A/N: When I counted your votes on Friday afternoon, 216 people had taken the time to let me know who they wanted Regina to be divorced from. The fact that 216 people read my chapter blows my mind and the realisation that 216 people care about where this story goes is just incredible. That said, the winner received 40% of the votes which means I'll be disappointing 60% of my readership … perhaps this poll wasn't such a good idea. If, as you read, you learn that your preferred character is not Regina's ex, please don't give up on me. This character is going to be incredibly minor. Their role in Regina and Henry's life is in the past and while there will be mention of them in future chapters, I have no plans to ever write a scene with this person in it. Oh, and happy Sunday!

The house was unassuming, standard, non-descript. Its bright red brickwork was identical to the homes on either side of it. The afternoon sunlight glinted off black paint on the front door as she gazed up at the building, appraising it, judging it. She glanced at the clock in the car dashboard. Fifteen more minutes.

Regina had already been sat outside for half an hour. It hadn't been her plan to turn up quite so early but, unable to concentrate at her desk, she had climbed into her Mercedes and driven the short distance well before she needed to. And now she was waiting, nerves coiling in her stomach, trying to decide what to say. The problem was, she didn't know what the questions were going to be.

She'd never been to a therapist or psychologist before. Kat had suggested it once in the aftermath of the divorce. Regina had used some rather choice words which left her friend with no doubt that therapy was never going to happen. And yet here she was. Except, Regina reminded herself, she wasn't here because of her own problems. She was here for her son. She was meeting with Doctor Archie Hopper to talk about Henry, not herself.

But these professionals knew things, didn't they? They could read people, could understand words unspoken, could get inside their patients' heads and uncover their deepest, darkest fears.

Emma Swan would make a good therapist.

The thought sprang into Regina's mind without warning. While it was true that she had thought regularly of the young blonde since their first, second and then third meeting, she hadn't expected Emma to barge her way into her subconscious at that moment. She should be focusing on Henry, on her son, on his health.

But Emma's the reason you're here right now, her brain reminded her.

And it was true. Without Emma, without their conversation that Saturday night, Regina wouldn't be sitting outside the office of a child psychologist, about to talk to a professional for the first time about the eating disorder she now believed her son to be suffering with.

Her fingers moved without conscious thought. Unlocking her cell, scrolling through her contacts, finding the one she was searching for and hitting call. Only when the cool glass of her phone screen touched her cheek did she realise what she was doing. Startled, she tugged the device away from her face and hung up. Glowering at her cell as if it had tricked her, she tossed it onto the seat beside her and went back to staring up at the house from which Doctor Hopper ran his practice.

Did his neighbours know? Regina mused. Of course they did. To a passer by it may look like a normal family home but the neighbours must know that it had been converted into a practice for the venerable doctor and his small team of child psychologists. The locals would know. Anyone who saw Regina walk up those steps would know why she was there, would know that her child needed help, would think that –

Her cell's ringtone cut into her train of thought. She turned towards it, buzzing interminably against the chair. The screen displayed the caller's name. Shit. Should she answer? Or should she just let it ring out.

"Hello."

"Hello? I got a missed call from this number. Who is this?"

There was no point lying. "It's Regina. Regina Mills, from Mills Marketing. We met -"

"Yeah, I remember," Emma interrupted. "Regina, hi. Um, how are you?"

"I've been better," the brunette admitted.

"What's wrong? Is it Henry?"

The evident concern was touching but also cloying. She didn't want or need others asking after the health of her son.

"Henry's fine," Regina said.

"Ok … so why did you call? I mean, I'm glad that you did," the blonde stuttered, "but … yeah, why did you call?"

There was a pause as Regina tried to work out how to answer the question. She wasn't sure why she had called the blonde. It had been instinctive. Which was strange because she had never called the younger woman before in her life.

"I don't actually know," Regina said. "I just … did."

"Ok," Emma said slowly. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm outside the office of a child psychologist right now."

"Oh, ok. Um, have you had a meeting already? Is Henry inside talking to them without you?"

"No, my appointment is at four," Regina said, noting that she had five minutes before she would be late for that appointment. "And Henry isn't here. It's just me."

"I see," Emma replied, even though she really didn't understand what was going on.

