bump, the lines of the pantsuit she still wasn’t sure about. “I don’t know, Regina…”

But Regina was already extending a hand, her dark eyes shimmering with patience. “Trust me. No one will be looking at anything but how radiant you are.”

Emma swallowed hard, then placed her hand in Regina’s. Warmth bloomed instantly through her skin as Regina guided her to the dance floor. The music shifted to a slow, elegant piece, and before Emma knew it, she was in Regina’s arms.

“You’re tense,” Regina murmured, her hand steady at Emma’s waist.

“I don’t exactly do this every day.”

“Neither do I,” Regina confessed, her voice softer now, almost conspiratorial. “But sometimes, the right partner makes all the difference.”

Emma’s breath caught. She forced herself to look away, to focus on the movement of their steps, but the pull of Regina’s gaze was magnetic. They moved slowly, gracefully, as though the rest of the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them swaying under the golden glow of chandeliers.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” Emma said quietly.

Regina’s smile softened, genuine and unguarded. “Perhaps I just feel like myself tonight.”

Emma met her eyes again, and something in her chest tightened, something she wasn’t ready to name but couldn’t deny either. For a brief, dizzying moment, it felt like she belonged here—held, seen, wanted.

When the song ended, Regina didn’t let go immediately. Her hand lingered against Emma’s, her thumb brushing once over her knuckles before she finally stepped back.

Emma’s heart was pounding, and from the look in Regina’s eyes, she wasn’t the only one.

They made their way back to the table, still a little breathless from the dance though Emma would never admit it out loud. Regina, composed as ever, smoothed a hand over her dress before sitting gracefully. Emma tried to follow suit, but her cheeks were still warm.

“Well, well,” Zelena’s lilting voice carried over as she leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Look at you two. Dancing like the Belle and Beast of Storybrooke.”

Emma nearly choked on the sip of ginger ale she’d just taken. “We were just—”

“Dancing,” Regina finished smoothly, arching one regal eyebrow at her sister. “Which, as I recall, is quite common at a ball.”

“Yes, but not everyone manages to make the whole room stop and stare,” Zelena teased. “Honestly, if you’d dipped her, Sister, I think half the town would’ve fainted.”

Emma muttered, “Not funny,” but the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the faintest twitch of a smile.

Before Zelena could pile on another remark, Henry and Robin darted back to the table, cheeks flushed from running around. “Mom! Did you see us?” Henry beamed. “We found balloons shaped like stars!”

Robin held one up proudly, a golden star bobbing above her head. “They were at the other end of the room, but we got the last two.”

Henry tied his around the back of Emma’s chair, then leaned into her side. “This is the best New Year’s Eve ever.”

Emma kissed the top of his head, her heart tugging at the pure joy on his face. “I’m glad you’re having fun, kid.”

Robin leaned conspiratorially toward Regina. “Maybe next year we can have a snowball fight before the ball?”

Regina chuckled softly, reaching out to smooth a strand of hair from her niece’s face. “We’ll see, darling. Let’s survive this year’s ball first.”

Zelena rolled her eyes playfully, but Emma caught the way Regina’s gaze softened as it flicked between Henry and Robin—like seeing them happy had eased something deep inside her.

And somehow, Emma realized, that softened her too.

The night carried on with laughter and music swirling around the ballroom, the children darting in and out of the crowd like excited fireflies. Emma found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected. Every time she glanced at Henry, his smile reassured her that she’d made the right choice coming here.

At one point, Henry tugged her hand. “Come on, Mom, I want to show you the dessert table. They have, like, everything.”

Emma followed him, chuckling when she saw the spread of cakes and cookies lined up like jewels. She picked out something small for Henry, then just a plain cookie for herself. As she turned, she caught sight of Regina watching her from across the room. Their eyes met, and Emma felt her heart skip the tiniest beat. Regina wasn’t smiling—but there was something in her gaze, a quiet warmth that seemed to reach straight through Emma’s insecurities.

When Emma and Henry returned, Zelena was once again grinning like a cat. “You know,” she said, leaning close to Emma in a mock whisper, “my sister doesn’t usually look at anyone that way.”

Emma stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks. “What way?”

“Oh, you know,” Zelena waved her hand dramatically. “Like you’ve stolen her heart and she’s not quite sure whether to hex you for it or thank you.”

“Zelena,” Regina hissed under her breath, shooting her sister a withering glare.

Emma laughed awkwardly and busied herself by breaking her cookie in half. Henry and Robin were too wrapped up in swapping bites of dessert to notice the adult tension simmering around them.

The music shifted to something softer, slower, filling the space with a dreamy quality. Couples began drifting back to the dance floor. Regina rose smoothly to her feet, her dress shimmering in the low light. For a heartbeat, Emma thought she might extend her hand again—but instead, Regina only asked, “Shall we get some air? It’s warm in here.”

Emma nodded, relieved for the excuse, and followed her through the side doors onto the balcony. The cool night air kissed her flushed cheeks, and she pulled her jacket tighter. Inside, the muffled hum of the ball continued, but out here it felt quieter, more intimate.

They stood side by side for a moment, watching the snow fall in lazy spirals under the lamplight.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma said softly.

“Yes,” Regina murmured, though when Emma glanced sideways, she wasn’t looking at the snow at all.

Emma quickly turned back toward the view, pretending not to notice the intensity of that gaze—but her heart was beating far too fast for her to pretend she hadn’t felt it.

Emma leaned her elbows on the balcony railing, watching her breath curl in the cold air. She let the silence stretch for a moment before she spoke, her voice low, almost hesitant.

“You know,” she began, “Henry and I are going back to Boston tomorrow. And I thought I’d be… ready for it. But I’m not.”

Regina turned her head, listening carefully, saying nothing yet.

Emma drew a shaky breath, staring out at the snowfall. “It’s been a long time since I felt like… I belonged anywhere. Boston is fine, I guess. It’s home. But here—” she broke off, pressing her lips together before continuing, “—here, Henry has friends. He smiles more. I smile more. People are kind. And for once, I don’t feel like I’m just… surviving.”

Her hand curled around the railing, her knuckles pale. “I didn’t expect any of this when we came. Least of all the way people—” she caught herself, glancing quickly at Regina, “—the way you made us feel welcome.”

Regina’s chest tightened. She wanted to reach out, to brush her hand over Emma’s, but she kept still, sensing the rawness in Emma’s words.

“Leaving tomorrow,” Emma continued, “it almost feels like I’m pulling Henry away from something good. From people who actually care. And selfishly… it feels like I’m pulling myself away too.” She gave a weak chuckle, though her eyes glistened. “I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”

“No,” Regina said firmly, her voice softer than Emma had ever heard it. “You sound honest. And brave. There’s nothing ridiculous about admitting you’ve found something worth missing.”

Emma finally turned to her, and for a moment their eyes locked, the snow falling soundlessly around them, the hum of music muffled through the glass doors behind.

Inside, a cheer suddenly swelled. “Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown had begun.

Emma startled, realizing how much time had passed. She glanced back at the glowing ballroom, then at Regina, who hadn’t moved, her dark eyes steady on her.

“Seven! Six!”

Neither woman spoke. The air between them was charged, thick with everything Emma had just confessed and everything she hadn’t dared to.

“Five! Four!”

Regina stepped closer, close enough that Emma could feel the warmth of her despite the winter chill.

“Three! Two!”

Emma’s heart pounded so hard she thought she might faint. She didn’t even think about it—her body leaned in as if pulled by gravity itself.

“One!”

The world seemed to hush for that single instant, and then their lips met. Tentative at first, then certain, their kiss soft and desperate all at once. Emma felt the weight of it—comfort, longing, possibility—everything she hadn’t allowed herself to hope for.

When they finally parted, breath clouding in the cold night, Emma’s chest tightened painfully. The reality of tomorrow crashed down on her: Boston, the distance, the fear of what this could mean if she let herself want it too much.

“I—” she whispered, but the words tangled in her throat. Panic surged. Before Regina could reach for her again, Emma shook her head, eyes wide and vulnerable, and slipped past her.

She rushed back inside, weaving through the crowd without looking back, leaving Regina alone on the snowy balcony as the sounds of celebration and fireworks filled the night.

Chapter Text

Emma had barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, the kiss replayed in her mind—soft, electric, terrifying. And every time, she saw herself running away, dragging Henry back to Granny’s as if she could escape what she’d felt on that balcony. She wasn’t proud of it. The guilt sat heavy in her chest, gnawing at her until she was sick. She spent half the early morning over the bathroom sink, not even sure if it was morning sickness or just her nerves eating her alive.

By the time the sun rose, she looked pale, exhausted, and worn down. She told herself she’d leave quietly, avoid Regina, pretend it had never happened. But fate had other ideas.

When Emma and Henry came down to the diner, luggage in tow, Regina was already there waiting. Emma froze for a heartbeat, but then forced herself forward, chin lifted, pretending her heart wasn’t trying to climb into her throat.

They greeted each other politely, carefully, as though nothing had happened. It was a performance, both of them hiding behind practiced smiles, neither daring to acknowledge the memory of the balcony.

Henry, oblivious to the tension, wrapped his arms around Regina with all the warmth in his small body. “You’ll send pictures of Snowflake every day, right?” he asked, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.

“I promise,” Regina said softly, her voice cracking just enough that Emma noticed. She smoothed Henry’s hair back and gave him a smile that was more fragile than usual.

Emma stood a step behind, arms crossed, wishing she had the courage to say something real. But the words stayed locked in her chest. So instead, she offered the same small nod and half-smile she’d given countless times before, as if that could be enough.

Henry turned to wave at Robin and Zelena, who had also come to see them off, giving Emma and Regina one last moment alone.

Regina’s gaze lingered on Emma’s, unspoken words flickering in the dark depths of her eyes. Emma swallowed hard, forcing herself not to look away, but it was too much—the closeness, the ache, the regret.

“Thank you,” Emma finally whispered, her voice hushed, almost breaking. “For everything.”

Regina only nodded. “Safe travels, Miss Swan.”

The formal address stung more than Emma expected.

🦢♛

The drive back to Boston was quiet. Henry sat in the backseat, absorbed in his Switch—this time with a full battery—while Emma kept her eyes fixed on the road, willing herself not to think about the night before. Every mile that took them farther from Storybrooke made her chest feel heavier, as though she were leaving something behind she hadn’t meant to.

They reached their apartment around noon. It felt smaller, duller somehow after Regina’s warm home, but Emma shoved the thought aside. They ate a quick lunch before heading to the bookstore. Liz was already there, manning the counter with a smile that turned a little sheepish when she saw Emma walk in.

“Hey,” Emma greeted, setting her bag down. “You can head out now, thanks for keeping an eye on things.”

Liz nodded, grabbed her coat, and wished them a happy new year before slipping out into the cold.

Henry set up at one of the small tables with his homework—school was starting again in two days, and Emma knew she’d have to push him back into routine fast. Meanwhile, Emma went behind the counter, checking receipts and sales logs. Her heart sank. The numbers were low. Very low. She rubbed her temples, already doing the math in her head. Rent. Utilities. Supplies. Food.

She glanced at Henry, hunched over his notebook, chewing the end of his pencil. No matter how tight things got, he’d always eat. If it meant skipping meals herself, she’d do it without question. She always had.

Emma sank onto the stool behind the counter, staring at the empty shop. The quiet pressed in on her, and for the first time since leaving Storybrooke, she let herself feel it—the loneliness.

But then Henry looked up, caught her eye, and gave her that crooked smile of his. And Emma straightened, returning it, because she couldn’t let him see her worry. Not now. Not ever.

🦢♛

Back in Storybrooke, Regina stood in her living room, the house feeling unusually quiet despite Snowflake chasing a toy mouse across the rug. Zelena and Robin had gone home after the holiday, and Henry… Henry was gone too. The silence left a weight she wasn’t prepared for.

She sat on the sofa, her red dress from the ball still draped over a chair nearby, and reached for her copy of Emma’s book. She opened it to the inscription again, reading the words slowly, letting them sink in:

“To the person who showed me that I mattered.”

Regina traced the letters with her fingertip, hearing Emma’s voice in her head. She hadn’t expected that kiss on the balcony, hadn’t expected Emma Swan to take her breath away—and certainly hadn’t expected Emma to run. But she wasn’t angry. She understood fear. She’d lived her whole life in the shadow of it.

Snowflake leapt onto the couch and curled up beside her, purring softly. Regina stroked the kitten absently, her mind drifting back to the little family that had just left town. Emma had walls higher than most people’s, but Regina had seen them crack. She’d seen the warmth beneath, the fierce love Emma had for her son, and the longing she tried so hard to hide.

Her phone buzzed on the table. It was from Emma’s number but it was a message from Henry: a blurry selfie of him holding Snowflake’s toy mouse, captioned, “Don’t forget to send me pics every day like you promised.”

Regina smiled despite herself, snapped a picture of Snowflake curled against her, and sent it back.

But when the screen went dark, she sat staring at her reflection in the glass, her chest tight. She hadn’t realized until Emma and Henry left just how much she’d grown used to them being here—how much she’d started to imagine them staying.

And now, for the first time in a very long time, Regina Mills felt the sharp ache of loneliness.

🦢♛ 

Back in Boston, life quickly slipped back into its familiar rhythm for Emma and Henry, though Emma carried the memory of that New Year’s Eve kiss with her like a secret she couldn’t shake.

Money was still painfully tight, but Emma did everything she could to shield Henry from it. She packed his lunches, made his breakfasts and dinners, and smiled through it all—even if it meant she herself only ate one meal a day. Her health insurance didn’t cover OB-GYN visits, so she made the difficult decision to skip prenatal care. She told herself it would be fine; she hadn’t seen a doctor while pregnant with Henry either, and things had turned out well enough. She had already paid a lot for the first appointment she got and she knew she couldn't repeat it.

With the baby on the way, Emma began rearranging their small apartment. It only had two bedrooms, and she refused to make Henry share with a newborn. Instead, she cleared out her own room, setting it up for the baby, and moved herself to the couch in the living room. At night, after Henry was asleep, she hunched over her old laptop on the coffee table, tapping away at the beginnings of a new book.

The brand-new laptop Regina had given her for Christmas remained untouched, still in its box on the kitchen table. Emma had thought about selling it more than once—God knows they could use the money—but every time she looked at it, guilt stopped her. It was a gift from Regina, and selling it felt wrong.

As for the baby, Emma didn’t buy anything new. Instead, she asked her neighbor to help haul up boxes from the basement: Henry’s old crib, blankets, and other things she had kept. Back then, she hadn’t known if Henry would be a boy or a girl, so most of it was neutral, and she figured it would work again this time. Some of the items weren’t new even when she’d first bought them, but Emma didn’t care. She promised herself she’d buy new things once the baby was born, when she knew the gender—and when she had a little more money in her pocket.

Henry noticed the changes almost immediately, even if Emma tried her hardest to make them invisible. His mom had moved out of her room, insisting it was “just more practical” for the baby to have the space. She said the couch was fine, that it was “cozier than it looked.” But Henry wasn’t fooled. He’d caught her rubbing her back more than once in the morning, her movements stiff from another night on the lumpy cushions.

He also noticed her eating less. Emma always made sure his lunchbox was full, his plate at dinner warm and generous, but more often than not, she only picked at her food. She brushed it off when he asked—“Not that hungry, kid. You know me.” But Henry knew her better than she thought. He remembered how she’d handled tough times before, the way she sacrificed quietly. He didn’t say anything, but he started to notice patterns: her setting her fork down early, her portion shrinking, the way she pretended her ginger ale was enough to “fill her up.”

Henry didn’t call her out, though. Instead, he started saving part of his lunch some days—tucking away an apple or half a sandwich—to bring home for her, leaving it in the fridge with a note like, “Didn’t want this, maybe you do.” He didn’t want to embarrass her, but he wanted her to eat.

The room transformation fascinated him too. Seeing his old crib back together made him feel strange—like he was both too grown-up and too little at the same time. Sometimes, he’d stand in the doorway and imagine a tiny sibling sleeping there, imagine what it would be like not to be the only one anymore. He didn’t mind losing the space, not really. What bothered him was watching his mom give up her comfort so easily, like she didn’t matter.

Henry didn’t say any of this out loud. He just hugged her a little tighter when she said goodnight, or stayed up later to keep her company while she wrote, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was watching her as carefully as she was watching him.

