A/N- No, I didn't forget about this story. No, I'm not sorry about the feels in this chapter. (Insert apology for taking forever to update here).
I did write another haiku for you all (possibly based in reality)-
'Dear roommate sorry,
I sexiled you last weekend,
But really, I'm not'
...
"You are never strong enough that you don't need help."
― César Chávez
...
The first time Regina calls for help is the following day. It's been two days since the incident and her palms aren't healing as well as she would like.
She is preparing dinner with as little movement as possible when Daniel comes home. He pauses in the doorway of the kitchen with a bouquet of flowers, still wearing the same shirt and slacks he had been the day he punched her. It's the first time she's seen him since he stormed out leaving her in a puddle of glass.
She doesn't speak first, or acknowledge his existence aside from briefly locking eyes with him before going back to chopping vegetables.
"Regina, I'm sorry about what happened."
Regina listens to his careful words, the way he says he's apologetic about 'what happened' not 'what he' did. Of course he's not taking owernership of this.
She doesn't reply and he lays the flowers down carefully.
"I want to make this right, Regina. Tell me what I need to do."
Her immediate response is a contrite short chuckle, "Go back in time." She looks up at him through her eyelashes, gauging his response as he clutches the edge of the counter opposite of her until his knuckles turn white.
"I'm trying here." He grits out.
Regina slams her knife down on the counter, palm flat across the handle safely so she doesn't nick herself with it, but winces slightly when she feels the large cut in her left palm reopen, "So am I."
His eyes fly between the knife and his wife's hard glare, "What? You're going to stab me?" He laughs.
She rolls her eyes, "You know I wouldn't."
"Exactly." His eyes gleam as he pulls himself up to his full height, "I know you wouldn't do it, you'll never do it." He begins to round the kitchen island until he's standing toe to toe with her.
Regina lets her hand fall to her side, but tries to stare him down.
"All you would do is run and tell your little sheriff friend." Regina feels the color drain from her face, and Daniel's smile just widens, "That's right, I know you told her."
"Daniel, I-"
"Save it." He dismisses, "If I were you, I would think twice about who I told what, Regina."
It's not exactly a threat, but it's close enough and Regina folds. She turns on her heel and storms from the kitchen with the regal ferocity of a tropical hurricane. She doesn't stop until she's made it six blocks and she realizes that she has nothing on her. She's still wearing her skirt suit and heels from work, and she has absolutely no idea where she's going.
She stops and checks the street sign, sighing in some odd relief as she recognizes it. It's not a place that Regina's ever been to, but she knows the name of this road, it's where Emma lives.
The apartment building is easily findable, and Regina is entering and making her way up two flights of stairs before she really knows what she's doing. She raises a hand to knock, then lets it fall to her side. She paces up and down the hallway, trying to talk herself into leaving, or knocking, or anything other than just walking up and down crazily.
Finally she does knock.
"Hang on!" Emma's voice yells from somewhere within the apartment.
Regina considers bolting. She doesn't.
The door is opened to reveal a smiling Emma. She's barefoot in a pair of small shorts and an oversized sweater, her hair thrown up in a messy bun.
"Regina, what's wrong?" Emma's eyes immediately cloud over in concern.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come." Regina mumbles, already backing down the hallway where she had come from, "I should just-"
She is stopped by a hand on her arm.
"Stay." Emma's question is soft and warm, the hand she's using to hold Regina doesn't feel hard and oppressive like Daniel's always does.
Regina still doesn't show any sign of relenting until Emma quirks an uneven smile at her, "Please? I'm making spaghetti."