"The doctor wants to meet with me before he meets Henry," Regina continued without prompting. "He thinks it will help him to build up a better picture of Henry's history and his current eating habits than if he asked Henry directly."

"That makes sense," Emma replied.

"I don't know what to tell him," Regina blurted out.

There was another pause. "Just tell him the truth."

Regina swallowed thickly. "I've never been to see a therapist or a psychologist before. I … I'm scared."

"They're just going to ask you some questions about Henry," Emma reassured her. "That's why you're doing this, remember?"

A wave of guilt crashed over Regina. The chef was right. This wasn't about her, it was about Henry. She needed to put her fears about self-preservation aside and be strong for her son. It didn't matter what had happened in the past to lead to this point. What mattered was giving Henry's psychologist all of the information he requested so he was in the most informed position to help her son.

"I have to go," Regina said. "I'm going to be late. Sorry I called you."

"You don't need to be sorry," Emma said. "If you need to talk to someone about this, you know you can call me. But maybe, wait for me to pick up before ending the call next time. Or are you one of those people who hates to use their own minutes?"

Regina couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I'm one of those people who makes rash decisions and then comes to their senses."

"The rash decision being to call me?"

The brunette nodded before remembering Emma couldn't see her. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Well, you can be rash all you like," Emma said. "I know what you're going through. Or at least I know what Henry's going through."

"I think that's why I called," Regina said. "I'm so far out of my comfort zone here and I don't have anyone I can talk to."

"You can talk to me," Emma said. "And Henry's psychologist. You'd better go, by the way. You're going to be late."

"Shit, you're right," Regina said. She missed the slight gasp from Emma at the swear word. There was something about the put-together, straight-backed, corporate powerhouse that was Regina Mills which just didn't quite suit cursing. "Um, thanks. I think you've helped."

"Let me know how it goes?" Emma offered.

"Erm, yes, ok," Regina agreed. It wasn't exactly like she could turn down such a request. And, she realised as she ended the call, she didn't want to. The fact that she, for the first time, had someone in her life who understood what was going on with Henry was a breath of fresh air. She didn't know Emma, not really, but she did know she could count on the blonde to be there for her. And Henry.

Reminded once more of why she was sat outside a psychologist's clinic, she opened the door and climbed out of the car. Her handbag slung over her shoulder, she marched through the intricate wrought iron gate and up the short flight of steps to the front porch. A small plaque on the wall instructed her to push number two on the intercom, which she did, and seconds later she was buzzed into the building.

"Ems, are you ready?"

Ruby's head appeared around the door frame to Emma's room where the blonde was sat on her bed, staring at her cell phone.

"What?" she asked distractedly, looking up from the blank screen.

"Work, Emma," Ruby frowned. "We've got the staff briefing before this evening's service starts. You coming?"

"Right, yeah," Emma said, climbing off her bed and reaching for the freshly laundered chef whites which were on her dresser. "Are you driving or are you coming with me." Already the blonde was changing into her bike leathers which had been slung over the back of a chair.

"Driving," Ruby replied. "I'm going to Belle's after work. Um, are you ok?" she asked as Emma looked around distractedly as if she was searching for something.

"Where's my cell?"

"In your hand," Ruby replied, pointing to the device which was gripped firmly in slender fingers.

Emma glanced down, saw her friend was right and pocketed the object. "Right, I'm ready."

"Are you ok?" Ruby asked again. "Who were you talking to just now?"

"Regina," Emma admitted.

"The hot brunette?"

"Do we know another Regina?" Emma asked, leading the way out of her bedroom and down the corridor. "Yeah, that Regina."

"What did she want? Ooh, was she calling to ask you out on a date?" Ruby exclaimed, suddenly excited at the prospect. She missed double dating with her best friend.

"No, she didn't. And I told you, she's not gay."

"We'll agree to disagree on that," Ruby said, gathering her handbag and keys from the side table in the hallway as the duo prepared to leave the apartment. "So if she wasn't calling to ask you out, why did she call?"

To be fair, Emma still wasn't clear how to answer that question. She had a feeling Regina wasn't quite sure what had led to the phone call either. "She wanted my advice about something in relation to her son," she offered eventually.