🦢♛ 

Every morning, Regina snapped a picture of Snowflake and sent it to Henry and Emma. Sometimes it was the kitten curled up in a sunbeam on the window seat, sometimes caught mid-pounce on a toy mouse, sometimes stretched out shamelessly on Regina’s pillow. Snowflake was the perfect excuse to stay connected, to bridge the distance without overstepping.

Henry always responded with a quick “aww” or a string of heart emojis. Emma’s replies were shorter. “Cute.” “She’s growing fast.” Sometimes just a thumbs-up. Regina told herself it was fine, that Emma was busy with Henry and her bookstore, that she shouldn’t expect more than that. But deep down, every clipped answer stung.

She thought about the kiss more than she cared to admit. The way Emma had leaned into her for a breathless second before fear took over and she ran. Regina replayed it at night, lying awake in the too-quiet house, wondering if she should have stopped her, wondered if Emma regretted it.

The mansion felt emptier than it had in years. Snowflake filled some of the silence, but Regina couldn’t help missing Emma's soft smile and Henry’s laugh.

Zelena teased her about it, of course. “Honestly, sis, it’s pathetic. You’re pining like a schoolgirl. Write her a proper message instead of hiding behind cat pictures.” Regina always deflected with a glare and a sharp comment, but Zelena wasn’t wrong. She wanted to write more. She wanted to ask Emma how she was really doing, if she was sleeping, if she’d been to a doctor, if she thought about her too. But she didn’t dare.

Instead, she focused on work, on Robin, on volunteering at community events. She smiled, she played the part, but every evening, when the house grew quiet again, she checked her phone one more time—half-hoping for a longer message, half-dreading that Emma might stop responding altogether.

It was only a month, but it stretched endlessly. Regina realized she wasn’t just missing Emma and Henry. She was missing the way they had made her house feel like a home.

🦢♛ 

Emma answered Regina’s daily cat pictures, but never with more than a few words. Sometimes she stared at the photos longer than she should have, zooming in on the soft gray fur, the cozy blanket, the faint glimpse of Regina’s manicured hand holding Snowflake steady. She wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, but every time she started typing, she froze. What was there to say after that kiss? Thanks for making me feel something I’m too scared to want?

Instead, she stuck to safe replies. “Cute.” “Wow, she’s getting big.” She hated herself for how cold it looked, but anything more felt dangerous.

Life in Boston didn’t leave her much space to think anyway—or so she told herself. Rent was looming, the bookstore was quiet, and she was skipping more meals than she wanted to admit. She told Henry she wasn’t hungry, told herself she was used to it. But sometimes she caught him watching her with a frown, too smart for his age, too aware.

At night, when Henry was asleep, Emma sat at the coffee table with her old laptop, forcing herself to write. The new story was taking shape, but she felt hollow, like something was missing from every page. The untouched box with the laptop Regina had given her stayed on the kitchen table, an accusing reminder. She couldn’t bring herself to sell it, but she couldn’t bring herself to use it either. Using it would mean letting Regina into her life again.

And yet… Emma missed her. More than she thought she would. She missed breakfasts at Granny’s, missed Henry laughing with Robin, missed the way Regina could be sharp one second and soft the next. Most of all, she missed the way Regina looked at her on New Year’s Eve, right before the world fell away and Emma had kissed her back.

She told herself it was better this way, that Storybrooke had been a bubble, a holiday escape. Back in Boston, she had to be practical, grounded. Regina was from another world—wealth, stability, certainty. Emma was just a girl from Boston, scraping by with a bookstore and a baby on the way.

But no matter how many times she tried to bury it, the truth followed her into every quiet moment: she wanted to see Regina again.

🦢♛ 

It was early February when Regina’s phone lit up with Emma’s number. Her heart skipped—Emma never called. Without a second thought, she answered.

But it wasn’t Emma’s voice she heard.

“Regina?” Henry’s voice came through the line, high and panicked. “There’s something wrong with Mom. I don’t know what to do.”

Chapter Text

“There’s something wrong with Mom. I don’t know what to do.”

“Henry, what happened?” Regina asked, already on edge.

“Mom said she felt dizzy, and then—then she just passed out. I don’t know what to do. I tried calling Liz, but she didn’t answer. You’re the only other person I know in her contacts.”

Of course, Emma hadn’t told Henry about 911, Regina thought, snatching up her car keys. She forced her voice to stay calm.

“Listen to me, Henry. Call 911—that’s the emergency number. Tell them your mom fainted, and they’ll send an ambulance to take her to the hospital. I’ll come as fast as I can.” The drive would be long, and she already knew she’d push the speed limit.

“Call me back as soon as you’ve spoken with them, alright?”

🦢♛

Henry’s frightened “okay” came through the line before it cut. Regina shoved the phone into her coat pocket, grabbed her purse almost without thinking, and was in her car within moments. The engine roared to life, and she pulled out of the driveway faster than she ever would have under normal circumstances.

Her hands were tight on the wheel, knuckles pale. Boston wasn’t close. She knew it, but she couldn’t sit still in Storybrooke while Emma was lying unconscious with Henry terrified beside her. Every scenario—Emma collapsing alone, Henry too panicked to explain things clearly, the baby she carried—spun through her mind until her chest ached.

Her phone buzzed, vibrating across the passenger seat. She put it on speaker.

“Regina?” Henry’s voice cracked, but there was steadiness in it too. “They—they’re here. The ambulance. They’re putting Mom inside.”

Regina let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Good. That’s good, Henry. Did you lock the door before you left with them?”

“Yes. I grabbed Mom’s purse too, like they said. We’re going to the hospital.”

“You did perfectly,” Regina reassured, her throat tight. “Stay with her. I’ll meet you there.”

“Promise?” His voice was so small, so young.

“I promise.” She pressed harder on the gas, ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes. “I won’t let you go through this alone.”

The call ended, leaving only the sound of the tires on the highway. For the first time since Emma fled from her kiss, Regina admitted it to herself—her feelings weren’t something she could shove away. Not anymore. She wasn’t just racing toward Emma out of obligation. She was racing toward her because she couldn’t imagine life without her.

🦢♛

The back of the ambulance was colder than Henry expected, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. He sat on the narrow bench against the wall, clutching Emma’s purse to his chest like it was a life jacket. His eyes kept darting to his mom, lying on the stretcher with wires stuck to her skin and a mask over her nose and mouth.

She looked so small, so pale. Not like his mom at all.

One of the paramedics kept checking her vitals, murmuring things to the driver he didn’t understand. Another sat near him, speaking softly. “She’s stable right now, kiddo. You did the right thing calling for help.”

Henry nodded, but he didn’t feel like he’d done anything right. His stomach hurt, and he couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. “She—she doesn’t eat a lot,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Sometimes I think she skips dinner when she says she’s ‘not hungry.’ Maybe that’s why she’s sick?”

The paramedic gave him a gentle look, but didn’t say much. Just patted his knee.

Henry leaned forward, reaching out until his fingers brushed Emma’s hand. Her skin was warm, but limp. He whispered, too low for the paramedics to hear, “Please be okay, Mom. I don’t care about anything else. Just—please be okay.”

When the siren wailed louder and the ambulance sped up, Henry squeezed her hand tighter. He thought about Regina’s voice on the phone, steady when he felt like he was falling apart. She said she’d come. She promised. And Henry believed her.

🦢♛

The last hour felt like the longest of Regina’s life. The snow-slick roads blurred past as she pushed her car harder than she should have, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Every mile closer to Boston, the image of Emma collapsing haunted her more vividly.

When she finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, she didn’t bother looking for a proper spot—just swung into the first space she found and all but ran to the entrance. The automatic doors hissed open, letting in the sharp smell of antiseptic and too-bright light.

Her eyes scanned the waiting room until she spotted him.

Henry sat hunched in one of the plastic chairs, Emma’s purse clutched tightly against his chest. His small shoulders were shaking, and his eyes were red-rimmed, wide and scared in a way Regina had never seen before.

“Henry,” she breathed, crossing the room in seconds.

He looked up, and the moment he saw her, he scrambled off the chair and threw himself into her arms. She caught him easily, pulling him close, holding him as tightly as he held her.

“She just—she just fell down, Regina,” he stammered into her coat, his voice muffled and broken. “I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t. They put her in the ambulance, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought—” His breath hitched, and he clung tighter.

Regina pressed her lips to the top of his hair, stroking his back in slow circles. “You did everything right, Henry. Do you hear me? Everything. You were so brave.”

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“So am I,” Regina admitted softly, because lying would do neither of them any good. She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “But we’re here now, and we’ll get through this together. Your mom is strong, Henry. She won’t leave you. She won’t leave us.”

Henry nodded shakily, though his eyes filled again. He let her guide him back into the chair, but this time he leaned against her side, still gripping Emma’s purse like it was the only anchor he had.

Regina tightened her arm around him, eyes fixed on the double doors that led deeper into the ER. Waiting had never been harder.

The minutes dragged like hours. Every time a nurse or doctor pushed through the swinging ER doors, Regina’s heart leapt into her throat only to sink again when they walked past without stopping.

Henry hadn’t let go of her hand since she sat down, his small fingers clenched so tightly around hers that she could feel the tremor in them. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, a silent promise she’d stay right there.

Finally, the doors opened again and a doctor in pale scrubs scanned the room. “Family of Emma Swan?”

Regina and Henry both shot to their feet. “We’re here,” Regina answered quickly, her voice steadier than she felt.

The doctor’s gaze softened as he took them in—a frightened boy and a woman trying her best not to crumble. “Emma is stable. She collapsed due to exhaustion and dehydration. From what we can tell, she hasn’t been eating or drinking properly, and with her pregnancy, her body simply couldn’t keep up.”

Henry’s face crumpled, and Regina squeezed his hand tighter. “Can we see her?” she asked.

“Yes, but only one at a time for now,” the doctor said. His tone gentled further as he looked at Henry. “Your mom is going to be okay. She just needs rest and care.”

Henry nodded, but tears slid silently down his cheeks anyway. Regina knelt to his level, brushing them away with her thumbs. “Do you want to go in first, sweetheart?”

He shook his head quickly. “You go. You’ll know what to do.”

Her heart ached at the trust in his words. She kissed his forehead, then straightened and followed the doctor through the sterile corridor.

When they entered the small room, Regina stopped in the doorway. Emma lay on the bed, pale against the white sheets, an IV line feeding into her arm. Despite the harsh lighting, her face looked softer in sleep, her lips parted, strands of golden hair spread across the pillow.

Regina exhaled shakily, the tension of the drive and the waiting hitting her all at once. She stepped closer, her hand hovering for a moment before brushing a lock of hair from Emma’s face.

“You scared us,” she whispered, her throat tight.

Emma stirred faintly, her lashes fluttering. Regina sat down on the chair beside her bed, taking her hand gently, grounding herself in the simple warmth of Emma’s skin.

For the first time since the phone call, Regina allowed herself to breathe.

Regina sat there, Emma’s cool hand cradled between both of hers, letting the steady rhythm of the IV pump calm her nerves. She almost didn’t notice when the door creaked open again and Henry peeked inside, his face tight with worry.

“The doctor said I could come,” he whispered, as though afraid to disturb his mother’s sleep.

Regina rose immediately and beckoned him forward. “Of course, darling. Come.”

Henry crept to the bedside, his eyes widening at the sight of Emma so pale and still. For a second, he froze, clutching Regina’s sleeve like he might bolt. She bent down, murmuring softly, “She’s okay. Just very tired. Look—she’s breathing, she’s safe.”

That reassurance gave him courage. He shuffled closer and slid his small hand into Emma’s free one. “Hi, Mom,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “I’m here. Regina’s here too. We didn’t leave you.”

Regina laid a hand gently on his shoulder. She could feel how tense he was, standing so straight, like he was trying to be strong for his mother. “She’ll be so glad to hear your voice when she wakes,” she said.

Henry leaned carefully against the side of the bed, his cheek almost touching Emma’s arm. “You promise she’ll be okay?” he asked without looking up, his voice so small it nearly broke Regina’s heart.

“I promise,” Regina said firmly, even though part of her was making the promise to herself as well.

The three of them stayed like that—Emma resting, Henry holding on, and Regina keeping watch—until the quiet hum of the machines became almost soothing. For the first time since that panicked call, Regina felt a fragile sense of peace settle around them.

Emma stirred, her eyelashes fluttering as she slowly came back to herself. The first thing she saw was Henry, dozing against her arm with his hand still clutched around hers. The second was Regina, sitting straight-backed in the chair beside the bed, their eyes meeting the moment Emma opened hers.

“Regina?” Emma’s voice was scratchy, soft with confusion. “What—what are you doing here?”

Before Regina could answer, Henry startled awake, springing up. “Mom! You’re awake!” He squeezed her hand tightly, relief pouring off him.

Emma managed a weak smile for him, but as her surroundings registered—the IV, the hospital gown, the faint antiseptic smell—her face went pale again. She pushed herself up slightly, her breath catching.

“Oh no… no, no, no.” Panic sharpened her voice. “I can’t be here. I can’t afford this, Henry. We—we don’t have the money for this kind of bill.”

Henry’s smile faltered instantly, confusion and fear replacing it. “But Mom, you fainted, you had to come—”

Emma shook her head, tears threatening. “We’ll never be able to pay for this. They’ll send us home with a bill bigger than our rent. I can’t—”

“Emma.” Regina’s voice cut through her spiral, calm but firm. She reached forward, resting a hand over Emma’s. “Stop. Don’t do this to yourself right now.”

Emma met her gaze, trembling, torn between fear and exhaustion. “But, Regina, you don’t understand, I—”

“I do.” Regina’s tone softened. “And you don’t need to worry about any of it tonight. You need to rest. That’s all.”

Emma bit her lip, trying to argue, but the warmth in Regina’s eyes—the same calm Henry had leaned on earlier—held her still. For the first time since waking, she drew a shaky breath that wasn’t laced with panic.

Henry climbed carefully onto the side of the bed, leaning against her. “Please, Mom. Don’t think about money. Just… stay with me.”

Emma wrapped an arm around him, her hand brushing his messy hair. She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing the tears. But the worry still lingered on her face, as though she knew peace could only last so long.

Regina could see the storm of panic still flickering behind Emma’s tired eyes, even as she held Henry close. She knew that once the nurses left, once the room grew quiet again, Emma’s thoughts would spiral straight back to numbers, bills, and the crushing weight she always carried alone.

So Regina leaned forward slightly, her voice low but steady. “Emma, listen to me. I’ll take care of the bill.”

Emma blinked, startled. “What? No—you can’t—”

“I can, and I will.” Regina didn’t leave room for argument, her tone even but resolute. “You fainted, Emma. That is not something you brush off or ignore. You and your child—both of your children—deserve to be safe and cared for. Let me do this.”

Emma shook her head, tears welling up. “I can’t accept that, Regina. I already owe you too much. You gave Henry games, you gave me a laptop I still haven’t even touched, and now this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to save me.”

“I don’t feel that way,” Regina said softly. Her hand squeezed Emma’s, grounding her. “This isn’t charity. It’s… because I care. Because I want you to be okay.”

Henry, still pressed against Emma, looked up between them with wide eyes. “Mom… please let her. I was so scared. I don’t want you to get sick again just because of money.”

Emma’s heart cracked at his words. She cupped his cheek, kissing his temple, before turning back to Regina. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “I don’t know how to let people help me. I’ve never… had that.”

Regina’s expression softened. “Then maybe it’s time you start.”

For a long moment, Emma just looked at her—really looked—seeing the steadiness, the warmth, the truth behind her words. She felt Henry’s hand in hers, Regina’s other hand still covering hers, and something inside her gave way.

She let out a shaky breath and whispered, “Okay.”

Regina gave the faintest smile, relief hidden in her eyes. “Good. Now rest. We’ll deal with the details later. Tonight, just focus on healing.”

Emma finally lay back against the pillow, still uneasy but too tired to keep fighting. She glanced at Regina once more, silently mouthing thank you, before her eyes fluttered shut again.

Regina stayed right where she was, keeping vigil.

A knock at the door broke the fragile calm in the room. A doctor stepped inside, clipboard in hand, offering a professional but kind smile.

