Emma heard a click and a creak through the music on her headphones. It was a familiar sound, like that of a door swinging open, and her head snapped from her book to the open closet across from her bed, her brow furrowing at the sight of the empty cupboard as she pushed the headphones off her ears to investigate the noise. The room was quiet, but not silent; she could hear the shouts of the other children downstairs, the noise of their laughter and arguments drifting through the closed door of the bedroom she had escaped to after lunch. She hadn't been in this orphanage for long – the social worker that had picked her up from the police station had dropped her off here a week ago with her few belongings and a half-hearted promise of finding her some foster parents (Emma had little hope, for even at 10 she already understood that she was unwanted). Despite the chatter from below, the room was still and Emma passed off the noise that had grabbed her attention as her own imagination or the old house creaking in the wind. She returned her gaze to the story in front of her, the music from her stolen tape player a backing track to the tale of a princess being awoken from slumber by a charming prince that Emma couldn't help but find unrealistic and overly idealistic – she knew that magic and true love kisses didn't exist.

Before Emma could flick to her favourite story, the one about the pirate princess adventuring the sea, a golden light cascaded from the open closet, a noise that Emma could only akin to a roaring river flooding though the room. The light and noise disorientated her, and, though her eyes were squinting, she could make out the shape of two figures against the light. She did not scream at these strangers in her bedroom, she knew that nobody was listening out for her and that any distress would go unnoticed in this house full of pain and discomfort. Instead she hastily pushed herself up from the bed, scattering tapes to the floor as she pressed her back to the wall, her book thrust out in front of her in an attempt to appear armed against the intruders. The pair didn't move from the closet even as the light faded and the room felt quiet once more, Emma could see them properly – it was a man and a woman, their faces were tear stained and yet joyful grins were plastered across them. They stared at her with apparent delight for what felt like minutes until the man whispered in awe and stepped towards her.

"Emma."

She held the book tighter and tried to put her scariest face on as she demanded "How do you know my name?"

The man tried to take another step forwards, but the woman's grip on the sleeve of his jacket halted him. He didn't look back at his companion, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off Emma. They frightened her, no one had ever given her more than a passing glance and yet these people were staring like she was the most incredible thing they had ever seen.

"David," the dark-haired woman warned, "don't scare her." Well, Emma thought, great job so far. The small woman slipped past the large man, approaching Emma slowly with her arms raised in front of her, indicating her lack of threat. "Emma, we aren't here to hurt you."

"That's exactly what someone who would want to hurt me would say." She said in the loudest and bravest voice she could muster. The man chuckled at this which got an annoyed look from the woman. "What do you want?" Emma pressed, "who are you?"

The couple, for Emma could only assume from their behaviour that they were together, shared a look as the man joined the woman in her crouch a few feet away from her. Now they were closer Emma could look at their faces in more detail – they certainly looked kind, though Emma knew that this was nothing to trust, and there was something familiar about her chin and his nose that she couldn't quite place.

"I'm David," the man gestured to himself and then the woman, "and this is my wife, Snow."

"Snow?" Emma's brow furrowed, "that's a weird name."

The pair, David and Snow, shared another one of those looks that only they seemed to understand before Snow inched slightly closer. Emma couldn't help but flinch backwards, trying to move further into the wall in fear. Her eyes flitted between the kind faces of the couple and the closed door beyond, regretting not bolting downstairs when the strangers had first arrived. She had been stupid, but they had surprised her – it was not every day that people appeared in a closet out of nowhere.

"I suppose it is unusual," Snow said and Emma remarked that the confusion on her face seemed genuine enough.

"Who are you?" She demanded again with the book raised in threat, having received no answer last time the question was asked.

"We're your parents, Emma," Snow whispered, tears forming and falling down her rosy cheeks, "and we've been looking for you for such a long time."

"I don't have any parents."

This just seemed to make them sadder. Emma had spent much of her life hoping and insisting that someone would come for her, someone who would love her and care for her; she had wanted it, relied on this belief for so long, but now that someone was actually claiming her as their own it was terrifying and nothing like how she had imagined it being. Now she realised that she had no idea how she had really pictured it happening, but it certainly never included them magically appearing in a wardrobe. But these people, they seemed nice and she did not fight as the man who claimed to be her father slowly kneeled in front of her with tearful eyes.

"I'm sorry it took us so long to find you, we never wanted to send you away."

He reached forward, his hand moving towards her face. But before he could reach her, she flinched, still unsure and afraid of these people despite the love they appeared to have for her. David looked hurt at her fear, his fist clenching at the inability to touch her as he lowered it. Snow voice popped up behind David as she returned into Emma's view beside her husband.

"Is there anything we can do to prove who we are Emma?" Emma's eyes flicked between them and she shook her head almost indiscernibly, though, by David's sigh, they both caught it. "What about your blanket?" Snow's eyes lit up at the thought. "When we put you through the wardrobe you were wrapped in your blanket!"

The comment about being put through a wardrobe confused Emma - she knew from the newspaper clipping in her file that she had been found by the highway, not in some wardrobe – but she pushed this aside at the new hope building in her heart at Snow's knowledge of her blanket. She nodded carefully.

"How do you know about my blanket?" She asked warily.

Snow and David beamed at this confirmation that she understood what they were talking about, shifting closer to Emma who was becoming less fearful with every passing moment. David searched his memories for a description of the blanket they had been so excited to wrap their baby in.

"Is your blanket white? With purple ribbon and your name sewn on in?" David grasped at the only memory he had of Emma, fighting off guards as he tried to learn her every feature before shutting her in the wardrobe, alone, the blanket she was wrapped in her only possession from her parents.

Emma's eyes flicked to where she knew the blanket David was describing lay under her pillow, a corner of the wool peeking out from beneath the lumpy pillow. The man and woman followed her gaze, their faces supporting matching confusion at what they were looking at. She took a timid step forward and David shifted to allow her past. She pushed herself up onto the bed, dropping aside her book and lifting the pillow up to reveal that blanket that had been the one constant thing in her life. The wool was dirty, her time on the streets had not done it any favours, but it was her prized possession – it symbolised that there was someone out there who had cared, that had chosen her name and had wanted her to be warm. Emma had always dismissed it in some way, it made no sense; the same person who had wrapped her up lovingly had abandoned her at just a few hours old. But these people who claimed to be her parents could have an answer, something to do with the wardrobe they kept mentioning.

She grabbed the blanket from its place, turning to face the man and woman as she held it out to them. She wracked her mind for anything to stop the creeping belief that these people were her parents, that they had finally come to save her. She was scared to believe, scared to let it be true. Neither of the couple had moved towards her and Emma thought that they may be feeling the same fear as her.

"Emma?" Snow whispered, her body still with anticipation.

"I think I believe you." Emma murmured, meeting their gazes. Their eyes lit up, and David let out a chocked sob. Emma didn't think she had ever seen a man cry before, but David, her father, appeared unashamed of the tears rolling down his cheeks as he leant forward with his arms open.

"Can I have a hug?"

She was reluctant, but with a small smile of encouragement from Snow she nodded and allowed the man to wrap his arms around her. It was a strange feeling, that of being loved; she didn't recognise it, but the press of his hand against her head felt familiar and she couldn't help but relax into the comfort of his arms. She felt the brush of a kiss against her hair and then another pair of arms engulfed her as her mother joined their embrace. It was unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable, but Emma felt something in her heart shift just slightly into place as her family was united. She did not know what would happen now, but in her heart she knew that everything would be alright now that they had finally found her.