"What about her son?"

"I … I can't tell you," Emma said. "It's private."

Regina hadn't explicitly told Emma not to share what was going on with Henry but the blonde got the sense it wasn't something she would want broadcast. The fact that the older woman was someone who didn't talk much about her problems or share her concerns with others was apparent. Emma respected that; she hadn't had much privacy as a child and understood why others may value keeping their family issues within the family. She tried not to think about what it might mean that the beautiful woman had been so open and honest with Emma.

"Whatever," Ruby said. "But I know there's something going on between you two."

"Come on," Emma said, tugging her leather jacket on and ignoring her friend. "We're going to be late."

To say she felt out of place would be an understatement. Regina perched on the edge of the red armchair as she looked around, taking in the brightly decorated room. She supposed the majority of people who attended sessions in the office would be children but Regina hadn't expected the space to be quite so … playful.

There were boxes of toys stacked neatly around the room and a cluster of beanbags in a corner. Another corner hosted a costume and dress up area. Shelves along one wall were stuffed, higgledy-piggledy with countless books and Regina spotted several titles which Henry had in his bedroom at home. There were several paintings on the walls but rather than the pensive, thought-provoking pieces she imagined a therapist would hang up, these were bold and colourful and the type of artwork which kids were drawn to.

She shuffled a little further back in the chair as she continued her appraisal. Doctor Hopper's receptionist had shown her through and promised her the wait wouldn't be long. The man himself was on his way back from a supervised home visit with another patient and had got caught in traffic. Regina didn't mind waiting; it was offering her the chance to become more comfortable in the room.

She realised with a jolt that she didn't think Henry would have the same problem. He would love this room, with so many different activities and the fun seating spaces. Of course that was why the space was decorated as it was and it made Regina feel happy about her decision to choose Doctor Hopper. The online reviews were right; he knew how to connect with children on their level.

Just as she was feeling a little reassured about the whole process, the door opened and she jumped to her feet.

"Hi, you must be Ms Mills," the man said as he entered. "I'm Doctor Hopper but you can call me Archie if you prefer."

"Nice to meet you," Regina said, holding out her hand to shake the doctor's.

The man strode with confidence across the room and shook Regina's hand, smiling warmly at her. He had pale ginger hair, wore circular horn-rimmed glasses and carried a tattered old briefcase. He looked, Regina decided, like had stepped out of the 1970s.

"Take a seat," Archie said, rounding his desk and doing so himself. Regina sank back into the red armchair she had just vacated and crossed her legs, sitting bolt upright, expectant.

"So," Archie said, firing up a laptop he had pulled from his case. "Let's jump right in. We're here to talk about your son, Henry, correct?"

"Yes."

"And he is six years old and you believe he may have an eating disorder?"

They really were jumping right in, Regina mused. "Yes."

"Ok, so I'm going to use our meeting today to gather as much information about Henry and about your family life as I can and then when I meet him on Thursday, I'll be in the best position to speak with him and understand what's going on. Just to let you know as well, all of these appointment will be recorded using this Dictaphone," he pointed to the small device on his desk, "just so I can refer back to conversations at a later date if necessary."

"Ok," Regina said. She had already ticked the box consenting to the sessions being recorded on the new patient form the receptionist had asked her to fill out. At her verbal agreement, however, Archie pressed the record button and a little red light blinked to life.

"Any questions you have as we go through, please don't hesitate to ask them. I know this is a scary time for you and I want to reassure you that I am here for you just as much as I am here for Henry."

"Ok."

Archie paused in his task of opening up the new client file titled ' .ED' and looked at the boy's mother. She was nervous, as all parents were who entered his office, but there was something about the woman before his desk that day which made him think her coming to him had caused some real inner turmoil.

"Right, before we get started talking about Henry, can you ask me why you came here today?"

Regina blinked, surprised. "My son has an eating disorder," she said simply.

"And what made you come to the decision that this was a problem which required the assistance of a child psychologist?" Archie asked.

"Someone suggested Henry might need a professional's advice." Emma's words echoed in Regina's head once more; on a constant loop since their drink on Saturday night.

"Do you agree?"