“Miss Swan? I’m Dr. Miller. I’ve reviewed your case.” He glanced briefly at Henry and Regina before focusing on Emma. “You experienced a severe fainting spell caused by exhaustion, low blood sugar, and dehydration. It’s not uncommon in pregnancy, but it is concerning when combined with your current stress levels. We’d like to keep you here for at least a week for monitoring. That way, we can ensure both you and the baby remain stable.”

Emma sat up a little straighter, panic flashing in her eyes. “A week? I can’t—Henry has school, the store—”

“Emma.” Regina’s voice was firm but gentle, cutting off her spiral. She reached across and touched Emma’s hand again. “You need this. And Henry won’t be left adrift—I’ll take care of him.”

Emma blinked at her, startled. “Regina, you can’t just drop everything—”

“Yes, I can.” Regina’s tone left no room for doubt. “Henry will stay with me. I’ll get him to school, make sure he does his homework, and yes—feed him properly.” Her eyes softened as she added, “He’ll be safe. And you’ll have peace of mind knowing that.”

Henry perked up, almost hopeful. “Really? I can stay with you, Regina?”

Regina turned to him, giving a reassuring nod. “Of course, darling. I’d be honored to have you.”

Emma looked between them, torn. Her pride screamed at her to refuse, but Henry’s small, eager smile and Regina’s steady gaze pinned her in place. Slowly, she exhaled. “I don’t… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to.” Regina leaned closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Just focus on getting well. Let us take care of the rest.”

Emma’s throat tightened as tears threatened, but for once, she didn’t argue. She squeezed Henry’s hand, then Regina’s, silently agreeing.

The doctor nodded. “Good. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Miss Swan, you’ll be in good hands here.” He left them alone again, the room settling into quiet.

Henry, brimming with energy despite the scare, turned to Regina. “Can we bring Snowflake too? Mom will like the pictures even more if I’m with her.”

Emma chuckled softly, even as her eyes welled. “You really like it with Regina, huh?”

Henry grinned. “Yeah. It feels… safe.”

Emma looked back at Regina then, heart heavy but oddly lighter at the same time, realizing just how true Henry’s words were.

🦢♛

When Regina stepped into Emma and Henry’s apartment, the reality of their situation hit her like a blow. The space was tidy but worn, the couch clearly doubling as a bed, with a blanket folded on one end and a pillow tucked in the corner. The kitchen drew her eye next—she opened the fridge and found it nearly empty, just a carton of milk, a few leftovers in containers, and some condiments.

No wonder Emma had collapsed. She wasn’t taking care of herself at all.

Regina forced herself to keep her expression neutral for Henry’s sake. It was Sunday evening, and the boy needed a proper meal in his stomach before school the next day. She turned to him with a gentle smile.

“Henry, what do you usually have for dinner?”

He shrugged, casual but a little sheepish. “It depends. If Mom just went grocery shopping, she’ll cook something fresh. But if not, she just makes… you know, something from a box.”

Regina nodded slowly, her heart twisting. Sometimes she forgot that Emma and Henry lived a very different reality than the privilege she had always known. A reality where meals weren’t guaranteed, where sacrifices were made quietly so children wouldn’t notice.

“Well,” Regina said, soft but decisive, “tonight you deserve something better.” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through takeout options. “How about pizza, or maybe Chinese?”

Henry’s face lit up instantly. “Pizza!” he said without hesitation.

Regina allowed herself a small smile as she placed the order. As she hung up, she made a silent vow: while Emma was in the hospital, Henry wouldn’t feel the lack of anything. Not food, not comfort, not security.

The pizza arrived quickly, the smell of melted cheese and garlic filling the small apartment. Regina set the boxes on the table, insisting Henry sit while she poured him a glass of juice from the fridge.

They ate together at the kitchen table, Henry digging in with the hunger of a growing boy. Regina smiled faintly at his enthusiasm, but she couldn’t help noticing how he ate like someone who wasn’t sure when the next good meal would come.

“You like pizza, huh?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

Henry nodded, his cheeks full. After swallowing, he added, “Yeah. Mom usually doesn’t buy takeout. She says it’s too expensive.”

Regina gave a small hum of acknowledgment. “Your mom is very good at taking care of you,” she said honestly. “She makes sure you have what you need, even when it’s hard for her.”

Henry poked at a slice of pepperoni, his expression thoughtful. “I know. She skips stuff for herself, though. Like… food sometimes. I pretend I don’t notice, but I do. She tells me she already ate, but she hasn’t.”

Regina’s chest tightened. She reached across the table, gently laying her hand over his. “That’s not something you should have to worry about, Henry. Your mom loves you more than anything in the world. She’d do anything to make sure you’re okay. But it’s not fair to her—or to you—that she has to carry so much on her own.”

Henry looked down, quiet for a moment before glancing back up at her. “She’s not really alone anymore, right? You’re here.”

The words caught Regina off guard, but she didn’t let it show. She squeezed his hand lightly and offered a warm smile. “That’s right. I’m here. And I promise, I’ll help however I can.”

Henry’s shoulders relaxed at that, a faint smile appearing as he reached for another slice. For the first time that evening, Regina felt like maybe he believed things would be okay—and maybe, just maybe, Emma would too.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Regina woke early, stiff from a restless night on Emma’s couch. She padded into the small kitchen and started preparing breakfast for Henry before gently waking him at the time Emma had told her.

She quickly realized how independent he was—dressing himself, brushing his teeth, gathering his school things. Still, there was a heaviness to his steps, and when it came time to leave for school, he lingered by the door, his face clouded with reluctance.

Regina crouched down so she could meet his eyes. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”

Henry hesitated before admitting in a small voice, “I was supposed to do my homework yesterday afternoon…”

Understanding flickered across Regina’s face. “And with everything that happened, you didn’t.”

He nodded, guilt welling up, his voice wobbling. “The teacher is going to punish me. I’ve never gotten punished before.” His eyes brimmed with tears, and before he could break down, Regina wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

“Oh, Henry,” she murmured, rubbing his back gently. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll talk to your teacher. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

He sniffled but leaned into her embrace, his head resting against her.

After a moment, Regina smoothed his hair and gently shifted the subject. “I didn’t find anything here to prepare your lunch. Would you like some money to buy something at school, or would you prefer I bring you lunch during your break? I’ll be going shopping before visiting your mom at the hospital.”

Henry lifted his head, his eyes brighter now. “Can you bring me my lunch? That way you can give me news about Mom.”

Regina smiled softly and nodded. “Of course. Would you like something in particular?”

Henry shrugged. “Most of the time, Mom just makes me a sandwich with whatever she finds in the fridge.”

“Then how about I buy some proper things so I can make you a really good sandwich?” Regina suggested warmly. “And maybe add some fruit, a yogurt, and juice?”

Henry’s face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. He wasn’t used to having that much for lunch, and the thought made him excited.

“Good,” Regina said with a small smile. “Now let’s go, or we’ll be late.” She picked up her purse and reached for Henry’s backpack. But Henry quickly slipped it off her shoulder and slung it over his own, then reached for her hand.

The gesture surprised Regina at first—so simple, so trusting. But she tightened her fingers around his and led him out the door.

The walk to Henry’s school was short. Once they arrived, Regina explained to his teacher what had happened the day before—that Emma was in the hospital, that Henry hadn’t been able to finish his homework, and that he might not be fully focused in class. She added her phone number to his file so the school could call her if anything came up.

With Henry safely at school, Regina headed down the street to the small market near Emma’s apartment. She had already made a mental list: bread, ham, turkey, butter, yogurt, juice, tomatoes, biscuits, milk, and a few extra things she knew she and Henry might need in the coming days. She added items Emma would need once she was home again.

Her hand stilled when she passed a shelf stacked with prenatal vitamins. She hadn’t planned on buying them, but the thought struck her immediately: Emma would never purchase them for herself, but she certainly needed them. Without a second thought, Regina slipped two boxes into her basket.

Back at Emma’s apartment, she unloaded the groceries and set about making Henry’s lunch—fresh sandwich, fruit, yogurt, and juice neatly packed together. Satisfied, she tucked it into a bag and set off toward the hospital to see Emma.

🦢♛

When Regina arrived at the hospital, she was relieved to find Emma awake. The blonde was propped up against the pillows, pale but alert, a ginger ale on the tray beside her.

“You’re back,” Emma said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Of course I am,” Regina replied, setting her coat over the chair. “I wanted to check on you before I head to Henry’s school with his lunch.”

Emma’s eyes softened. “How is he?”

“Worried, but he’s managing,” Regina assured her. “I explained everything to his teacher this morning, so he doesn’t need to worry about unfinished homework or being distracted. And I packed him a proper lunch—he seemed excited about that.”

Emma chuckled, though the sound was tired. “He’ll be spoiled by the time I get home.”

“Well,” Regina said with a small smirk, “he deserves to be.”

Silence hung between them for a moment. They both avoided the unspoken memory of New Year’s Eve, neither quite brave enough to bring it up. Regina busied herself by adjusting the blanket over Emma’s lap, as though the small gesture excused the lingering closeness.

Emma broke the quiet first. “They… they did an ultrasound yesterday.”

Regina looked up, curious.

Emma’s lips curved into a shy, almost disbelieving smile. “It’s a girl.”

For a moment, Regina’s chest tightened with something she couldn’t name. “A girl,” she repeated softly, as though tasting the words.

Emma nodded. “When I was pregnant with Henry, I didn’t get any of this. No ultrasounds, no doctor visits. Just… waiting. Hoping he’d be okay. This time, at least, I know a little more.” She paused, her hand instinctively brushing over the curve of her belly. “It feels… different.”

Regina sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze gentle. “You deserve to feel cared for, Emma. Both you and your daughter.”

Emma swallowed, looking away as if the weight of those words was too much. “I’m not used to it.”

Regina didn’t push. She simply reached out, resting her hand lightly over Emma’s for a brief, grounding moment before standing again. “I’ll bring Henry his lunch, then come back later. Try to rest.”

Emma nodded, watching her with something unreadable in her eyes as Regina left the room.

🦢♛

When Regina arrived at Henry’s school just before lunch break, the playground was already filling with chatter and laughter. She spotted him right away, sitting on the steps with his backpack beside him, scanning the crowd like he was waiting for her.

The moment he saw Regina, his face lit up. He hopped to his feet and ran over. “Did you see Mom? How is she?”

Regina handed him the lunch bag before answering. “I did, and she’s doing better. The doctors are keeping her for a little while to make sure she rests, but she’s safe.”

Henry let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. “Good.” He clutched the lunch bag like it was something precious, then peeked inside. His eyes widened. “Whoa. You made all this?”

Regina allowed herself a small smile. “Of course. A sandwich with turkey, tomato, and lettuce, yogurt, fruit, juice, and a little treat.”

Henry pulled out the small pack of biscuits, grinning ear to ear. “Mom never packs this much.” Then, more quietly, “She… she doesn’t eat much herself.”

Regina’s chest tightened, but she kept her voice even. “Your mother makes sure you have everything first. That’s what she does—she takes care of you. But right now, it’s our turn to take care of her. And of you.”

Henry looked up at her with those bright, earnest eyes that reminded her so much of Emma. “Thanks, Regina. I know Mom trusts you. I do too.”

Before Regina could respond, the bell rang, and Henry gave her a quick hug before hurrying toward his classmates, lunch bag swinging at his side.

Regina stood there a moment longer, watching him disappear into the crowd, before turning back toward the hospital, her mind already full of Emma.

🦢♛

Henry sat down on the edge of the playground with his lunch Regina had just brought, still smiling at the yogurt and biscuits she’d packed. But it didn’t take long before the boys who usually picked on him noticed.

“Hey, Henry,” one of them sneered, nudging the other. “Who was that? We always see your mom picking you up. That lady wasn’t her.”

Henry froze for a second, then tightened his grip on the juice box. He was tired of them asking about his dad like it was some missing puzzle piece in his life. Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.
“She is. You’re always asking where my dad is—well, she is.”

The boys burst out laughing. “She’s a girl, she can’t be your dad!”

Henry stood up, heat rushing to his cheeks but his voice steady. “A family isn’t just a mom and a dad. Some families have two dads. Some have two moms. And some kids just have one parent. But that doesn’t make it less of a family.”

The laughter faltered a little, but one of the boys crossed his arms. “So what, she’s like your other mom?”

Henry nodded firmly. “Yeah. She’s my mom’s girlfriend. Maybe even her fiancée.” The words slipped out before he could think too hard about them, but saying them felt… right. Like something he wanted to be true.

The boys exchanged looks, clearly not sure how to respond. Finally, one just muttered, “Whatever,” and they walked away.

Henry sat back down, stabbing at his sandwich with determination. But guilt started to settle in his stomach—he didn’t like lying, especially not about something that important. He knew he’d have to tell Regina what he’d said.

🦢♛

After dropping off Henry’s lunch at school, Regina headed straight back to the hospital. She slipped quietly into Emma’s room, where Emma was resting with her eyes closed. At the sound of the door, Emma stirred and blinked awake.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice still soft from sleep. “You’re already back. How’s Henry?”

“He seemed fine,” Regina reassured her, moving closer to the bed. “I’ll bring him to see you right after I pick him up from school.”

Emma nodded, but then her gaze sharpened. She frowned lightly, pointing at Regina’s perfectly tailored outfit. “Wait a second—you came here yesterday in that. You don’t have anything with you, do you?”

Regina arched a brow, almost amused by Emma’s concern. “Don’t worry about me. Zelena’s bringing some of my things. I’ll meet her at your apartment before I go pick up Henry.” A faint smile tugged at her lips as she added, “She’s even bringing Snowflake, since Henry wanted her around.”

Emma huffed a little laugh. “That cat might be the only reason he’s not glued to my side in this hospital.”

Regina’s expression softened. “Maybe. But he’s doing well, Emma. Better than you give him credit for.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “You don’t need to worry about a thing this week. I’ll handle Henry. You just… focus on getting better.”

Emma looked at her, touched and uncomfortable all at once. She hated needing help, hated being seen as weak—but there was something steady in Regina’s tone that made her want to lean into it.

🦢♛

Later, Regina met Zelena at Emma’s apartment. She gave her sister an update about Emma, collected the bag of clothes Zelena had brought, along with Snowflake, and brought everything inside. Before leaving again, she placed Snowflake in the bathroom so the cat wouldn’t cause trouble while she was gone.

When she picked Henry up from school, he walked beside her in thoughtful silence. Halfway to the car, he finally spoke.

“Regina,” he said hesitantly, “I did something I’m not proud of…”

Regina looked at him in surprise, slowing her steps. “What is it, Henry?” she asked gently.

“I lied. To those boys who always make fun of me,” he admitted, eyes dropping to the ground.

Regina immediately knelt so she was at his level, her expression more concerned than stern. “What happened?”

Henry fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. “You know how they tease me because I don’t have a dad? Well… after they saw you bring me lunch today, they asked who you were. I told them you’re my second parent. And I said families don’t always have to be a mom and a dad.”

For a moment, Regina was caught off guard. But instead of anger, a soft smile tugged at her lips.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she reassured him, brushing a hand over his hair. “I don’t mind being your second mom if it helps those boys leave you alone. But we’ll need to tell your mother, so she isn’t surprised if the story makes its way back to other parents.”

Henry’s face lit up at her understanding, and he leaned into the kiss she pressed to his forehead. Then he straightened, following her toward the car with a lighter step.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Regina said as they reached the curb. “Zelena dropped Snowflake off this morning.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Snowflake is here?”

“Yes,” Regina chuckled. “She’s waiting for you at the apartment. You’ll see her once we get back from visiting your mom.”

🦢♛

When they arrived at the hospital, Emma was sitting up in bed, sipping a cup of ginger ale.

“Hey, Mom!” Henry said, rushing forward to wrap his arms around her.

“Hey, kid,” Emma murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, worry still flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah, a lot better,” she assured him with a soft smile. “Actually, I have something for you.” She reached over to her bedside table and handed him a small piece of paper.

Henry’s eyes widened as he realized what it was—an ultrasound photo.

“Here,” Emma said gently. “I thought you’d like to have this one to go with the other. It’s your little sister.”

His jaw dropped. “Sister? Really?”

Emma nodded, watching the joy bloom on his face. Henry quickly dug into his backpack, pulling out the first ultrasound picture. He compared the two, holding them side by side.

“She’s bigger than last time,” he said proudly.

Emma chuckled, her heart swelling at his excitement.

