Mia stepped into Granny's Diner, steeling herself for yet another attempt at "family bonding" that she knew would be laced with a mix of awkwardness and tension. Emma had insisted on the dinner, roping her into it with a text promising that they'd keep things "light and fun." But Mia could see the hope in Snow and David's eyes every time they invited her somewhere, as if they were waiting for her to stop holding them at arm's length.
She spotted them in the back, Emma waving her over, and she took a breath, walking toward them. Sliding into the booth beside Emma, she flashed a smirk.
"So, what's on the menu? An awkward family dinner special?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
David chuckled, though Mia could see the tension beneath it. "Glad to see your sense of humor's intact."
Emma nudged her. "Come on, be nice. We're just here to have a meal together, no lectures included. We even bribed you with food, remember?"
Mia snorted, reaching for a menu. "Right, because bribery is the cornerstone of every great family relationship."
Snow managed a small, patient smile, though Mia could sense the slight edge to it. "It's more about spending time together, Mia. Getting to know each other."
"Is that what we're calling it?" Mia muttered, glancing at the menu. She hid behind her sarcastic tone, hoping they wouldn't press her on it. Pushing them away had become second nature by now. It was easier to keep them at a distance than to let herself believe that maybe she could count on them.
They ordered, and Emma launched into a story about her day as sheriff, embellishing every detail and making Mia laugh despite herself. But she could feel Snow and David's eyes on her, watching her closely, their concern seeping through even when they weren't speaking.
After a lull in conversation, Snow spoke up, her voice gentle but filled with unspoken questions. "Mia… I know you've been dealing with a lot, and we're not here to pressure you. We just… we want you to know that you don't have to go through it alone."
Mia's grip on her glass tightened, her expression neutral. "I've been fine alone so far. Not like I've had much choice, right?"
David sighed, a mixture of frustration and sadness flickering in his eyes. "We know, Mia. And we're not trying to pretend the past didn't happen. But you don't have to keep pushing us away."
Mia rolled her eyes, her voice laced with forced nonchalance. "Who says I'm pushing you away? Maybe I just prefer my space."
Emma glanced between them, shifting uncomfortably. She'd seen this tension before, the dance Mia did to deflect any sign of vulnerability, and she knew how deeply Snow and David wanted to break through it.
Snow's voice softened, her patience tinged with a quiet ache. "Mia, we're not asking for everything all at once. But if there's ever anything you want to talk about, anything at all… we're here. You don't have to use humor to cover everything up."
Mia gave a forced laugh, leaning back in her seat. "Why not? Humor's more fun than… whatever this is."
Snow's expression tightened, the pain in her gaze unmistakable. Mia could tell she was trying to hold back, to let Mia come to them in her own time, but the weight of all the missed years hung heavily in the air. David looked at her, his own expression a mixture of patience and helplessness, as if he didn't know how to reach her but was determined to keep trying.
"Look," Mia said, her voice sharper than she intended. "I know you're trying to do the whole… parent thing, but I don't need it. I'm fine. I've always been fine."
Emma placed a hand on her arm, her voice calm but firm. "Maybe you don't think you need it. But that doesn't mean it wouldn't help."
Mia pulled her arm away, shrugging. "I don't need your help. I've managed without it my whole life."
Snow's gaze softened, her voice barely a whisper. "And that's what hurts the most, Mia. You shouldn't have had to do it alone."
Mia's sarcastic facade slipped, if only for a moment, and she looked down, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable passing through her eyes. But just as quickly, she hardened her expression, pushing the emotion down.
"It doesn't matter now. What's done is done," she said, her tone cold, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
David leaned forward, his voice gentle but insistent. "Mia, we know it's going to take time, and we're not expecting everything to change overnight. But you don't have to be alone anymore. We want to be here for you, even if it's hard."
Mia looked away, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She didn't want to admit it—not to them, not to herself. She didn't want to admit how much she needed them, how badly she wanted to believe she could rely on them. But the years of hurt and loneliness had built walls around her heart, walls she wasn't ready to tear down.
"Can we just… drop it?" she muttered, her voice barely audible. "I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that enough?"
Snow took a deep breath, her voice shaky but filled with quiet resolve. "It's enough for now. But we're not giving up, Mia. Not on you, not on us."
The silence that followed was heavy, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Mia felt her throat tighten, the weight of their words pressing down on her, but she pushed it aside, forcing herself to keep her walls up.
The food arrived, and they ate in a quieter, more subdued atmosphere. Emma attempted to lighten the mood with more stories, but Mia could feel the lingering tension, the unspoken words that hung between them.
As they finished and got up to leave, Snow reached out, placing a gentle hand on Mia's shoulder. Mia tensed but didn't pull away, letting Snow's hand linger there for a moment.
"We'll be here whenever you're ready," Snow said softly, her gaze filled with both love and patience.
Mia nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and turned to leave with Emma, Snow, and David following close behind. The walk back to the loft was quiet, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts. Mia couldn't shake the ache in her chest, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to carry everything alone.
But for now, she kept her distance, her walls still firmly in place.