"I think so," Regina nodded. "I guess I'd been hoping he would grow out of it or that it wasn't as bad as I thought and he was just going through a fussy stage."

"But now you don't think either of those scenarios will happen?"

"No," Regina said, eyes now fixed on the fingers fidgeting in her lap. "No, now I realise that my son is suffering from something and I'm not in a position to help."

Archie offered a sympathetic smile, missed by the brunette who was still staring at her twisting fingers. "Firstly, Ms Mills, you are most definitely in a position to help your son. The fact that you're here today and that you're going to come back on Thursday with Henry shows me that you are helping him. And secondly, while I may be the one to talk with Henry and try to understand the root cause of his eating disorder, as his mother, you are going to be the one helping him on a day to day basis. Never, ever think that you cannot help. The truth is, Henry can't do this without you."

A tear dripped down Regina's cheek, soaking instantly into her pale grey skirt, the stark truth of the words stabbing her in the heart. Then man was right. Henry was only six; he couldn't do this alone. Regina was going to have to help him every step of the way. And she would. She would do anything for her son to be well again. She wiped her eyes before she looked up but she knew she wasn't hiding anything from the man sat opposite her. She also doubted it was the first time a parent had sat across from him and wept. Having a sick child, for that was what Henry was, she realised, was physically painful.

"I know," Regina said quietly. "It's just a bit overwhelming."

"Let's start of with a few simple questions," Archie said. "I see you've already filled in the form with regards to Henry's basic information." He tapped the clipboard which his receptionist had placed on his desk. "So let's talk about Henry. What does he like?"

"Plain crackers, white bread, pasta, canned Heinz beans, tomato sauce, plain yoghurt, strawberry jam, apples, pears, grapes, milk and apple juice," Regina reeled off. "Oh, and he just started eating red capsicum."

"I meant in life generally," Archie offered gently. "But let me make a note of that for when we get onto his eating habits later."

Regina blushed. Why had she assumed that the doctor wanted to know about Henry's limited food intake? Was that what her son had been reduced to? A list of food? He was so much more than that. Archie finished typing the foodstuffs into Henry's file, the doctor's memory well trained to remember lists with ease, and smiled at the woman.

"Ok, so aside from pasta and strawberry jam, what does Henry like?"

"He loves to play soccer," Regina said. "He loves all sports actually. He wants to start playing football but he's too young and … and I'm worried he's too small."

"So he's an active kid," Archie said. "Does he play these sports with his friends?"

"Sometimes," Regina said. "Or sometimes I'll take him to the park and we'll kick a ball around." Bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. Regina chuckled. "I know, I don't look like that sort of mother but out of my work clothes, I'm a different person."

"Do you work a lot?" Archie asked.

"Yes," Regina admitted. "I'm the CEO of a marketing company which my mother started. It's a pretty full on job."

"So while you're at work, where does Henry go before and after school?"

"I have a great child minder who looks after him until five," Regina said. "I'll admit I'm not always on time to pick him up. But I always make sure I drop him at school. The morning routine is mine and Henry's; I'd never want anyone else to do that with him. And in the evening, we always eat together."

Not wanting to get onto the topic of food just yet, Archie continued with his questions. "And how is Henry doing in school?"

"Great," Regina said, beaming with pride. "He's bright. Really bright. Reading is his favourite subject and we always read a book before bedtime. His teachers love him. They always talk to me about how obedient he is and how well he plays with other children. He's very popular. He has a lot of friends. Once a week he goes to his friend Roland's house after school instead of the child minder. I often take Roland at the weekend as well, to give his parents a little break."

"And developmentally," Archie says, "how was Henry when he was growing up."

"You mean like learning to walk and talk and everything?" At the nod of confirmation, Regina continued. "Right on time, if not early. We had an app which tracks your baby's progress and sends you alerts when you should start looking out for new things. Mal freaked out when Henry turned one because he hadn't started walking yet. A few days after his first birthday, he was toddling all over the place."

"Who's Mal?" Archie asked.

Regina did a double take. She hadn't even realised she had said her name. She never said her name. She never talked about that time.

"Mal is my ex wife," she replied. "We had Henry together. Well, I carried him. He is a sperm donor baby."