Regina, who had been watching quietly, reached into her purse and pulled out a few bills. “Henry, why don’t you go get yourself a snack from the vending machine down the hall? I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”

Henry glanced between them but didn’t argue. “Okay.” He took the money and slipped out the door, already deciding between candy or chips.

As soon as the door closed, Emma arched a brow. “That sounded serious. What’s going on?”

Regina hesitated only a moment before sitting down on the chair by Emma’s bed. “It’s about Henry. Something he told me after school.”

Emma tensed immediately. “What happened? Did something go wrong?”

“No, nothing like that.” Regina shook her head, trying to ease her worry. “But… he admitted he lied to those boys who tease him.”

Emma frowned. “Lied about what?”

Regina folded her hands in her lap. “They’ve been making fun of him for not having a father. When they saw me bring him lunch today, they asked who I was. He told them I was his second parent. And… he also said families don’t always have to be a mom and a dad. That sometimes there can be two dads, or two moms.”

Emma blinked, taken aback. “He said you were his second parent?”

Regina nodded softly. “Yes. He even told them I was your girlfriend—or maybe your fiancée. I don’t think he meant any harm, Emma. He just wanted to protect himself. But I thought you should know in case it comes up later.”

Emma leaned back against her pillows, processing. A laugh—half nervous, half touched—slipped out. “Wow. Leave it to Henry.” She rubbed her stomach absentmindedly. “I guess he’s not wrong about families not all looking the same…”

Regina tilted her head, watching Emma closely. “You’re not upset?”

Emma shook her head slowly. “No. Just… surprised. And maybe a little worried. But mostly—” She smiled faintly. “—proud of him.”

Emma let out a slow breath. “He’s braver than I was at his age. I mean, to stand up for himself like that? To stand up for us—even if it was a lie?” She gave a small shake of her head. “I would’ve just kept quiet.”

Regina leaned forward slightly, her eyes soft. “He’s brave because of you, Emma. You’ve raised him to know what matters—to value kindness, to believe in love in all its forms. That’s not nothing.”

Emma met her gaze, and for a heartbeat, the air between them tightened. She looked away first, suddenly tugging at the blanket covering her legs. “Still, I don’t like the idea of him lying. It’s not who he is. I could hear it in his voice—he probably hated doing it.”

“That’s why he told me right away,” Regina replied gently. “He trusts us—both of us—with the truth. That’s what matters.”

Emma let out a short laugh, though her eyes shimmered with something more vulnerable. “You really don’t mind, huh? Him saying you’re my… girlfriend.”

Regina arched an elegant brow. “Should I mind?”

Emma’s throat went dry. She shifted uncomfortably under Regina’s steady gaze, trying to mask the flicker of warmth in her chest. “I just… don’t want you to feel like he’s pushing you into something you don’t want.”

Regina’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks, though her voice stayed quiet, careful. “Emma, if Henry were making things up entirely, I’d correct him. But the idea of being seen as part of his family…” She paused, her tone softening, “…doesn’t feel wrong.”

Emma blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in Regina’s words. Her chest tightened with something she wasn’t ready to name. She quickly looked toward the door, as if expecting Henry to reappear any second.

“You’re… something else, you know that?” she murmured, her voice lower now.

Regina tilted her head, her eyes glinting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable—just charged, the way it always seemed to be when they got too close to truths neither dared to fully speak.

Emma traced the rim of her ginger ale cup with her fingertip, avoiding Regina’s eyes. “You really don’t mind him saying that? That you’re my… girlfriend?”

Regina’s brows lifted slightly, but her expression remained calm. “Should I?” she countered softly.

Emma’s laugh came out shaky, more like an exhale than amusement. “I don’t know. It just feels like… like maybe he sees something I can’t admit.” She stopped, realizing what she’d just said.

Regina leaned in, her gaze sharpening, searching Emma’s face. “Something you can’t admit?”

Emma’s lips parted, and for one reckless heartbeat, the words hovered right there on her tongue—I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About that kiss. She swallowed hard instead, forcing herself to look away.

“I mean… that he wants a bigger family,” she said quickly, the excuse clumsy on her tongue. “He’s always wanted that. He sees someone kind to him, and he just… grabs on.”

Regina studied her in silence, the faintest crease forming between her brows. Emma felt it, the weight of her stare, the unspoken awareness sparking between them. Her heart pounded so loud she thought Regina could hear it.

Finally, Regina leaned back in her chair, graceful as ever, though her eyes softened. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he sees something you’re not ready to see yourself.”

Emma’s breath caught, but before she could respond, the sound of sneakers squeaking in the hallway signaled Henry’s return. She dropped her gaze to the cup in her hands, suddenly fascinated by the bubbles rising to the surface.

By the time Henry came back into the room, Emma was smiling again, her voice light, as though nothing had been hanging in the air at all.

🦢♛

Back at Emma’s apartment, Henry practically ran through the door. The faint jingling of a bell gave him away before he even reached the bathroom.

“Snowflake!” he called out, opening the door to find the tiny kitten curled up in the sink like she owned the place. She let out a squeaky meow as Henry scooped her up, laughing as she batted at his hoodie strings.

Regina smiled at the scene before setting her purse on the counter. “Why am I not surprised she chose the sink?” she murmured, amused.

Henry carried Snowflake to the couch, cuddling her while she purred against his chest. Regina turned her attention to the kitchen, pulling out what she’d bought that morning. She began chopping tomatoes and laying out bread, planning something simple but filling—sandwiches, salad, maybe some fruit for dessert.

Henry glanced at her from the couch, his math notebook resting on his knees. He chewed his lip, clearly debating with himself. Finally, he blurted out, “Regina?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” she said without looking up, still slicing.

He hesitated, stroking Snowflake’s fur with one hand. “Um… could you maybe help me with my homework?” His voice was small, almost embarrassed.

Regina immediately set down the knife and wiped her hands on a towel. She walked over to the couch and sat beside him. “Of course I can. Why didn’t you ask sooner?”

“I didn’t want to bother you… you were making dinner,” Henry admitted shyly.

“You could never bother me,” Regina assured him, her tone warm but firm. She took the notebook from his hands and skimmed the math problems. “Fractions, hm? Well, you’re lucky. I happen to be very good at these.”

Henry grinned, relief flooding his features as he leaned closer. Snowflake, apparently not wanting to be left out, hopped onto the notebook and sprawled across the page.

Regina laughed softly. “Well, it seems someone else wants to learn fractions too.” She gently moved the kitten aside and began walking Henry through the problem step by step.

For the first time since Emma had been admitted to the hospital, Henry’s shoulders relaxed. He listened carefully, pencil moving across the page as Regina guided him.

By the time the homework was wrapped up, it was time for dinner. Regina set plates on the table, arranging them neatly with the little extra care she always put into presentation. Henry carried Snowflake around in one arm, reluctantly setting her down only when Regina gave him the look.

“Sit, young man,” she said with mock sternness. “Before the food gets cold.”

Henry plopped into his chair, still smiling. His plate held a sandwich piled with fresh turkey and tomatoes, some salad, and a handful of fruit slices. He blinked at it in surprise.

“This looks… really good,” he admitted, like he wasn’t used to having something so balanced for dinner.

Regina arched a brow, but her heart ached at the thought. “It’s just a sandwich, Henry.”

“Yeah, but it looks like the ones in magazines,” he said before taking a huge bite. His eyes lit up. “It even tastes better.”

Regina chuckled softly, eating her own dinner while Henry talked about school, his game on the Switch, and how excited he was to tell his little sister about Snowflake one day. She listened intently, asking questions and laughing at his stories. The rhythm of the meal was so natural that, for a while, it felt like this was their normal life.

After dinner, Henry insisted on helping her clear the table. Together they washed the dishes—Henry drying while Regina washed—and Snowflake chased after the bubbles that clung to the sponge.

Later, when bedtime rolled around, Henry dragged his feet a little, not wanting the day to end. “Can you… read with me before I sleep?” he asked, holding up a worn fantasy novel.

Regina softened instantly. “Of course.”

He climbed into bed while she settled on the edge, opening the book where he’d left off. Her voice, calm and steady, filled the small room as she read aloud. Before long, Henry’s eyelids began to droop, the book slipping from his hands. Regina tucked him in, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, then kissed the top of his head as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered.

As she stood to leave, Snowflake curled up at the foot of Henry’s bed, and the boy sighed contentedly in his sleep. Regina turned off the light, pausing in the doorway for a long moment, her heart unexpectedly full. For tonight at least, she wasn’t just filling in—she was part of something, part of them.

Chapter Text

Emma was finally discharged the following Friday. Originally, the doctors had wanted to keep her until Sunday, but her condition had improved enough for them to let her go—on one condition: she wasn’t to be left on her own.

At first, Emma resisted. She hated the idea of being fussed over, of needing help. But Regina had been firm and surprisingly persuasive, reminding her that she needed rest for the baby and for Henry’s sake too. In the end, Emma relented, though not without grumbling.

The compromise they reached was simple: Emma and Henry would stay at Regina’s mansion for a while. Henry’s teacher promised to send assignments by email, and if he struggled, Storybrooke’s fifth-grade teacher had already offered to stop by after school to help him catch up.

Henry, of course, was thrilled. The idea of spending more time with Robin, Zelena, and Snowflake made his eyes light up, and Emma couldn’t deny the excitement in his voice helped ease her own anxiety. Still, as Regina guided her carefully out of the hospital and toward her car, Emma’s stomach fluttered—not from morning sickness this time, but from nerves.

She wasn’t used to leaning on anyone. Not like this.

Inside the car, Regina buckled her own seatbelt before glancing at Emma. “You’ll see,” she said softly, almost as if reading her mind. “It will be good for you both.”

Emma gave her a small smile, still uncertain but touched by the quiet reassurance.

🦢♛

The drive back to Storybrooke was mostly quiet, broken only by Henry’s repeated question every fifteen minutes: “Are we there yet?” Each time, Emma smiled faintly and Regina chuckled softly, answering with a patient, “Almost, sweetheart.”

When the mansion finally came into view, Henry practically bounced out of the car before the engine was fully off. Without the snow that had blanketed the grounds at Christmas, the place looked different—less like a winter palace and more like something out of a fairy tale. Patches of green were showing, and in some corners, stubborn early flowers had begun to bloom, a promise that spring wasn’t too far away.

Henry eagerly carried Snowflake’s carrier while Regina unlocked the front door. The moment the kitten was let out in the living room, she darted across the floor, tail high, clearly delighted to be back in the wide, open space after weeks in Emma’s cramped apartment. Henry followed her, laughing, while Regina turned her attention to Emma, gently taking the bags from her hands.

“Come,” Regina said as they stepped inside. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying. The beds aren’t made, since I wasn’t expecting guests, but we can take care of that together. You can choose whichever guest room you like—there are several, and each one has its own bathroom.”

Henry’s eyes widened as they walked deeper into the house. “This place really is a castle,” he said, spinning slowly to take in the grand staircase and the high ceilings. “When we came for Christmas, I already noticed your living room is bigger than our whole apartment. Are you sure you don’t have secret rooms hidden somewhere?”

Regina arched a brow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Henry gasped dramatically. “So you do have secret rooms!” He darted down the hallway, already beginning a mock investigation, while Snowflake dashed after him like his little assistant.

Emma shook her head, amused, but her smile softened when she turned to Regina. “You know, you might never get rid of him now.”

Regina’s smirk curved into something warmer. “I’m not sure I’d want to.”

Regina led them upstairs, her heels clicking softly against the polished wood. Henry skipped ahead, peeking into each door she opened as if he were exploring a hotel made just for him.

“This one faces the garden,” Regina explained, opening a spacious guest room. The soft cream walls caught the light from the tall windows, and the adjoining bathroom gleamed as if no one had ever used it. “It has the best morning light, perfect for waking up with energy.”

Henry immediately dropped Snowflake’s carrier inside. “I like this one! Can I have this room?”

Regina smiled indulgently. “Of course, sweetheart. It’s yours.”

They continued down the hall, Regina opening another door. This room was quieter, done in deep blues and silvers, with a window that looked toward the forest. “And this one—cozier, more private. It’s a favorite of mine.”

Emma lingered in the doorway, her hand brushing the frame. “This feels right,” she murmured, stepping inside.

Regina tilted her head, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, but she only said, “Then this will be your room.” She gestured toward the door across the hall. “And you’ll be near me if you need anything. My room’s just there.”

Emma glanced at the short distance between their doors and nodded, though her stomach fluttered for reasons that had nothing to do with morning sickness.

Together, they made the beds. Regina helped Henry smooth down his sheets while Snowflake pounced on the moving blankets. Emma struggled with the duvet in her room until Regina wordlessly stepped in, their hands brushing as they tugged the fabric into place.

“Thank you,” Emma said quietly when the bed was finished.

Regina met her eyes for a moment longer than necessary before stepping back. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re here to rest, Emma. Let me take care of things.”

From down the hall, Henry’s voice rang out. “This is the best house ever!” He was already arranging his Switch and books on the bedside table as if he’d always lived there.

Emma chuckled, leaning against the bedpost. “Looks like he’s already moved in.”

Regina’s lips curved softly. “Good. Then perhaps you’ll both feel at home here.”

By the time they had unpacked the essentials, the sky had already shifted into evening. Regina suggested they keep things simple. “Why don’t we have dinner together and then watch a movie in the living room? It’s Friday night, after all.”

Henry’s face lit up immediately. “Movie night in a castle? Best Friday ever!”

Emma chuckled, still a little tired but grateful for Henry’s joy. “That sounds good to me. As long as I don’t have to cook.”

“You won’t lift a finger,” Regina promised with a teasing look. “You’re here to recover, not to work.”

Dinner was warm and comforting—roast chicken, vegetables, and fresh bread. Henry ate enthusiastically, clearly impressed, while Emma picked at her plate, sipping ginger ale but still enjoying the meal. The dining room, with its tall candles and polished wood, felt far grander than the cozy nights they were used to in Boston, but the company made it feel intimate.

Halfway through the meal, Henry tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Regina? Why do you have such a big house if it’s just you?”

Emma’s fork paused halfway to her mouth, her eyes darting to Regina, but Regina didn’t seem offended. She set her wine glass down carefully, considering her words before answering.

“I always dreamed of filling this house,” she said softly. “With laughter, with family. But…” She gave a small shrug. “I never found the right person to build that with. And, well, I can’t have children of my own.”

Henry frowned. “You can’t?”

Regina shook her head gently. “No. And I tried adoption once, but the agency never called me back. They said I wasn’t… the right fit.” Her voice wavered on the last part, but she steadied herself with a sip of wine.

The table grew quiet for a moment, the weight of her confession hanging in the air. Then Henry, with the simple honesty only a child could have, reached across the table and touched her hand. “That’s not fair. You’d be the best mom.”

Regina’s lips curved into a small, sad smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. That means more than you know.”

Emma’s chest tightened, watching them. The vulnerability in Regina’s voice was something she hadn’t expected, and it tugged at her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.

“Maybe,” Henry said with a grin, “you don’t need an agency. You already have me and Mom.”

Emma laughed softly, embarrassed but touched. “Henry—”

But Regina’s gaze lingered on Emma across the table, something warm and unreadable shining in her dark eyes. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Maybe I already do.”

🦢♛

The next morning, Emma woke to the warm, sweet smell of pancakes drifting up the stairs. For once, she didn’t rush out of bed. The mattress was soft, the blankets luxurious—it was easily the most comfortable night’s sleep she’d ever had. She allowed herself a few extra minutes of quiet before finally heading downstairs.

In the kitchen, Henry was already perched on a stool, chatting with Regina, who was at the stove.

“Hey, Mom!” Henry said, jumping down to hug her. “Regina’s making pancakes!”

Emma smiled, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, I figured. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah! I have a big bed all to myself!” Henry beamed before hurrying back to his seat.

Emma moved closer to Regina. “Morning. Need a hand?”

“Good morning, dear,” Regina said with a warm smile. “No, Henry’s already set the table. Just sit down—the pancakes will be ready in a minute. Do you want something else besides pancakes?”

“No, pancakes sound perfect. Smells amazing.”

“Thank you. For drinks, I have orange juice, apple juice, coffee, or tea. Whatever you prefer in the morning.”

Emma chuckled. “Apple juice. I’m trying to cut back on coffee.”

