Emma hadn't packed a bag.
She hadn't stormed out, or slammed a door, or yelled something final she couldn't take back.
She'd just said she needed time.
And Regina, stiff-backed and silent, had nodded. Not asked her to stay. Not followed her out.
That was the worst part.
It had been a week now.
Emma's place smelled like coffee grounds and leftover takeout. Her boots were where she kicked them off the first night, her phone dead and she hadn't bothered to charge it. It was quieter here than she remembered—empty, but not peaceful. She hadn't turned on the TV. She hadn't even changed the sheets.
She sat on her couch most nights, flipping through the newspaper or just staring at the ceiling. Anything but thinking about the way Azura's little arms had reached for her at bedtime.
Or the way Regina had stood still in the hallway, not saying a damn thing.
It wasn't that she didn't want them.
It was that she wanted them too much, and she didn't know if they wanted her in the same way.
Magic had forced their hands. Gold had taken something sacred—her and Regina's magic, their love, their trust—and turned it into a child. A child who had Regina's eyes, Emma's awful magic, and a laugh that didn't belong to either of them but somehow fit.
And Emma had wanted her. God, she'd wanted her. But she'd also wanted Azura to be hers—theirs—not some manipulation.
Regina's silence that day had echoed louder than any argument.
And now, a week later, her silence still hadn't broken.
Until there was a knock at the door.
Emma stared at it, heart stuttering.
The knock came again—shorter, more impatient this time. That was enough to move her.
She opened it.
Regina stood there, soaked from the pouring rain, hair dripping. She didn't say anything at first. She just looked at Emma like she was checking to see if she was still real.
Emma opened the door wider. "I didn't think you'd come."
"I told myself I wouldn't."
Emma stepped aside. Regina walked in like she hadn't been gone a second, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her. Her arms stayed folded across her chest like armour, both as a defence mechanism and to ward off the cold.
"I told myself," Regina said again, "that if you needed time, I'd give it to you. I wasn't going to chase you."
"Then why are you here?" Emma asked. She walked to the linin closet and pulled out a towel. She thought about reaching out and drying Regina's hair but decided against it. Instead, she chucked it to the wet brunette.
Regina caught the towel but didn't make an attempt to dry herself – her face dropped, when she saw Emma reach for the towel, she had a bit of hope left that Emma would be typical Emma and do the drying for her. A small gesture, a painful stab.
"Because Azura cried herself to sleep asking for you two nights ago. Because she hasn't eaten properly unless I prepared food the way you do. Because she keeps asking if Mama's mad at Mommy, and I'm running out of things to say."
Emma swallowed hard.
Regina turned to her, eyes bright but guarded. "And because I'm mad at you."
Emma blinked. "What?"
"I'm mad," Regina repeated, voice rising. "You walked out."
"I saw you freeze, Regina," Emma said, stepping forward. "You looked like Gold said the worst thing in the world."
"I was terrified," Regina snapped. "I was terrified that I would ruin it. That I'd ruin her. That I'd ruin you. I've spent most of my life trying to undo the damage I caused, and suddenly there's this little girl looking at me like I hung the stars, and I'm supposed to know how to be worthy of her?"
Emma's chest ached.
"You didn't look as surprised when I told you about Azura being the child of Samedi. But when Gold clarified my link to her– I thought you didn't want a child with me," she said, voice small, "And I couldn't handle that."
Regina's jaw clenched. "You thought I didn't want– No. I didn't like how it happened. The stolen magic. The manipulation. We're women, if you haven't noticed. Having a child together, biologically, is impossible. Getting news that it was done? Not a story that you hear every day. It's the reality we're currently facing." Regina took a breath, then after a beat she looked around, physically restraining herself from pulling a face, "Why did you come back here?"
The fear was evident in Regina's eyes. Emma's home never felt like Emma's. It always reminded her of Killian. It was always the 'Swan-Jones' residence. For Emma to have left the unofficial 'Swan-Mills' home, it meant that she chose to revert to living in a place she herself wouldn't consider home.
Emma looked down. "I didn't know how to stay if you didn't want me there." She looked at the towel in Reginas hand, "Dry your hair."
Regina stepped closer, eyes locked on Emma's. Her voice shook, but she didn't back down, "I never told you to leave. I never wanted you to. You've been living with me for months, Emma. Not officially—not with boxes and declarations—but in all the ways that mattered. You're the one who sat with me, on the floor, through a panic attack. Who held Azura all through the night when she had a nightmare. You made our place feel safe—and I'm not someone who needs protecting, but somehow you made it feel like I could fall apart and still be okay.
When Henry got sick, you were my strength. When he died… I didn't think I'd survive it. But you didn't flinch. You stayed. You kept me breathing when I couldn't even remember how. You've always stood for what you believe in –Even when it meant standing against your own parents. You never stopped fighting for us.