"You told me yesterday on the phone that you're divorced," Archie said. "Does Mal have any contact with Henry?"

A darkness overcame Regina's face. "No," she replied. "We've not heard from her in over two years aside from the divorce papers I was served with a few months after she walked out." The familiar pang of sadness overwhelmed her body. This was why she didn't talk about it; it was too painful, too raw, too unforgivable.

"I'm sorry," Archie offered.

"Yeah, me too," Regina said.

"So you're raising Henry alone," Archie pressed on.

"Technically yes but I have a good support network. My sister lives near me and my best friend is over a lot too."

"That's great," Archie said. "Support for you is just as important as support for Henry. Have you spoken to your friend or your sister about Henry's eating problems?"

"No," Regina said. "I suppose it's become the elephant in the room. They must know about something's going on but we don't talk about it."

"You said someone recommended you speak to a professional," Archie said. "Who was that?"

"Oh that was Emma."

"Who's Emma?"

"She's …." Regina stopped, unsure how to define her relationship with Emma. She could hardly call her a friend. Three meetings, none of which had been organised, and a short phone call didn't constitute a friendship. "She's an acquaintance."

"An acquaintance," Archie repeated. "Who told you to see a child psychologist?"

"She saw Henry eat a meal," Regina explained. "And she suffered with anorexia herself. I think she recognised the signs and wasn't afraid to come out and tell me what I needed to hear."

"What did you need to hear?"

Regina swallowed thickly. "That my son has a problem and he needs help."

"Let's talk more about that now," Archie said. "When did you first notice Henry's attitude towards his food change?"

"November 2016," Regina said.

"Over two years ago," Archie said slowly, making a mental note to come back to the significance of that time frame but not wanting to question the triggers just yet. "And what changed with regards to his eating habits?"

"He just suddenly refused to eat anything that wasn't on that list I gave you. For about a week I just kept cooking food for him as I always had but he only ate a few items. He was never a fussy kid before. He ate everything. And then he just stopped. He'd pick out anything he claimed he didn't like, even if he'd been eating it fine the month before, and leave the simplest of foods on the plate."

"And what happened after a week?"

"He got a bad cold," Regina said. "It was the first snowfall and I just gave up trying to feed him food he wasn't going to eat. I needed him to regain some of his energy so I made him a big bowl of pasta and tomato sauce. He didn't eat it all but he ate without complaining. I guess from then on I just took the easy option."

"And what is the easy option?"

"Food he's not going to scream at me about," Regina said. "That list I rattled off, that's the only food he'll eat without throwing a tantrum. If I add anything else, he has a meltdown. I've tried hiding new food under things I know he likes. I've tried being strict, bribing him. I've tried everything."

"You said he's started to eat red capsicum," Archie said, consulting his notes. "Is that a new development?"

"Yes actually," Regina said. "Last week."

"Well, when it comes to vegetables, his list was looking rather sparse before then. How did you manage to get him to eat it?"

"We were at dinner," Regina said, "and Emma made him some hummus and vegetables."

"Your acquaintance Emma?"

"Yes," Regina nodded. "She is the chef at the restaurant and she had come out to offer Henry something to eat because there was nothing on the menu he would have eaten. I'd already fed him but he seemed to be interested in the plate she prepared. I left him to it as I had some clients to entertain but when I turned around, he'd eaten a couple of slices. The next night I put some in his usual tomato sauce and he ate it."

"That sounds like progress," Archie said.

"I agree," Regina said. "But I'm not sure it's enough. Henry is small for his age. And even from that list of food, he never clears his plate. I'd never force him to eat anything but I am worried he's not getting enough nutrition. Emma thinks he may be harming his body."

"Medically, he may be," Archie nodded, "but I can't say that without seeing him and without a full medical exam. However, if a growing child doesn't get the nutrition needed, then you are going to see stunted growth, slower development and future medical problems may begin to present themselves."

Regina swallowed thickly. She had noticed Henry's small stature but his school work and development was still great. But what if he was doing damage now which wouldn't become apparent until later.

"Does Henry talk about his weight?"

"No," Regina said. It was one of the reasons she hadn't labelled Henry's habits as an eating disorder. He had never once mentioned feeling fat or overweight.