“Of course. Help yourself,” Regina said with a nod. She glanced around. “Where did Henry disappear to?”

Emma was about to shrug when Henry reappeared, grinning, with Snowflake draped around his neck like a scarf.

“Look! Snowflake’s a kitty-scarf!”

Emma rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide her smile. “Henry, be gentle with her. She’s not an accessory.”

Henry laughed, setting the kitten down. Snowflake trotted over to Emma and leapt onto her lap, purring as if to prove she hadn’t minded. Regina let out a soft laugh at the sight before sliding plates of golden pancakes onto the counter.

Henry immediately dug in, shoving a forkful into his mouth.

“Slow down, kid,” Emma said, amused but firm. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Henry slowed his pace, though not without a grin.

“What would you like to drink, Henry?” Regina asked. “Apple juice or orange juice? I made both fresh.”

“Apple juice, please!”

Regina poured it into his glass and set it beside him.

“Thanks, Regina,” Henry said before taking a big sip.

🦢♛

They were halfway through breakfast, the table full of pancakes, juice, and laughter, when a sharp knock echoed from the front door. Regina frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

“I’ll get it,” she said, setting her napkin down and rising gracefully.

When she opened the door, her expression darkened. Standing there, impeccably dressed and smug as ever, was her mother.

“Hello, Mother,” Regina said, her tone clipped. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”

Cora smiled as if she owned the place. “I stopped by a few times this week but you were never home. When I saw your car in the driveway, I thought I’d finally catch you.”

“I was busy,” Regina replied coolly. She was about to close the door when Cora swept inside without waiting for an invitation.

Through the archway to the kitchen, Cora’s sharp eyes landed on Emma and Henry, who froze mid-bite.

“Them again?” Cora sneered. “Really, Regina? You shouldn’t be surrounding yourself with that kind of people.”

Regina’s jaw tightened. “That kind of person?” she repeated, dangerously calm.

“You know what I mean,” Cora said with a dismissive wave. “They’re just here because of your money.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably but didn’t rise to the bait. Henry ducked his head, suddenly intent on his pancakes.

Regina, however, squared her shoulders, fury simmering beneath her composure. “If I recall correctly, Mother, you were once poorer than they ever were—before you married Father. And unlike Emma, you did marry for money. Emma, on the other hand, has never asked anyone for a cent. She raised her son alone, refused every handout, and sacrificed everything to give him a better life than she had. She is stronger and braver than you could ever hope to be. So don’t you dare insult her in my home.”

Cora’s eyes narrowed, her face hardening. “How dare you speak to me like that? I am your mother!”

“Maybe,” Regina shot back, her voice steel. “But I am an adult. I make my own choices. And right now, I choose to kick you out.” She pulled the door open and gestured firmly toward it.

For a moment, Cora seemed about to argue, but one look at her daughter’s blazing eyes silenced her. With a huff, she swept out, her heels clicking sharply against the stone steps. Regina closed the door behind her with finality, exhaling slowly before turning back to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said as she rejoined Emma and Henry. She tried to keep her tone even, though her hands were still trembling slightly.

Henry glanced up, wide-eyed. “She’s kinda scary.”

Emma gave a half-smile. “Yeah, well, I already figured out the kind of woman your mother is back at Christmas.”

Regina sighed. “Awful barely covers it.”

Emma leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “I think I already said this, but… your mom really is the worst.”

Despite herself, Regina let out a small laugh. “Yes, she is. But we’re not going to let her ruin the mood. Now—” she picked up the syrup bottle and slid it across the table toward Henry—“let’s get back to breakfast.”

Henry grinned, already reaching for another pancake, and just like that, the tension began to melt away.

🦢♛

After breakfast, Zelena and her daughter Robin stopped by. Henry lit up the moment he saw his friend, practically bouncing on his feet. At school, he sometimes worried what the other boys would say if they knew his best friend was a girl—but here, in Regina’s mansion, none of that mattered. Robin wasn’t just his best friend; she was also adventurous and daring, the kind of girl who climbed trees and wasn’t afraid of mud.

Regina allowed Henry to plug his Switch into the enormous television in the living room. The kids dropped onto the carpet in front of the screen, controllers in hand, and immediately launched into Mario Kart. Their laughter and playful shouts soon filled the room, followed by the inevitable bickering of Mario Party, then the focused quiet of Minecraft as they argued about how best to build their castle.

Meanwhile, the adults settled on the couch behind them. Zelena teased Regina about her “castle-sized” living room, while Regina rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. Emma sat quietly, her gaze half on the kids, half lost in thought, until a familiar weight landed on her lap.

Snowflake, as usual, had claimed her favorite spot. The kitten nestled against Emma’s stomach, purring softly. She tilted her head up, fixing Emma with those big blue eyes as if she could sense the life growing inside.

Emma smiled faintly, stroking the kitten’s fur. “She really likes me,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Regina glanced at her, catching the softness in her expression. “She has good taste,” she said lightly, though there was a warmth in her voice she couldn’t quite hide.

Emma looked up, meeting her eyes for just a second before glancing away quickly, her hand never leaving Snowflake’s back.

The kids burst into laughter at something on-screen, their joy pulling the tension from the room. For a brief moment, everything felt… normal. Safe. Almost like a family.

🦢♛

The afternoon passed in an easy rhythm. The kids had settled into their Minecraft world, and soon enough they were begging the adults to come take a look.

“Come on, you have to see it,” Robin insisted, tugging at her mother’s hand. “We built a castle—it even has a secret tunnel!”

Henry jumped in, eyes bright. “Yeah, and we made a giant throne room, too. It’s way cooler than the real one.” He cast a mischievous glance toward Regina.

“Is that so?” Regina arched a brow, playing along. “I highly doubt any blocky little throne could be more impressive than mine.”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Henry challenged, pointing at the TV with a grin.

Reluctantly but smiling, the adults gathered around. The kids gave them a tour of their virtual fortress, pointing out every hallway and tower like proud architects.

Zelena chuckled as Henry explained how they’d designed an underground escape route. “Look at you two, little masterminds. I wonder who you inherited that from,” she teased, casting a knowing look at Regina.

Emma smirked. “Definitely not me. I was never patient enough to build something like this.”

“Oh no,” Zelena said, her grin turning sly. “You seem very patient these days, dear. Almost… domestic.”

Emma flushed, shooting her a look. “I’m just… comfortable, that’s all.”

Zelena leaned back with mock innocence. “Of course. Comfortable enough to take over my sister’s kitchen, sleep under her roof, and let her cat adopt you as its own. Very casual.”

“Zelena,” Regina warned, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

Emma ducked her head, stroking Snowflake who had followed her back onto the couch, purring as though in agreement with Zelena. Henry and Robin were too absorbed in their game to notice the adults’ exchange.

For a while longer, the room was filled with the sound of children’s laughter, the clicking of controllers, and the occasional witty jab from Zelena. And though Emma would never admit it out loud, she felt something she hadn’t felt in years—like she belonged.

🦢♛

By the time the kids finally put down their controllers, the winter sun had already dipped below the horizon. Regina called everyone to the dining room, where she had set the table with a casual but delicious spread—roast chicken, roasted vegetables, fresh bread still warm from the oven.

“Wow,” Henry said as he sat down, eyes widening at the food. “This looks like a feast!”

Robin nodded eagerly. “Way better than the cafeteria food at school.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Regina teased, serving chicken onto their plates. “This is not an everyday occurrence.”

Emma caught her eye across the table and smirked. “Pretty sure Henry’s already spoiled for life now.”

They all ate together, the room filled with easy chatter. The kids talked about their castle, Zelena and Regina traded sisterly jabs, and Emma found herself just… listening. Absorbing. It was strange, how natural it all felt, as though this had always been their routine.

When dessert came—an apple crumble with vanilla ice cream—the kids were practically bouncing in their seats. Snowflake even padded into the dining room, tail high, as though she, too, was part of the celebration.

🦢♛

Afterward, they all settled into the living room again. This time, it was a movie—an animated one the kids picked. Henry sprawled on the rug with Robin, while Snowflake curled up between them. Regina sat on one end of the couch, and Emma found herself drawn to the other. Before long, though, she realized the distance wasn’t much at all.

At one point, Regina leaned closer to ask quietly, “Are you comfortable?”

Emma nodded, but her voice was soft. “Too comfortable, maybe.”

Regina tilted her head, studying her, but didn’t press. She just gave a small, reassuring smile and let the moment rest.

By the time the movie ended, Henry had dozed off against Robin, the kitten nestled in his arms. Emma’s heart tightened at the sight—it was exactly the kind of simple, safe childhood moment she had always wanted for him.

And yet, beneath the warmth, guilt pricked at her. This wasn’t her house. These weren’t her people. Was she really allowed to want this, to let herself fit into a family that wasn’t hers?

Chapter Text

By Monday morning, Regina had returned to her duties at the town hall. After a week away, she knew there would be piles of paperwork waiting for her.

That left Emma and Henry alone in the mansion. Henry started his schoolwork early, determined to finish everything by noon so he could spend the afternoon playing. Emma, watching him scribble away at the kitchen table, smiled at his determination but eventually made him take a break after a few hours.

She decided to prepare lunch—but it didn’t go as planned. The pasta boiled over, the sauce burned, and the kitchen smelled faintly of smoke. By the time Regina walked in around noon, carrying takeout bags from Granny’s, Emma looked both guilty and relieved.

“Smells like something interesting happened in here,” Regina teased, setting the food on the counter.

“Let’s just say your kitchen survived… barely,” Emma admitted with a grin.

They ate together, and Emma noticed how happy Regina seemed. There was a lightness in her smile that hadn’t been there before. Even Henry noticed it, though neither of them asked why. After lunch, he went back to his schoolwork, leaving the two women alone in the kitchen.

“You seem really happy for someone who’s been buried in paperwork all morning,” Emma said, sipping her ginger ale.

Regina smiled, her eyes glowing with something she didn’t quite put into words. “I finally got a call I’ve been waiting for. For a long time, actually.”

She didn’t say more, and Emma didn’t push. A few minutes later, Regina left for the town hall again, promising to be back before dinner.

When Emma started cleaning up, she noticed a neat stack of folders on the counter—Regina must have forgotten them. She didn’t mean to look, but the logo in the corner of the top page caught her eye: Storybrooke Adoption Agency.

Emma froze.

Regina had told her months ago that the agency never called her back. But these papers were dated today.

Curiosity and worry got the best of her. She flipped through them carefully. The first was an apology letter—the agency claimed Regina’s file had been misplaced. The others were about a six-year-old girl with ADHD and sensory processing disorder. Emma’s chest tightened as she read.

“No one wants her,” Emma thought bitterly, “so they’re sending her to the one they think will take anyone. The ‘hopeless case’ gets the ‘hopeless mother.’”

She knew how the system worked—better than anyone. Files didn’t get “lost.” They were ignored until it suited someone’s image or until the child became too difficult to place.

But what hurt Emma the most wasn’t the system. It was that Regina hadn’t told her.

🦢♛

When Regina came home that evening, she immediately knew something was off. The house was too quiet.

Henry was in his room, his door cracked open, the faint sound of a video game drifting out. But in the living room, Emma sat on the couch, her arms folded, staring blankly at the floor.

“Hey,” Regina said softly as she set her purse down. “Are you okay?”
She knew Emma could have mood swings lately — pregnancy, exhaustion, everything combined — but this felt different.

Emma didn’t look up. “When do we have to leave?”

Regina frowned, taking a few cautious steps closer. “Leave? Why would you have to leave?”

Emma finally turned her gaze toward her, her eyes sharp and tired. “I saw the papers on the counter, Regina. From the adoption agency. You’re going to adopt a little girl, and you didn’t tell us. You didn’t tell me because you’re trying to figure out how to ask us to leave.”

The hurt in Emma’s voice stung more than the words themselves.

“Oh, Emma…” Regina sat beside her, keeping a small space between them. “That’s not what this is at all. I haven’t decided anything yet. I was going to talk to you about it, I swear.”

Emma let out a hollow laugh. “Right. Because you always forget to mention things like adoption paperwork.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to make excuses. The agency called you back, and now you don’t need Henry and me pretending to be your stand-in family anymore.”

“Stop,” Regina said gently, but with an edge of firmness. “That’s not fair.”

Emma crossed her arms tighter, her voice cracking. “It makes perfect sense, Regina. You’ve always wanted a family, and we were just… temporary. Fill-ins until something better came along.”

Regina’s expression softened — not offended, but pained. “Emma, look at me.”

Emma didn’t move.

“Please,” Regina said quietly.

When Emma finally lifted her gaze, Regina’s eyes were glistening. “You and Henry are not temporary. I didn’t ask the agency to call me back — they did, out of nowhere. And I haven’t said yes, because I didn’t want to make a decision without talking to you. You two are part of my life now, whether you believe it or not.”

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Regina reached out, hesitated, then gently laid her hand over Emma’s. “You matter to me, Emma. Both of you do. This isn’t about replacing anyone. It’s about… maybe giving another child the same kind of second chance I saw you give Henry.”

Emma’s throat tightened. “I just… I thought maybe you didn’t need us anymore.”

Regina’s voice softened even more. “Oh, Emma. You and Henry were the ones who reminded me what family feels like. Don’t ever think I could stop needing that.”

🦢♛

Emma stared at their joined hands for a long moment, silent. The warmth of Regina’s touch was grounding, but it also made the lump in her throat harder to swallow.

“I’m sorry,” Emma finally said, her voice soft and uneven. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s just… I’ve been waiting for the moment when this would all fall apart.”

Regina frowned slightly. “Fall apart? Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what always happens,” Emma murmured. “People help me for a while, and then they realize I’m not worth the effort. And you… you have this beautiful house, this perfect life, and I’m just… me. Some screw-up who can’t even make lunch without burning it.”

Regina’s eyes softened with sadness. “Emma, you are not a screw-up.”

Emma let out a short, bitter laugh. “Come on, Regina. Look at me. You’re the mayor — people respect you, you’re elegant, organized, smart… and I’m the girl who showed up at your door pregnant and broke. People already whisper about why we’re here. They think I’m using you. That I’m some charity case you took pity on.”

Regina drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “Is that truly what you believe? That I keep you here out of pity?”

Emma met her gaze. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet between them was heavy — not cold, just full of everything they hadn’t said since New Year’s Eve.

Regina turned slightly, her voice low but firm. “Emma, if this were pity, I would have found another way to help you. But I didn’t want to send you away. I wanted you here.”

Emma’s breath caught. “Why?”

Regina hesitated — just for a second — before she answered, barely above a whisper. “Because somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting the house to feel so empty. And when you and Henry came, it didn’t anymore.”

Emma looked at her, her eyes searching Regina’s face. “Regina…”

The other woman exhaled slowly. “That night… on New Year’s Eve,” she said quietly. “I’ve tried not to bring it up because I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “Me neither.”

Regina’s voice trembled slightly, even as she tried to keep it steady. “I shouldn’t have kissed you that night. I told myself it was the champagne, the emotion of the evening… but the truth is, I wanted to. I still want to.”

Emma’s lips parted, her breath shaky. “I didn’t stop you,” she whispered.

“I know,” Regina said. “And that’s why I’ve been so careful since. Because I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. I don’t want you to think this — us — would ever be about charity.”

Emma shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “It never felt like charity, Regina. It just… scared me. I’ve never had someone look at me the way you did that night. It made me think maybe I wasn’t broken after all.”

Regina reached up, gently brushing a tear that escaped down Emma’s cheek. “You were never broken, Emma. You just needed someone to remind you how whole you already are.”

For a long moment, they simply sat there — close enough to feel the other’s warmth, but neither daring to move closer.

Finally, Regina spoke again, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t expect an answer tonight. I just needed you to know the truth.”

Emma nodded slowly, her throat tight. “Thank you… for saying it.”

Regina gave her a faint, sad smile. “Now, how about we both stop overthinking and get some tea before Henry wonders why dinner hasn’t started?”

Emma let out a quiet laugh, wiping her cheek. “Yeah… tea sounds good.”

As they stood, their hands brushed — not by accident this time — and neither of them pulled away.

🦢♛

Dinner was peaceful — almost too peaceful. Henry chatted about the book he was reading and how Snowflake had tried to steal a piece of chicken off his plate, and both women smiled and nodded in all the right places. But beneath the laughter, something lingered — the heaviness of what had been said earlier, and what still needed to be said.

