Chapter Eleven~

3rd Person POV~

Emma had known. She'd known it since the moment she'd sealed the letter, since the moment she tucked the envelope into an inside pocket of her red leather jacket, since the moment she set off towards Regina's house, and since the moment Regina had opened the door and her face changed once she saw how nervous Emma was.

Emma knew that this was not the day for a confession. She could feel it in her gut, read it in the stars, feel it in her bones…. But her heart told her that that was only apprehension. Her impatient heart told her that this was a great day for a confession.

And unfortunately, Emma was always one to put her heart before her head.

It was one of those fall days where the sky was crusted with thin gray clouds, and the yellow leaves of the trees seemed to burn in contrast.

The two women sat silently on a rock wall in a little park. It was the first time since they'd been talking here that there had been such an awful silence. It was because they both knew what was coming.

After a fourth attempt at conversation, Emma finally stood up, a bit angrily. This wasn't going how she had wanted it to. She reached into her jacket pocket, her gut wriggling with warnings about not to do this, but her heart throbbing in encouragement.

She stopped for a moment, studying the piece of paper in her hand. A light smile dusting her thin lips, she laughed lightly, handing the letter to her once-lover.

"Here," she said awkwardly. "I'm not great with spoken words," she was already fumbling, "so I thought I'd write you another letter, like I have been…. It's not exactly the same as the other ones… well…. Just read it." She finished her speech, kicking the dirt with her boot and exhaling a puff of air. Looking like a lost child, she attempted to say something else, but failing, walked off in the direction of her house, leaving Regina sitting on the wall with a letter in her hands that felt as heavy as a rock.

Dear Regina,

Well, here I am again, writing another letter. I've written you a lot lately, as you know, all in an attempt to help you remember. Doesn't seem to be working, does it? Anyways, this letter is a little different… I don't think it's going to help you remember much. In fact, it's more to help me.

In all of the dozens of letters I've written you, I've tried to include as much as I possibly could. I tried to describe everything I remember about you, and everything I know about myself. I detailed every moment we'd interacted and recreated every conversation.

But I was leaving out the most important part of our story.

There was a time when you were going to marry a man named Robin. I'd been gone for several months, and that was the first thing I'd found out upon my arrival back home. My world was shattered. I felt like I was breaking, like my life had lost its whole purpose, but I couldn't figure out why.

You were getting married in a week, and something about that made my insides scream.

I felt like I was losing you, like you were sand gently running out of the cracks between my fingers.

And after a while, I realized why I was feeling this way.

I was in love with you. I am in love with you.

Regina, I can't explain the way you make me feel.

I thought perhaps, for your sake, I could stop loving you after the accident. It would be easier on you, and it would be easier on me, if I didn't feel so strongly about you.

But I couldn't. Nothing I could ever do could make me stop loving you. It's embedded in my bones, written in my DNA, inscribed in the very scriptures that make me who I am.

I don't expect you to feel the same way, obviously. But Regina, you're my best friend. You were then, and you are now. And if you'd give me the chance, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Even if you never remember anything from our past, I'd like the chance to give you a future.

Meet me at our little wall in the park after sunset. I'll be waiting there for your answer.

Love,

Em.