"Does he talk about good foods and bad foods?"

"Not in the way that good foods are healthy and bad foods make you fat," Regina said. "He has a list of food he'll eat but I don't think they're low in calories. Anyway, he's six, would he even know about that?"

"You'd be surprised," Archie said. "But Henry hasn't mentioned anything about his physical appearance in relation to what he will and won't eat?"

"No, never."

"Does he eat a good amount of the food he will eat."

"He always leaves something on the plate."

"Does he eat at a normal pace?"

"No, he's a slow eater. But so am I. My mother said it was poor manners and bad for your digestion to inhale food. I guess Henry saw that in my eating habits from a young age."

Archie nodded and made some more notes. There was over a minute of silence before Regina eventually broke it.

"What can we do, Doctor Hopper?" The question was desperate, pleading, a mother who didn't know how to help her child and craved answers.

"I'll talk to you more about that after I've met with Henry on Thursday. For now, however, I have a few questions for you personally."

Regina nodded her consent, leaning forwards to take a sip of the glass of water the receptionist had poured for her. "Go ahead."

"You said Henry's eating habits changed in November 2016. That would be around the time your wife left, correct?"

It was a punch to the gut. Not of realisation; she wasn't blind, she knew the significance. But the bluntless had knocked the wind out of her.

"Yes. She left in October."

"I'm sorry to be asking you about what I'm sure was a painful time in your life but I believe it may be very relevant to Henry's behaviour. Can you tell me a little more about what happened between you and Mal?"

"I wish I could," Regina said, a bitterness to her tone.

"What do you mean?"

Suddenly Regina felt like she was the one seeing the psychologist but she continued. She knew it was important Doctor Hopper understood as much as possible before he met with Henry.

"She left," Regina said. "I came back from work one day after picking Henry up from his day care centre and she'd gone. Packed her bags and disappeared. There was a note on the table. It just said that she was sorry but that she wasn't ready to settle down and be a mother and that she couldn't stay any longer."

"She wasn't ready to be a mother? But Henry was four at that time. She'd been a part of his life from the beginning, correct?"

"Yes," Regina growled. "And that's what hurt the most. It wasn't that she had left me. I was heartbroken but that was nothing compared to the way I felt about the fact that she had disappeared from our son's life."

"Did Mal want children?"

"It was my idea," Regina admitted. "But we talked about it for over a year before we actually decided to do it. I was twenty-five. I knew I was gay and wouldn't ever get pregnant from a partner. Mal and I met in college. We'd been together for five years, married for two. I thought we were ready. I thought it was time to take the next step."

"When she was part of the family, how was she with Henry?"

"Good, I guess," Regina said. "I thought she loved him as much as I did. She wasn't the most maternal mother figure but she cared for him right alongside me. I never felt like I was Henry's only mother and that Mal was just there to help me out."

"But then she left."

"I still don't understand it," Regina sighed. "I don't understand how she could leave him."

"Did you ever ask her?"

"No," Regina said. "I've not spoken to her."

"Not once? Not even during the divorce?"

"She left everything to me," Regina said. "There was no arguments over the house or our joint bank accounts. She severed all ties."

"Does she pay alimony?"

"No but I got more than enough in the divorce settlement. Mal was a successful lawyer, my company is profitable. We don't have money concerns."

"After she left, did you try to contact her?"

"Of course," Regina said. "Her cell was disconnected. All her social media accounts were gone. She left. She upped sticks and disappeared from our lives in a matter of hours. None of our friends have heard from her either. No one even had the slightest hint this was coming."

"What did you do?" Archie asked. "That afternoon, when you came home, what was your reaction?"

"I … don't remember," Regina said. "I was in shock, I think. Numb. I went to bed."

"And Henry?"

"The next day I woke up and he was lying in bed beside me, asleep. I remember crying, not for me but for him. His mother had walked away and left him without any explanation. He doesn't deserve that. No one deserves that."

"Those following few days and weeks, what happened?"

Regina paused to think back. It was a time she avoiding reminiscing over but she understood its importance to the doctor. "I took some time off work. A month, I think. I barely left the house. Kathryn, my best friend, took Henry to school and picked him in the afternoon. I just lay in bed all day. Henry would come and join me when he came home. It took over a month for him to learn to sleep in his own room again once I'd pulled myself together."