After Henry went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed, Regina cleared the table while Emma loaded the dishwasher. The comfortable silence between them felt different now — not tense, but charged with quiet understanding.

When the kitchen was finally clean, Emma lingered by the counter. “Hey, Regina?”

“Yes?”

Emma shifted, suddenly shy. “About… that call. The adoption agency.”

Regina glanced at her, folding the towel she had in her hands. “What about it?”

“Are you thinking about taking her in? The little girl?”

Regina sighed softly and leaned against the counter beside Emma. “I don’t know yet. The agency wants me to meet her first, see if it feels right. They mentioned she’s had a hard time finding a stable home.” She hesitated, then continued quietly, “If I do take her in, it would be as a foster placement at first. Something temporary — to make sure it’s a good fit before anything official.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Makes sense.” She tried to sound casual, but there was something tight in her voice.

Regina noticed. “Emma,” she said gently, “this doesn’t change anything about you and Henry being here. I was actually planning to speak with the agency about that — to explain that I’m not living alone right now.”

Emma frowned. “You’re going to tell them about us?”

“Yes.” Regina met her eyes. “I think it’s important they know there’s a family atmosphere here. That I’m not just some woman in a big, empty house.”

Emma gave a small smile, though she couldn’t quite hide the emotion behind it. “You really want this to work out, huh?”

Regina looked down for a moment, her voice soft but full of meaning. “I want a home that feels alive. And right now… it finally does.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to say to that — not without her voice betraying her. So instead, she reached for something safer. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think that little girl would be lucky to have you.”

Regina smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

They stood there for a long moment, the sound of the clock ticking softly in the background. Snowflake brushed against Regina’s legs, then hopped into Emma’s lap when she sat on one of the barstools, curling up instantly.

“You know,” Emma said, her tone light but her eyes serious, “I’m starting to think this cat likes me more than she likes you.”

Regina chuckled, walking closer. “That’s impossible. She just knows a good heart when she sees one.”

Emma tilted her head slightly, her gaze flicking to Regina’s lips for half a second before she caught herself. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

The words hung there between them — quiet, certain, dangerous.

Regina reached out without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from Emma’s face. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

Emma’s breath hitched, but she didn’t move away. “I’m not tired.”

Regina’s hand lingered for just a second too long. Her eyes softened. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Emma smiled faintly. “So I’ve been told.”

And then, before either of them could second-guess it — before fear or doubt could creep in — Regina leaned forward, and their lips met.

It wasn’t like New Year’s Eve, rushed and unexpected. This kiss was slow, deliberate — a confession rather than a mistake.

Emma hesitated for only a heartbeat, then kissed her back.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing a little faster. Regina’s hand was still cupping Emma’s cheek, and neither seemed eager to break the moment.

“Regina…” Emma whispered, her voice shaking.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not running away this time.”

A soft smile curved Regina’s lips. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you.”

Emma laughed quietly, resting her forehead against Regina’s. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel out of place. She felt home.

🦢♛

That night, the house was unusually quiet. Henry had gone to bed early after a long day of schoolwork and excitement. Snowflake had found a cozy spot near the fireplace, purring herself to sleep.

Emma had tried to sleep, too — she really had. But her thoughts were running in circles. Every time she closed her eyes, she replayed the moment in the kitchen: the touch of Regina’s hand, the softness of her lips, the way her chest had felt lighter for the first time in years.

She turned over for the tenth time, sighing softly. The bed was comfortable, but it suddenly felt too big, too empty.

A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts. The door creaked open, and Regina’s head appeared in the dim light of the hallway.

“Are you awake?”

Emma sat up slightly. “Yeah… couldn’t sleep.”

Regina smiled faintly, stepping inside in her silk robe. “I thought so. You were awfully quiet during our goodnight.”

Emma chuckled softly. “You can tell that just from how I say ‘goodnight’?”

“I know you better than you think,” Regina said as she came closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

Emma hesitated before asking, “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Regina shook her head gently. “No. My mind’s been… busy.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Mine too.”

For a moment, neither said anything. The silence between them was peaceful, but heavy with the unspoken.

Regina finally exhaled. “I didn’t want things to feel strange after earlier.”

“They don’t,” Emma said quickly. “At least, not in a bad way.” She paused, then added, softer, “I just keep thinking… what happens now?”

Regina sat down on the edge of the bed. “Nothing has to happen right away. We can take our time. Whatever this is—” she looked at Emma carefully, “—it’s real. And that’s enough for now.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Yeah… I think I can live with that.”

They smiled at each other, a quiet understanding passing between them.

When Regina stood, Emma reached out impulsively, her fingers brushing against Regina’s hand. “You don’t have to go,” she said softly.

Regina hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Emma shifted to one side of the bed, making space. “Yeah. Just stay… if you want.”

Regina’s eyes softened. “I do.”

She slipped under the blanket beside Emma. The room was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the curtains, bathing everything in silver-blue. For a while, they just lay there, shoulders barely touching.

Eventually, Emma turned toward her, her voice barely a breath. “I don’t remember the last time I felt this… safe.”

Regina smiled in the dark. “Then I’m glad.”

Emma hesitated, then whispered, “Goodnight, Regina.”

“Goodnight, dear,” Regina murmured back.

They drifted off slowly, breaths syncing, the distance between them shrinking until Emma’s head rested against Regina’s shoulder.

Hours later, soft footsteps creaked through the hallway. The door opened again, and a sleepy Henry appeared, clutching his blanket and his stuffed dinosaur.

He padded over without a word and climbed into bed between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Emma stirred and smiled sleepily. “Hey, kid…”

“Had a bad dream,” he mumbled, already half-asleep again.

Regina smiled and wrapped an arm around him, her other hand brushing against Emma’s. Emma intertwined their fingers under the blanket.

Snowflake, curious as ever, jumped onto the foot of the bed and curled up with a quiet purr.

And for the first time since any of them could remember, the house felt entirely at peace — a little family tangled together under one blanket, breathing in rhythm, dreaming the same quiet dream.

Chapter Text

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the large bedroom windows, painting soft golden patterns across the sheets. Emma stirred first, stretching lazily before realizing she wasn’t alone.

Her head was resting on Regina’s shoulder. Regina’s arm was wrapped protectively around her waist. And Henry — sandwiched between them — was sprawled out, half on the pillow, half on Regina’s arm, snoring lightly.

Emma blinked, trying not to move too quickly. The sight was… something. Warm. Perfect. Terrifying.

Regina opened her eyes a moment later, blinking at the morning light before realizing the same thing Emma had. Their eyes met over the top of Henry’s messy hair.

“Good morning,” Regina whispered with a soft smile.

“Morning,” Emma whispered back. “Sleep okay?”

“I did, actually.” She paused, glancing down at Henry. “Our little intruder made himself quite comfortable.”

Emma grinned. “He’s like a cat — sneaks in when you least expect it.”

As if on cue, Snowflake jumped up onto the bed and walked across the blankets before curling up against Emma’s feet.

“See? Now we’re complete,” Emma joked.

Regina laughed quietly, the sound low and warm. “Apparently so.”

Henry stirred then, letting out a sleepy groan. He blinked up at them, confused for half a second before smiling. “Oh good, you didn’t move.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Henry shrugged, his grin widening. “Kinda. You both looked really comfy last night, and you didn’t tell me to go back to my room, so I figured it was okay.”

Emma tried to look stern, but it was impossible with his sleepy smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.”

Henry sat up and looked at them, his expression thoughtful in the way only ten-year-olds can manage. “So, does this mean we’re, like… a family now?”

Regina froze for a moment. Emma’s breath caught.

Henry looked between them, completely serious. “Because it kinda feels like it. And I think it’d be nice.”

Emma felt her throat tighten. “Yeah,” she said softly, brushing his hair out of his face. “It kinda feels like that to me too.”

Regina smiled — a real, soft, unguarded smile. “Me too, Henry.”

Henry grinned and flopped back down dramatically. “Cool. So, does my new family make pancakes again today?”

Emma laughed, looking at Regina. “Your turn, Madame Mayor.”

Regina sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide her smile. “Fine. But this time, you’re both helping.”

🦢♛

A little while later, the kitchen was filled with the smell of pancakes again — and laughter.

 Emma was standing at the counter trying not to burn the batch she’d insisted on flipping herself. Henry was setting the table, humming happily. Regina was watching them both with a soft look in her eyes, coffee mug in hand.

For once, everything felt simple. Easy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what they all needed.

🦢♛

Once Henry had run off to feed Snowflake and set the table, Emma and Regina found themselves alone in the kitchen.

 The quiet between them was soft, almost fragile — the kind that holds the weight of things left unsaid.

Emma leaned back against the counter, holding her glass of apple juice. “So…” she started, her voice careful, “about last night.”

Regina set her coffee cup down gently, meeting Emma’s eyes. “Yes,” she said, equally cautious. “About last night.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The memory of the kiss — slow, certain, and so unlike the rushed confusion of New Year’s Eve — hung between them like a living thing.

Emma was the first to look away. “I’m not gonna lie, it scared me a little.”

Regina tilted her head. “Scared you?”

“Yeah,” Emma admitted, fingers tightening around her glass. “Not because I didn’t want it. I did. I do. But it feels… big. Real. And I’m not exactly good at real, you know?”

Regina smiled softly, stepping a little closer. “I’m aware. But I also know you, Miss Swan. You don’t run from something unless it matters.”

Emma looked up at her, half a smile tugging at her lips. “You make it sound like a compliment.”

“It is.” Regina’s tone was gentle now, almost teasing. “You wouldn’t be here — with me — if you didn’t want to be.”

Emma sighed. “You’re right. I do want to be here. I just—” She paused, searching for words. “I don’t want you to think I’m… something you need to fix. Or that I’m just here because you feel sorry for me and Henry.”

Regina’s face softened immediately. “Emma, no.” She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against Emma’s arm. “You and Henry are not charity. You’re—” she hesitated, her voice lowering — “you’re what I didn’t know I needed.”

Emma blinked, her chest tightening. “Regina…”

Regina took a small breath, steadying herself. “I’ve been thinking a lot since yesterday. About the adoption papers. About that little girl. And about you.”

Emma looked up, wary. “You’re still thinking about taking her in?”

“Yes,” Regina said, honestly. “But things are different now. I filled out those forms years ago — when I thought I’d always be alone. When I wanted to build a family because I had no one to share my life with.” She smiled faintly. “Now, I do.”

Emma’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean us?”

Regina nodded. “You and Henry. You’ve changed my home. My routine. My heart.” She exhaled shakily, letting the truth fall out in a whisper. “When I call the agency, I want to tell them that my living situation has changed. Because it has. You’re here. And I’d like you to stay.”

Emma froze — not from fear this time, but from the sudden, dizzying warmth that filled her chest. “You… you want us to stay? Like, permanently?”

Regina smiled, a little nervously. “As long as you’ll have me.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. She set her glass down and stepped forward, closing the last bit of space between them. Her hand brushed Regina’s cheek. “You have no idea how hard it is to say no to you when you say things like that.”

“Then don’t,” Regina murmured.

Emma’s lips curved into a smile — small, but real. “Okay.”

Regina’s eyes flickered down to her lips, then back up, and Emma didn’t hesitate this time. She leaned in, closing the distance with a kiss that was slow and sure, full of quiet understanding and all the words neither of them had been brave enough to say.

When they finally pulled apart, Regina whispered, “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

Emma smiled, her voice barely above a breath. “Yeah. We’ll stay.”

🦢♛

After breakfast, Henry went outside with Snowflake, who was chasing the early spring sunshine on the porch. Emma stayed in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes, still replaying that kiss in her head — the way it had felt so peaceful. Like finally coming home.

Regina stood by the counter, phone in hand, staring at the number written on the top of the adoption letter. She’d been mayor long enough to have made hundreds of important calls in her life — to state offices, to lawyers, to city officials — but somehow, this one made her heart race.

She finally pressed “call.”

“Good morning, this is Storybrooke Adoption Services, how may I help you?” a cheerful voice answered.

“Hello, this is Regina Mills,” she began, her voice perfectly composed, though her hands were not. “I received your message regarding the little girl, Olivia.”

“Yes, Ms. Mills, I remember your file. I’m glad you called back — I understand it’s been quite a while since we last spoke.”

“Indeed,” Regina said softly. “I wanted to update you on my situation before we move any further with the application.”

“Oh, of course. Any change in employment or residence?”

Regina hesitated, glancing toward the window. Through it, she could see Emma outside now, helping Henry feed Snowflake in the yard. Emma was laughing — unguarded, bright — and the sound filled the house like sunlight.

“My living situation has changed,” Regina said finally, her voice warm. “I’m no longer alone. I… I have a family now.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Oh, congratulations! That’s wonderful to hear. May I ask for a few details? We’ll need to update the file before we proceed.”

“Of course,” Regina replied. “It’s myself, my partner, and her son. She’s pregnant as well, so there will soon be a new baby in the household.”

The woman on the other end smiled through her words. “It sounds like a full, loving home. That’s exactly what Olivia needs.”

Regina’s expression softened. “That’s what I hope.”

“Well, in that case,” the woman continued, “I’ll arrange for a home visit. It’s mostly procedural — we just need to make sure the environment suits a child’s needs. Perhaps later this week?”

“That would be fine,” Regina said. “Thank you.”

After she hung up, she stayed still for a moment, her phone resting against her palm. She felt an odd mixture of excitement and fear — the kind she used to get before big speeches. But this wasn’t about politics or appearances. This was about love.

When she looked back toward the window, Emma was standing in the doorway now, wiping her hands on a towel. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Regina said, smiling softly. “Everything’s… perfect, actually.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”

Regina crossed the kitchen to her, her voice low but full of quiet certainty. “The agency’s sending someone for a visit later this week. They just want to see if this house could be a home for that little girl.”

Emma smiled — a real, gentle smile. “It already is a home, Regina.”

Regina’s eyes met hers, and for the first time in a very long time, she believed it.

🦢♛

That night, after dinner, both Regina and Emma went upstairs to tuck Henry into bed. He was already half-asleep by the time they finished reading his story, Snowflake curled up at his feet. Once he was settled, they quietly made their way back downstairs to the living room. The house was peaceful, dimly lit by the soft glow of the fireplace.

Emma sat down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “If I’m really going to stay here,” she began, glancing toward Regina, “we should go back to Boston. Henry and I need to grab our things — and my car. I’ll also have to figure out enrolling Henry in school here… though maybe I should just wait until next school year.”

Regina shook her head gently. “You don’t need to wait. There are still three months before summer break. It would be good for him to have structure — and friends. He’d be in the same class as Robin, so he wouldn’t feel out of place.” She smiled softly. “As for your things and your car, we can take a trip next week. Make a weekend of it, perhaps.”

Emma nodded, relaxing a little. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments — not awkward, just thoughtful. The kind of silence that hums with unspoken feelings.

Then Regina spoke again, her voice quieter this time. “So, I was thinking… if you and Henry are really going to stay here — and if everything goes well with the agency — we might have a six-year-old girl and a baby here soon.”

Emma turned to her, curious.

“With the home visit coming up,” Regina continued, “I thought we should start thinking about the bedroom arrangements. In my mind, Henry can keep his room. If Olivia comes to live here, she could have the room next to his. And we could turn your room into the nursery — it’s adjoining mine, so it would be perfect for the baby.”

Emma blinked, processing that. “Okay… but where exactly am I supposed to sleep then?”

Regina didn’t hesitate. She smiled, a soft but deliberate kind of smile. “With me, of course.”

For a second, Emma didn’t know what to say. Her heart gave a little jump — the kind that came with warmth and panic all at once.

“Are you serious?” she finally managed.

Regina’s smile didn’t falter. “Completely. I thought after last night, maybe we didn’t need to dance around it anymore.”

Emma looked down, then back up, meeting Regina’s gaze. There was something safe there — something that made her chest ache in a good way. “You really want this, don’t you?”

“I do,” Regina said softly. “You, Henry, the baby… maybe even Olivia. I want a home — a real one — and I want it with you.”

Emma exhaled, her lips curving into a small, tender smile. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Regina laughed under her breath. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Emma moved closer, close enough that their knees brushed. “It is.”

Regina’s expression softened again, and when their hands found each other, it felt natural — inevitable.