You're the only person who can match me drink for drink. You make me laugh. You're the only one who's ever touched me and made me feel something. And even when you're hurting, even when you're pissed at me—you make sure I eat. You make sure I'm okay before you let yourself fall apart." Regina emphasised her point by moving the towel around, then chucking it on the couch. "The house has been fucking empty without you. I still wake up expecting to see your boots by the door. I reach for you in bed without thinking. Azura asks, every night without fail, if you're coming home. You already stayed, Emma. You're just scared to believe it's real. But it is. So what difference does it make if I finally say it out loud?"
Emma's ears felt like they were ringing, and her voice had a low, jagged edge, "You don't get it. I never thought I belonged there. Not in the house. Not in your life. I stayed because you needed me. But it wasn't enough. Judging by your reaction the other day, I'm not enough. I've fought kings, monsters, my own family—but you?" Emma huffed, "You're the one who scares me. Because with you, I didn't have to be anyone else. I could just be. You made me feel like I mattered. Like I wasn't just temporary. And now, not enough. Now I don't know what the hell I was thinking." She paused, tone changing to something softer, "We laughed, we fought, we fucked. I took care of you, even when I didn't know how to take care of myself. I love you. And you made me feel like I could keep doing it, until last week."
Emma felt like she was on the edge of a cliff. She was ready to jump, "This past week? Hell. I cooked too much, I go to bed full of silence, and I can't sleep. You think I stayed? Yeah, I did. But I didn't stay because I thought I was wanted. I stayed because I didn't know what the hell else to do. You never said it. You never asked. But I'm done wondering."
Emma's eyes stung. "I needed you to say it," she whispered. "Not because I didn't believe you love me. But because sometimes… love isn't enough."
Regina was quiet for a long beat. Then she reached out and took Emma's hand.
"Then I'll say it now. Officially. Out loud." Her voice wavered, but didn't break. "Come home."
Emma looked up at her.
"Come home, Emma. Not for a few nights. Not for Azura. Not because we've been pretending it's permanent. Come home because you're mine. And because you're enough, more than enough."
Emma let out a long, shaky breath.
"I missed you," she said, giving in, her voice breaking. "I missed her. I didn't get to kick her off the bed yet."
Regina gave a watery laugh. "You've been gone for too long, Swan. You'd be lucky if she gives up her spot to you."
Emma smiled, finally. "We'll see."
"I missed you."
They didn't kiss. Not yet. It wasn't that kind of moment. It was the kind of moment where you stand three inches apart and hold hands like it's the only thing tethering you to solid ground.
Emma squeezed her fingers. "We're gonna mess this up."
"Of course we are," Regina said. "But if we mess it up together, we'll be fine."
Emma whispered, "See you later tonight?"
Regina smiled. "I'll leave the light on."
xxx
The sun hadn't fully risen yet. Storybrooke was wrapped in the kind of pre-dawn hush that made the streets feel half-forgotten. The air was cold and clean, the sky a soft watercolor of greys and blue-golds. Emma stood at the edge of the sidewalk, hands in her jacket pockets, eyes fixed on the familiar front door.
It hadn't changed. Same white trim, same cracked planter box to the left, the same little windchime that only ever moved when magic hummed through the air.
She'd expected this to feel heavier. Instead, it just felt… right. Not simple. Not easy. But right.
She didn't knock. She didn't need to.
The door creaked open under her hand, just enough for her to step in. The house was dark, save for the soft golden light spilling out from the kitchen—just enough to guide her forward. She moved carefully, boots silent on the floorboards, like she didn't want to startle the moment.
The kitchen was warm. There was a mug already set out on the counter.
Not hers—but one Regina knew she liked. The one with the chip in the handle, the one she always reached for even though there were fancier, prettier options. It sat beside the coffee pot, full and still hot, with the faintest curl of steam rising in the glow of the stove light.
Regina had known she'd come.
Emma smiled, slow and quiet.
Then she heard it—small footsteps.
She turned just in time to see a tangle of black curls appear in the doorway, one eye still squinting from sleep. Azura rubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand. She blinked. "Mommy?"
Emma crouched without thinking, arms open. "Yeah, baby. I'm here."
Azura didn't hesitate. She crossed the floor in seconds, burying her face in Emma's shoulder with a soft, sleepy whimper that shattered whatever was left of Emma's restraint.
"I missed you," Azura mumbled into her neck.
Emma held her tighter, eyes closed. "I missed you more."
Tiny arms wrapped around her neck, tight like she was afraid to let go.
"Your hair is messy," Azura said softly.
Emma laughed against her. "I'll fix that later."
There were no lectures. No tears. Just the quiet heartbeat of being known and forgiven, wrapped in flannel pyjamas and little girl limbs and the knowledge that somehow, this child—this magical, miraculous child—had never doubted for a second that Emma would come back.
A creak on the stairs made Emma look up. She saw Regina watching from the railing, wrapped in her robe, hair slightly mussed. She didn't say anything. Just looked down at the two of them and offered the kind of smile that felt like home.