"Did you tell him what had happened?"

"I didn't know what had happened," Regina said. "I just said that Mommy had gone away and that she wasn't able to live with us any more."

"Did he ask questions?"

"Of course. He was a curious four-year-old."

"Did you answer them?"

"As best I could," Regina said. "I don't lie to my son."

"During this time, what were your eating habits like?"

Regina laughed darkly. "Bad but not in the way you're thinking. I ate crap for weeks. Junk food. Fast food. Anything I could get delivered, so I didn't have to cook. By the time I eventually hauled myself out of bed, none of my work clothes fitted."

"So you dieted?"

"I hit the gym," Regina said. "Ate healthily. As I always did. Life went back to normal."

"After one month of you living in your bed," Archie said.

"Yes," Regina. "I had grieved. I had dealt with my feelings and I was ready to move on."

"Move onto what?"

"My life with my son," Regina said. "Mal was gone but Henry is still here. My focus became only on him."

"And that's when you noticed his eating habits changing?"

"Yes," Regina said. "The first day I went back to work, I came home and cooked him some stir fried rice with vegetables and he wouldn't eat it. We got into a fight. I was tired and stressed and I just wanted him to eat his dinner so we could get on with our evening. He threw the bowl across the kitchen and I sent him to bed without dinner. About half an hour later I felt bad and went in with some bread and strawberry jam. I was too tired to cook again."

Archie nodded and made some more notes as Regina replayed the words she had spoken in her head. This was her life she was reliving but she had never looked at it from an objective position before. Now, knowing what Doctor Hopper must be thinking, the realisation hit her like a tonne of brick.

"This is all my fault, isn't it?" she whispered.

The laptop lid closed quietly and Archie rounded his desk to take the only other adult sized chair in the room, alongside Regina's.

"No, it's not," Archie said. "But I think we're making progress when it comes to understanding what has triggered your son's eating problems. I'm not here to place blame or to point fingers. I'm here to help Henry get better. The only way I can do that is to understand his history. As his mother, you're a big part of that history so I need to know what you have been through and how it might have impacted your son."

"So it is my fault," Regina said, teary eyes now locked on the kind blue eyes of the psychologist.

"No," Archie said. "Not at all. But something which happened in your life has had an effect on Henry. His experience of your divorce and the disappearance of one of his mothers has resulted in this eating disorder. I see it a lot in young children with difficult relationships with food. I haven't met Henry yet and I'll reserve my official diagnosis until Thursday but I think the reasons for his disorder are not related to body image."

"What are his reasons then?"

"I'm not going to speculate any further until I've met with Henry," Archie said. "You're welcome to sit in for our session by the way."

"Would you recommend that?"

"At first, perhaps, while Henry gets comfortable with me and in this space. But further down the line, you and Henry may decide it's better if he sees me alone. It's a personal decision, however, and I'll leave it up to you."

Regina nodded and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. A tissue appeared in front of her and she took it with a nod of thanks.

"We're out of time for today but I think you've given me all the information I need for now. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Just one. Can you help Henry?"

Archie offered a sad smile. "I'll do my very best. He's young, he's not displaying the signs of an eating disorder which is triggered by body consciousness and he has a supportive mother who is going to be there for him. So yes, I think I can help him."

Standing up, Archie held out his hand. Regina stood too and shook it. Handing her his card, Archie reassured the brunette mother that she could call him any time she needed to. She thanked him and left the office.

She was exhausted, she realised when she sat in the car. Emotionally drained from the intense session. Talking about Mal had left her feeling vulnerable. She never spoke of her ex and now she remembered why. It was still too painful. Before she set off towards Henry's child minder's to collect her son, she pulled out her cell, intent on checking her work emails. But a text caught her eye first.

I hope it went well with the psychologist. Remember, if you need to talk, you can call me any time. From Emma

A/N: for those of you who are worried about Emma being Henry's third mother (there were multiple review mentioning this), I would like to think that Mal's actions discount her from being considered his mother. I'll be gentle as I take this story forwards but rest assured this issue will be dealt with. I love you all; happy weekend!