They stayed like that for a long moment before Emma leaned in, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Their lips met in a slow, quiet kiss — the kind that spoke more than words could.

When they finally pulled away, Emma whispered, “Guess I’ll have to get used to sharing a bed.”

Regina’s eyes sparkled. “I think you’ll manage just fine.”

🦢♛

The next morning, sunlight poured gently through the large windows, warming the soft sheets tangled around them. Regina stirred first, feeling the familiar weight of Emma’s arm draped across her waist. For a brief moment, she didn’t move — just listened to the quiet sound of Emma’s breathing beside her.

It felt… peaceful. Right.

Emma opened her eyes a few minutes later, blinking against the light. When she realized where she was — and who she was with — she smiled softly. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” Regina replied, just as softly. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, stretching slightly but not letting go of her. “I think I’m getting used to waking up like this.”

Regina chuckled under her breath. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Emma said quickly. Then, after a small pause, she added, “It’s actually kind of perfect.”

Regina’s heart fluttered — a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She brushed a strand of hair from Emma’s forehead before gently slipping out of bed. “Come on, we should get up before Henry comes looking for us.”

Emma groaned but followed, grabbing her robe from the chair.

Downstairs, Henry was already feeding Snowflake in the kitchen when they arrived. “Morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “I made coffee! Well, the machine did, but I pressed the button.”

Emma ruffled his hair. “Good job, kid. You’re a lifesaver.”

Regina smiled at the domestic scene unfolding before her. She couldn’t remember the last time her mornings felt this alive — the quiet laughter, the smell of coffee and toast, the way Emma looked so at ease moving around her kitchen.

After breakfast, they settled into what slowly began to feel like a routine. Henry worked on his school assignments at the dining table while Emma helped, her laptop open beside his notebooks. Regina, in her office upstairs, spent the morning answering calls and catching up on town hall documents.

Around noon, Emma made sandwiches — this time without burning anything — and brought lunch to Regina’s office.

“You know,” Regina said with a teasing smile, accepting the plate, “you’re getting much better at this.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Emma replied. “It’s just sandwiches. I’m not brave enough to touch the stove again.”

Regina laughed, and Emma couldn’t help but smile back. There was something easy about being near her now — the tension that used to hover between them had softened into something warm and familiar.

Later in the afternoon, Regina finished her work early and joined Emma and Henry outside. The sun was bright but not too warm, the air still carrying the coolness of early spring. Henry was showing Snowflake a butterfly that had landed near the flower beds, talking softly to the kitten like she could understand him.

Emma sat on the steps, sipping lemonade, and Regina joined her.

“He’s really happy here,” Emma said quietly.

Regina followed her gaze. “He is. And so am I.”

Emma turned to her, her expression softening. “Yeah… me too.”

For a moment, they didn’t say anything. The breeze lifted strands of Emma’s hair, and Regina reached out to tuck one behind her ear without even thinking. Emma smiled — small, genuine, and full of something new and steady.

That night, after Henry went to bed, they sat together on the couch watching an old movie. Regina leaned against Emma’s shoulder, and Emma wrapped an arm around her. Neither said anything, but the quiet was full — comfortable, certain.

It was their second night together like this, and for the first time, it didn’t feel temporary. It felt like the beginning of something real.

🦢♛

The next morning started quietly. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of Regina’s bedroom, and Emma stretched lazily before sitting up. For a moment, she looked around — the elegant room, the soft sheets, the faint smell of Regina’s perfume lingering in the air — and she smiled. It still felt strange to call this home, but it was starting to feel like one.

Henry had already gone downstairs to feed Snowflake, so Emma took advantage of the quiet to start moving her things. She folded clothes and carried them from the guest room she’d been using to Regina’s bedroom. It wasn’t a huge move — just a few bags and boxes — but it felt symbolic, like an invisible line had been crossed between guest and family.

When Regina appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, she leaned against the frame, watching Emma fold sweaters into a drawer.

 “Well,” she said with a soft smile, “it seems someone is settling in.”

Emma looked over her shoulder, a bit self-conscious. “I figured since we’re sharing the room now, it’s time I stop living out of a suitcase.”

Regina stepped in, her tone warm. “I’m glad. It feels right, having your things here.”

Down the hall, Henry’s voice echoed. “Regina! Mom! Where are you?”

“In here, sweetheart!” Regina called. Henry appeared a moment later, holding Snowflake in his arms like a fluffy trophy.

“What are you doing?” he asked, peering curiously at the boxes.

“Moving my stuff,” Emma said. “Since I’m not using the guest room anymore, Regina thought it could be a good idea to use it for something else.”

Regina crouched down beside him. “Actually, Henry, I was thinking of turning it into the nursery.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Really? For the baby?”

Regina nodded. “Yes. And I’d love your help decorating — yours and your mom’s. We’ll need to paint, choose furniture, and find decorations. Something cozy, warm… maybe a little bit of both your styles.”

Henry grinned. “Can I paint? Like, actually paint the walls?”

Regina laughed softly. “With supervision, yes. I think we can manage that.”

He seemed thrilled by the idea and ran off to grab a notebook to start drawing designs.

Emma turned to Regina, smiling. “You just made his week, you know that?”

“That was the goal,” Regina said with a little shrug, though there was a proud sparkle in her eyes.

Later that morning, they walked through the mansion together, discussing colors and layouts. Henry wanted his room to look “cooler,” so Regina promised they’d add a bookshelf and maybe a new desk where he could draw and do his homework.

As for the nursery, the three of them stood in the middle of the now-empty guest room, sunlight pooling across the floor. Emma rested her hands on her belly.

“I was thinking something simple,” she said. “Soft colors — nothing too bright. Maybe cream and light green? That way it feels calm.”

“I like that,” Regina agreed. “We can add touches of pink or yellow later, depending on what feels right.”

Henry nodded eagerly. “And maybe some stars on the ceiling! Like, glow-in-the-dark ones. So the baby won’t be scared at night.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Regina said warmly, brushing a hand through his hair.

The rest of the day passed in that gentle rhythm — sorting through ideas, making lists, and sharing laughter over snacks in the kitchen. Emma couldn’t remember the last time she felt this light, this safe. There were still things ahead — Regina’s upcoming meeting with the adoption agency, the baby on the way — but for now, everything felt like it was falling into place.

That evening, as Emma passed the nursery room again, she paused at the doorway. Regina was inside, measuring the walls and jotting down notes.

“You really love this, don’t you?” Emma said softly.

Regina looked up, smiling faintly. “I do. Planning spaces f

Chapter Text

Three days later, the front gates of the Mills mansion opened for a small silver car with the logo of the adoption agency printed discreetly on the door. Regina stood on the front porch, wringing her hands in a way she rarely allowed herself to. Beside her, Emma stood with one hand resting protectively on her belly, the other gently squeezing Regina’s arm. Henry hovered a few steps ahead, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

The car stopped. A woman from the agency stepped out first, and then opened the back door. A small girl climbed out — thin, dark curls tumbling around her pale face. She couldn’t have been more than six, clutching a stuffed fox so tight its fur was matted.

“Regina, Emma, Henry,” the social worker greeted them softly. “This is Olivia.”

Olivia didn’t say anything. Her eyes darted around — from the big white house to Henry, to the adults, then down at her shoes. She pressed herself closer to the social worker’s side, thumb brushing the edge of her fox’s ear.

“Hello, Olivia,” Regina said gently, her voice warm but careful, the way one might speak to a frightened bird. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Regina.”

Olivia said nothing, just gave a small nod.

Emma smiled, crouching slightly so she wasn’t towering over the little girl. “Hi, kiddo. I’m Emma. And this is Henry — he’s really excited to meet you.”

Henry waved. “Hey, Olivia. I, uh, made something for you.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a friendship bracelet woven from red and yellow string. “You don’t have to wear it or anything, but… I thought maybe you’d like it.”

Olivia stared at it for a long time, eyes flicking between Henry and the bracelet. Then, without a word, she reached out, took it, and slipped it around the wrist of her stuffed fox.

Regina’s heart melted a little.

The social worker smiled quietly. “Just remember, Olivia’s still adjusting. She has ADHD, so she thinks and learns a bit differently than other children. It’s part of what makes her special — she’s wonderfully curious, just in her own rhythm. And because of her sensory processing disorder, she can get overwhelmed by loud noises, bright lights, certain textures, or even strong smells. Keeping things calm and predictable helps her feel safe.”

Regina nodded, listening intently. “Of course. We’ll make sure she has all the time and space she needs.”

Emma added softly, “She’s safe here. We’ll take good care of her.”

When the social worker left a few minutes later, the front yard fell silent. Olivia stood still, her eyes fixed on the gravel driveway where the car had disappeared.

“Would you like to see your room?” Regina asked gently.

Olivia hesitated, but then nodded once.

Inside, the house was quieter than usual — lights dimmed, no music, just the soft creak of the floorboards as Regina led the way upstairs. She stopped in front of the room they had set aside and opened the door slowly.

“I didn’t decorate it yet,” Regina said. “Because I thought maybe you’d want to choose what it looks like. We can paint the walls any color you like, pick new curtains, even choose some toys or books.”

Olivia’s eyes flicked around the room — bare walls, a small bed with a soft gray blanket, a shelf waiting to be filled. She took a hesitant step inside, then another, letting her fingers brush the blanket’s edge.

“Soft,” she murmured. It was the first word she had said since arriving.

“Yes,” Regina said with a smile that was part relief, part awe. “I made sure of that.”

Henry peeked into the room. “There’s a cat too. Her name’s Snowflake. She’s really friendly.”

As if on cue, Snowflake padded into the doorway, tail flicking curiously. Olivia’s eyes widened. She crouched down, held out her hand, and whispered, “Hi, kitty.”

Snowflake meowed once, then pressed her head against the girl’s hand.

Regina caught Emma’s gaze from the doorway. Neither of them spoke — they didn’t need to. The way Olivia’s shoulders softened said everything.

After a few minutes, Regina asked softly, “Would you like a snack, Olivia? Or would you like to stay here a bit?”

Olivia hesitated before answering, “Can… can I stay here?”

“Of course,” Regina said. “I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.”

As they stepped into the hallway, Emma whispered, “You did great.”

Regina shook her head, her eyes glistening faintly. “No,” she murmured, glancing back at the small figure sitting cross-legged on the bed with Snowflake curled beside her. “She did.”

🦢♛

About an hour later, Regina returned quietly to Olivia’s room. The little girl was still sitting cross-legged on the bed, her fox toy tucked in her lap, and Snowflake curled up right beside her — purring softly, eyes half-closed.

Regina paused in the doorway, watching the pair. There was something almost magical in the way the kitten seemed to sense the child’s unease and answer it with calm. Olivia’s small hand rested lightly on Snowflake’s back, rising and falling with each slow breath the cat took.

“You two seem to be getting along,” Regina said softly, not wanting to startle her.

Olivia looked up, eyes curious but still cautious. “She came to me,” she said simply, stroking Snowflake’s fur.

“Yes,” Regina replied with a small smile, stepping inside. “She’s very good at knowing when someone needs a friend.”

There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Regina continued, “I was about to make lunch, but I wanted to ask you something first.”

Olivia tensed a little, and Regina quickly added, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I just want to know what kinds of food you don’t like — or what foods make you feel… uncomfortable. The textures, I mean.”

Olivia blinked, surprised that someone had asked instead of assuming. “I don’t like slimy things,” she said after a moment, her voice small but steady. “Or food that mixes together. And… crunchy is good. But not too loud.”

Regina nodded thoughtfully. “So no casseroles, no mushy sauces. Maybe some grilled chicken, rice, and vegetables — all separate?”

Olivia gave a tiny smile. “That’s okay.”

“Perfect,” Regina said warmly. “Thank you for telling me, Olivia. That helps a lot.” She turned to go, but then paused by the door. “Oh, and I wanted to ask you something else.”

Olivia looked up again, clutching her stuffed fox.

“We talked about decorating your room,” Regina said gently. “Would you like to go to the market with me to pick out what you want — colors, curtains, maybe a few toys? Or would you rather stay here and we can order things online together later?”

Olivia thought for a long moment. The idea of going to a store — bright lights, noises, crowds — made her chest tighten. She looked down at Snowflake, who purred softly, and then back up at Regina.

“Can we look on the computer?” she asked quietly.

“Of course,” Regina said with a kind smile. “We can do it together after lunch. No rush.”

Olivia nodded, relaxing again, her fingers still tracing circles in Snowflake’s fur.

As Regina turned to leave, she caught Emma standing in the hallway, watching silently with a soft expression.

“She let you in,” Emma whispered as Regina closed the door gently behind her.

Regina nodded, her eyes warm. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Just a little — but it’s a start.”

🦢♛

When Regina called everyone for lunch, she wasn’t sure Olivia would come right away. But a few minutes later, she heard the soft padding of small feet on the hallway floor.

Olivia stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her stuffed fox still tucked under her arm. She looked around cautiously — the bright morning light filtered through the curtains, the smell of grilled chicken and vegetables filling the room. It was warm and calm, and the hum of conversation was soft enough not to overwhelm her.

Henry was already sitting at the table, trying to teach Emma how to fold a napkin into a swan. When he saw Olivia, he smiled and waved.

 “Hey, Olivia! You can sit here, next to me,” he said cheerfully.

Olivia hesitated, then climbed into the chair he’d pulled out for her. Snowflake trotted in and settled at her feet, curling up like a fluffy little guardian.

Regina set a small plate in front of her — plain grilled chicken, rice, and sliced cucumbers, everything neat and separate. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Just how you like it.”

Olivia looked down at the plate, surprised. No one had ever asked her how she liked her food before. Usually, she had to pick around what she didn’t like.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and began eating quietly.

Henry, sensing that she didn’t want too much attention, started chatting about Minecraft, telling her how he and Robin had built a whole castle with lava traps and secret tunnels. After a while, Olivia glanced up and asked, “Can you show me sometime?”

Henry’s grin widened. “Yeah, sure! Maybe after lunch, if you want.”

Emma caught Regina’s eye and smiled softly — it was the first time they’d heard Olivia ask to do something.

As they ate, the room filled with an easy calm. Emma reached for Regina’s hand under the table and gave it a small squeeze. Regina turned to her, eyes glinting with quiet warmth. For the first time, it felt like the home was complete — or at least on its way to being.

When lunch was over, Henry jumped up, eager to show Olivia the game. She followed him to the living room, still clutching her fox but smiling a little. Snowflake trotted after them, tail high.

Emma leaned against the counter, watching them go. “You’re really good with her,” she said softly.

Regina exhaled, a little smile playing on her lips. “I’m trying,” she admitted. “It’s… different. But in a good way.”

Emma’s smile deepened. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Regina turned to her, eyes soft. “She’s lucky to have us.”

🦢♛

That afternoon, Henry set up the game console in the living room and showed Olivia how to play. At first, she just watched him, knees tucked under her chin, but after a few rounds she took the controller he offered and joined in.

“See, if you put the torches like this, monsters can’t spawn in your house,” Henry explained.

Olivia nodded, focused. “Can I build a little house for my fox too?”

Henry grinned. “Of course! You can have a whole village if you want.”

Regina and Emma sat together on the couch, quietly watching them. Regina had a cup of tea in her hand, and Emma leaned her head on her shoulder, content. The mansion, which once felt far too big for one person, now felt alive again — laughter, small footsteps, a cat’s purring.

Snowflake was lying across the rug, tail flicking lazily, watching the kids play.

Everything was peaceful — until Olivia reached for her glass of juice. She meant to put it back on the table without looking away from the screen, but her hand slipped. The glass tipped over and fell, shattering on the hardwood floor.

The sound was sharp and sudden.

Olivia froze. Her face went pale, her breathing quick and shallow. She looked down at the mess, then up at Regina and Emma, eyes wide and terrified.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’ll clean it up, I promise!” Her small hands trembled. “Please don’t send me back.”

Emma was already kneeling beside her before Regina could move. “Hey, hey—Olivia, look at me,” she said gently. Her voice was calm, low, the way you’d talk to a frightened animal. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re not in trouble.”

Tears welled up in Olivia’s eyes. “But I broke it… people get mad when I break things…”

Emma shook her head softly, brushing a strand of hair from the girl’s face. “Not here. Everyone breaks things sometimes. It’s just a glass, see? No big deal.”

Olivia’s lower lip quivered. “You’re not mad?”

