"You really love her," the realization hits her.
"Is that jealousy?" Rumple bites back, and she scoffs a laugh.
"Of Belle?," she's almost incredulous. "I think not."
"No, no," he has that look, he gets it when he wants to hurt her.
"Of having someone."
It feels like an arrow, right in her chest, and his mocking smile stings like a never-healed wound.
Old words, from an old life – stinky clothes and peasants around her, aiming at a dummy with her features.
You can't hit the Queen in her heart. 'Cause she ain't got one!
Nobody could ever love her.