“No, honey,” Emma said, pulling her into a gentle hug. “I promise. You’re safe here. We’re not sending you anywhere.”

Regina crouched down beside them, her expression full of quiet heartbreak. She reached out, resting a reassuring hand on Olivia’s back. “Emma’s right, darling. You don’t ever have to be afraid of that here. You belong here.”

Olivia looked between them — at Emma’s kind eyes, at Regina’s soft smile — and for the first time, something in her shoulders loosened. She nodded, just barely, and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Henry, who had been silent the whole time, quietly went to grab a towel. “It’s okay, Olivia,” he said as he knelt to help. “Mom drops stuff all the time.”

That made her laugh — a small, shaky laugh, but a real one.

Regina smiled at him over Olivia’s head, a silent thank-you.

Once the floor was clean, Olivia climbed back onto the couch, pressing herself against Emma’s side. Snowflake hopped up and curled in her lap, purring as if to seal the moment.

Emma stroked the kitten’s fur and looked down at Olivia, who was already starting to relax again. She saw so much of herself in that little girl — the fear, the uncertainty, the quiet wish to be wanted.

And she knew, deep down, that she and Regina were going to make this work. For all of them.

🦢♛

Later that evening, Regina invited Olivia to help prepare dinner. She made sure the kitchen lights were dimmed a little and the radio was turned off — too much noise could overwhelm the little girl. Olivia stood on a stool beside her, carefully washing vegetables in the sink while Regina chopped on the counter.

Everything was going well until Regina picked up a tomato.

Olivia froze. “Do I have to eat tomatoes?” she asked shyly, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

Regina looked over gently. “You don’t like tomatoes, sweetheart?”

The little girl shook her head quickly. “Even in a sauce for pasta?” Regina asked.

“It’s okay in pasta,” Olivia admitted after a moment. “But… this is real tomatoes.”

Regina smiled. “Well, I’m going to make a sauce with these. Homemade.”

Olivia tilted her head, surprised. “A sauce with real tomatoes? Doesn’t it come from a box?”

Regina chuckled softly. “Some people buy tomato sauce already made, yes. But I like to make my own. Either way, it’s all made from real tomatoes — we just skip the box part.”

That made Olivia giggle a little. “Okay. Maybe I’ll like your tomato sauce better.”

“I hope so,” Regina said with a wink.

By the time dinner was ready, the house smelled like warm garlic, herbs, and roasted tomatoes. Emma set the table while Henry filled glasses of water and placed forks and napkins just right. When they all sat down together, Olivia looked around the table — the cozy light, the chatter, the clinking of forks — and smiled shyly.

“This is good,” she said between bites of pasta. “The sauce tastes better than the one from the box.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Regina said, her voice soft and proud.

For a while, the conversation drifted easily — Henry talking about the video game world he and Olivia had built, Emma teasing Regina about her “mayor-level” organization skills in the kitchen. But then Olivia looked up at Emma’s belly curiously.

“Um… Henry said you have a baby in there,” she said quietly.

Emma smiled, setting down her fork. “That’s right. She’s still really small, though.”

“Can I… see her?” Olivia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Henry grinned. “There’s a picture on the fridge!” He jumped up and ran to fetch the ultrasound photo he had proudly stuck there with a magnet shaped like a heart.

He handed it to Olivia, who stared at it with wide, fascinated eyes. “That’s… a baby?”

Emma leaned a bit closer. “That’s her,” she said gently. “She’s about the size of a peach now. She’s my baby girl — and she’s part of this family too.”

Olivia traced the shape in the picture with her finger, careful not to smudge it. “She’s lucky,” she murmured. “She gets to start here… with you.”

Emma felt a lump rise in her throat, and she reached out, brushing Olivia’s hair back softly. “You’re lucky too, you know. You get to be her big sister.”

Olivia’s eyes widened in surprise — and then a small, shy smile curved her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” Emma said. “Every baby needs a big sister.”

Across the table, Regina met Emma’s eyes and smiled — that warm, unspoken smile that said everything words couldn’t. For the first time that night, Olivia looked completely at ease.

After dinner, they all ended up in the living room again — Henry building towers of blocks, Olivia helping him while Snowflake batted at a stray piece. Regina and Emma sat on the couch, their shoulders touching, watching the scene quietly unfold.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. But it was a beginning — their beginning.

🦢♛

They let the kids play a little longer, but Emma wanted Henry to start getting back into his routine — he would return to school in two days, and bedtime couldn’t keep slipping later and later.

“Alright, you two,” she said, clapping her hands lightly. “Time to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”

Henry didn’t argue. He yawned, stretched dramatically, and disappeared down the hall with his toothbrush in hand. Olivia followed, though not quite as eagerly. When both kids had said goodnight, Emma stopped by Henry’s room to tuck him in, then turned to head toward her own — only to see Olivia standing frozen in the doorway of her new room, staring wide-eyed inside.

Emma walked over quietly. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Is something wrong?”

Olivia’s little voice was barely a whisper. “This room is so big… what if I can’t sleep?”

Emma crouched down beside her, smiling gently. “Well, if that happens, you know where to find us. Regina and I are right across from Henry’s room. You’re not alone here, okay?”

Olivia looked up, uncertain. “Really? You won’t send me away?”

Emma’s heart squeezed. “Of course not,” she said firmly. “You’re safe here, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.”

She helped Olivia change into her pajamas, then pulled back the covers and tucked her in. The little girl still looked a little unsure, so Emma lay down beside her and wrapped an arm around her small shoulders. Olivia relaxed slightly against her.

“So,” Emma whispered after a moment, “how do you want to decorate your room?”

Olivia hesitated. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a room just for me before.”

Emma smiled softly. “You know… when I was about your age, I was in foster care too. I moved from house to house, and I never really had a room that was mine. But I used to imagine it — what it would look like when I finally did.”

The little girl’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “What did you imagine?”

Emma chuckled quietly. “Lots of posters, I think. Maybe a window seat. But you know what? I bet you’ve imagined something too.”

Olivia thought for a long moment before answering. “I think… I’d like light blue walls,” she said finally. “And a blanket with sea creatures on it. And a desk with lots of colored pencils so I can draw.”

Emma smiled. “See? I knew you had ideas.”

Olivia’s eyelids began to flutter, her small hand curling against Emma’s arm. “Do you think Regina will like it?” she mumbled sleepily.

“I think she’ll love it,” Emma whispered. “And she’ll help you make it perfect.”

By the time Emma finished brushing a strand of hair from Olivia’s forehead, the little girl was sound asleep.

Emma stayed there for a moment, watching her — the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing, the peaceful look that only came after trust had been earned. Then she slipped out of bed quietly and turned off the light.

🦢♛

Later that night, when the house had gone completely quiet, Emma slipped into the bedroom. Regina was already there, reading a book in bed with her glasses low on her nose. She looked up when Emma entered, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“How’s our little guest?” she asked, closing the book and setting it aside.

“Sleeping,” Emma said, pulling off her sweater and climbing into bed beside her. “She was scared at first, thought the room was too big. But she calmed down after a while.”

Regina turned slightly to face her, resting an elbow on the pillow. “Poor thing. It must be overwhelming for her — new home, new people, new everything.”

“Yeah,” Emma murmured, tucking the blanket around herself. “But she’s brave. You should’ve seen her tonight. Once she started talking about how she wanted her room, it was like this whole other side of her came out.”

Regina smiled softly. “She’s imaginative. That’s a good sign.”

They were quiet for a moment, just lying there, the soft light from the lamp painting a warm glow across the room. Then Emma spoke again.

“You’re really good with her, you know.”

Regina blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah. You just… know how to talk to her. You make her feel safe.”

Regina’s smile faltered slightly. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Well, it’s true,” Emma said, turning onto her side to face her fully. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom to her. You already are.”

Regina reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear. “And you’re an incredible one to Henry. And to this little one,” she said, resting her hand gently on Emma’s belly.

Emma’s breath hitched slightly — and then she froze. “Wait,” she whispered, her eyes widening.

“What is it?” Regina asked, concerned.

“The baby,” Emma breathed, her expression softening into awe. “She’s moving.”

Regina’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

Emma nodded, taking Regina’s hand and guiding it to her stomach. “Here. Feel.”

For a moment, there was nothing — and then, a faint flutter beneath Regina’s palm. Her eyes filled with wonder. “Oh…” she exhaled. “I felt that.”

Emma smiled, her eyes glistening a little. “It’s the first time she’s done that while someone else was touching.”

Regina’s fingers lingered on her belly, delicate and reverent. “She’s strong already,” she murmured.

“She is,” Emma said softly, her voice filled with quiet pride. “I was thinking…” She hesitated, then met Regina’s gaze. “I was thinking about naming her Hope.”

Regina’s expression melted completely. “Hope,” she repeated, tasting the word like it was something precious. “That’s… beautiful.”

Emma shrugged a little, her cheeks flushed. “It just feels right. After everything we’ve all been through — me, Henry, even Olivia… she kind of feels like hope, you know?”

Regina smiled tenderly. “It’s perfect.”

They stayed like that for a while — Regina’s hand resting protectively over Emma’s stomach, feeling the soft, occasional movement beneath her fingers. Eventually, Regina turned off the lamp, and in the darkness, Emma shifted closer.

Without a word, Regina wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in until Emma’s head rested against her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Emma,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Regina,” Emma murmured back, already half asleep.

The baby’s small movements quieted, and the house grew still — the kind of stillness that only came when everything finally felt safe.

By the time Regina drifted off, Emma’s hand had found hers under the blanket, their fingers intertwined — two hearts steady, one new life stiring softly between them.

Chapter Text

Spring sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Regina’s home, spilling warmth across the hardwood floors. The house, once quiet and pristine, now echoed with laughter, footsteps, and the occasional bark of Snowflake, who had decided the sunny patch near the nursery rug was her throne.

Emma leaned against the doorway of the nursery, watching as Henry helped Olivia arrange a line of stuffed animals in perfect order along the crib’s edge. The pale blue walls glowed softly, decorated with hand-painted stars and little sea creatures — a mix of both Henry’s imagination and Olivia’s wishes.

“I think the dolphin should go here,” Henry said seriously, pointing to the head of the crib.

 Olivia giggled. “No, the dolphin guards the door. The turtle sleeps by the baby.”

Emma smiled, one hand absently rubbing her rounded belly. The baby kicked — not hard, but enough to make her pause, and when she looked up, Regina was already there, leaning in the opposite doorway with a knowing smile.

“Busy decorators, I see,” Regina said, stepping closer. She brushed a hand along the doorframe, her expression soft. “I still can’t believe how quickly this house filled up.”

Emma chuckled. “Guess you didn’t expect to be running a full house again, huh?”

“I didn’t expect it,” Regina admitted, resting a hand lightly on Emma’s arm, “but I can’t imagine it any other way.”

Henry noticed them watching and grinned. “We’re almost done! The nursery’s perfect now.”

 “Perfect?” Regina teased. “You’ll have to let the baby decide that.”

 “She will,” Olivia said confidently, her small voice certain. “She’s gonna love it.”

Emma and Regina exchanged a look — that warm, quiet kind of look that said more than words. They’d found something neither of them had been looking for but both desperately needed: family.

Later that evening, when the kids were asleep — Henry sprawled across his bed, Olivia curled up with her new sea-creature blanket — Emma and Regina sat on the couch, the soft hum of the fireplace filling the silence. Emma rested her head on Regina’s shoulder, her hand still resting protectively over her belly.

“She’s almost here,” Emma whispered.

 Regina smiled, brushing her lips against Emma’s hair. “Hope,” she said softly. “That’s still what you want to call her?”

 Emma nodded. “Yeah. It just feels right. After everything… she’s exactly that.”

Regina’s hand found Emma’s, fingers intertwining gently. “Then Hope it is.”

Outside, the world was quiet. Storybrooke’s streets glowed faintly under the starlight, and the wind carried the distant sound of laughter from the docks. Inside, in the warmth of the home they’d built together, everything felt still, safe — full of promise.

Emma sighed contentedly. “You know… I used to hate Christmas. I used to hate a lot of things, actually.”

 Regina smiled faintly. “And now?”

 Emma looked around — at the photos on the mantel, at the sound of Henry’s soft snore from down the hall, at the faint flutter under her palm.

 “Now,” she said, voice full of quiet wonder, “I think I finally understand what it means to have a home.”

Regina kissed her temple, whispering, “You always did. You just needed to find the right people to share it with.”

Emma laughed softly, closing her eyes. “You mean you.”

 “I mean us,” Regina replied.

And for once, Emma didn’t feel the need to correct her.

She just smiled — her heart full, her family complete — as the last embers of the fire flickered, warming the walls of the house that had, against all odds, become a home.

🦢♛

The first cries echoed through the small hospital room just after dawn.

 Emma was exhausted — the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from hours of labor — but when the nurse gently placed the tiny, wriggling bundle in her arms, all she could do was laugh through her tears.

“She’s here,” Emma whispered, her voice shaking. “She’s really here.”

Regina was beside her instantly, brushing Emma’s hair back from her damp forehead, her own eyes glistening. “She’s perfect,” she murmured, barely louder than a breath. “Just perfect.”

The baby — their baby — had a soft wisp of golden hair and eyes that blinked open in the faint morning light. Emma traced a trembling finger along the little girl’s cheek. “Hi, Hope,” she whispered. “Welcome home.”

Henry and Olivia were waiting outside the room with matching anxious expressions. When Regina stepped into the hallway, Henry jumped to his feet. “Is she okay? Is Mom okay?!”

 Regina smiled. “Both are perfect. Come meet your sister.”

Henry rushed in first, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor, while Olivia followed a bit slower, clutching the small stuffed dolphin she’d insisted on bringing for the baby.

Emma looked up as they entered, her face tired but radiant. “Guys,” she said softly, “meet Hope.”

Henry climbed onto the edge of the bed, eyes wide. “She’s so small.”

 “She’s supposed to be,” Emma chuckled. “You were that small once too.”

 Olivia leaned forward, careful and quiet, placing the dolphin next to the baby. “So she won’t be scared,” she said solemnly.

Regina’s heart ached in the best way. The little family around her — mismatched, unexpected, perfectly imperfect — felt like something out of one of Emma’s books. Only this time, it was real.

🦢♛

Snow fell gently outside the window, coating Storybrooke in silver. The mansion was warm and glowing, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air. Laughter echoed through the house — Henry and Olivia were trying (and failing) to agree on where to hang the last ornament, while Snowflake batted at a ribbon under the tree.

Hope, now a few months old, sat in Regina’s lap, fascinated by the twinkling lights. Her small hands waved at the ornaments, her big blue eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s definitely yours,” Emma teased, standing beside them with a mug of cocoa. “Already obsessed with sparkly things.”

Regina smirked. “If she starts color-coding her toys, then we’ll know for sure.”

Emma laughed, leaning down to kiss her softly on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Madam Mayor.”

Regina turned her head, meeting Emma’s lips halfway. “Merry Christmas, Miss Swan.”

Henry suddenly called from the other side of the room. “Hey! No kissing under the mistletoe yet! We haven’t opened presents!”

 “Technically, that was under the mistletoe,” Olivia corrected him with a grin.

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you two are the mistletoe police now?”

 “Yep,” Henry said proudly. “House rules.”

Emma chuckled, taking Hope from Regina’s arms and bouncing her gently. “You hear that, little one? You’ve got a big brother and sister who already make the rules.”

Hope gurgled in response, as if in agreement.

Later, as wrapping paper covered the floor and the fireplace crackled low, Emma and Regina stood together by the tree. Henry and Olivia were playing with their gifts, and Snowflake had found a new favorite nap spot on the empty gift boxes.

Hope had fallen asleep against Emma’s chest, her tiny hand gripping the fabric of her mother’s sweater. Regina slipped an arm around Emma’s waist and whispered, “Do you realize this is the first Christmas you haven’t spent feeling alone?”

Emma smiled, tears catching in the corner of her eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered. “And it’s the first one that feels exactly like it’s supposed to.”

Regina kissed her gently. “To our first Christmas as a family.”

Emma leaned her head against hers, whispering back, “To every one after this.”

Outside, the snow kept falling — soft and steady — blanketing Storybrooke in peace. Inside the warm house, laughter, love, an

d hope filled every corner.

 A real family.

 Finally home.