Emma met her eyes, nodded once.
Regina's smile widened, but only just. "Coffee's still hot."
"I saw," Emma said.
Regina started down the stairs, slow. "You're late."
Emma shifted Azura in her arms. "Needed just a bit more time."
Regina crossed the room, and without a word, leaned in and kissed Emma on the temple—soft and sure.
Azura yawned.
Regina brushed her hand down her daughter's back. "Let's get you both fed."
The three of them moved through the kitchen like they'd done it a thousand times. Quiet. Easy. Real.
And for the first time in days, Emma didn't feel like she was borrowing space.
She was home.
xxx
The morning unfolded slowly, like a Polaroid developing in real time—edges soft, colors muted, but the image unmistakably there. Emma sat at the kitchen table, Azura curled in her lap with her face pressed to Emma's chest, her breathing already deep and steady. She'd fallen back asleep two bites into her toast.
Regina set a plate down in front of Emma without comment—eggs, toast, and a few slices of apple.
Regina brushed a hand through Azura's curls and smoothed them gently behind her ear. Her fingers lingered there for a moment, grounding herself as much as she was grounding Emma.
They sat like that for a while—two grown women and a sleeping child, stitched back together by coffee, forgiveness, and something more fragile but infinitely stronger: choice.
Emma watched the steam rise off her plate. "She looks bigger."
Regina sat down across from her, cupping her mug. "She'd grown since you left."
Emma's heart squeezed. "Whale or Gold."
Regina arched a brow. "Gold. All of this is his fault, anyway."
The silence that followed was full—not awkward, not tense, but heavy in the way that honesty often is. Emma stroked Azura's back absently, fingers memorizing the tiny bumps of her spine through the fabric of her pyjamas.
"I don't know how to unlearn walking away when I'm scared," Emma admitted, voice low.
"You don't have to unlearn it," Regina said gently. "You just have to choose to stay anyway."
Emma looked up.
"I'm not asking you to be fearless, Emma," she continued. "I'm asking you to trust me enough to let me see you when you're not strong. When you're unsure. When it's messy." Her lips quirked up slightly. "I'm quite familiar with messy."
Emma laughed quietly. "You think?"
Regina shrugged. "Takes one to love one."
Emma tilted her head. "Is that what this is?"
Regina's eyes didn't flinch. "Yes."
Emma blinked fast, throat thick. "Even after all of it? After I walked out?"
Regina leaned forward slightly. "Especially after. Because you came back. After the agreed time, but you still did."
Emma smiled at her, "You made me coffee."
"I have faith in you."
Azura stirred in Emma's lap, stretching and mumbling something about pancakes. Emma kissed the crown of her head.
Regina stood and moved to the stove. "I can make pancakes."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"
Regina turned, affronted. "Since always. I just prefer waffles."
Emma smirked. "You burned waffles."
"That was one time."
"Two."
Regina narrowed her eyes. "Do you want pancakes or not?"
Emma chuckled. "I want pancakes. But only if you promise not to burn them."
Regina poured batter into the pan with far more confidence than the moment warranted. "No promises."
Emma watched her for a long second—watched the easy way she moved in the kitchen, watched the early light catching in her hair, watched the small, habitual movements she made without thinking: reaching for the cinnamon without looking, testing the pan heat with her fingers, flipping the pancake one-handed.
It was domestic. Mundane. Perfect.
"Gina?"
Regina glanced back.
Emma swallowed. She felt like asking Regina to marry her, there and then but that would take the "romance" out of it, instead, she asked, "Can I unpack today?"
Regina paused. Then she turned fully to face her, eyes searching. "You don't have to ask."
"I want to." Emma glanced down at Azura, then back up. "I want to do it right. Officially. I want the drawers. The closet space. The whole thing."
Regina smiled slowly, that particular curve of her lips that Emma had missed like oxygen. "Honey, you already have it. But for the sake of this official conversation, you can have all the space you need."
xxx
Later that night, after Azura was asleep and the house had settled into that hush only night could bring. Emma sat cross-legged on their bed, folding a shirt that used to live in a drawer miles away. Regina was nearby, half-tucked under the sheets, glasses on and a book in her lap she wasn't actually reading.
"You're staring," Emma said, not looking up.
Regina didn't deny it. "You've put that same shirt in three different drawers."
"I'm testing commitment levels."
Regina smirked. "How are we doing?"
Emma slid the shirt into the drawer with finality. "Committed."
Regina marked her page, closed the book, and took off her glasses. "Good."
Emma looked at her. "You gonna say something snarky about my unpacking system?"
"I was going to say welcome home." Regina's voice softened.
Emma crossed the room, climbed into bed beside her, and reached for her hand under the covers. "Thanks."
Regina's fingers laced through hers.
This time, they did kiss.
Regina leaned in and took her mouth. The kiss was slow, unhurried, but Emma felt the tension in her muscles—the need for this had been building for weeks. Emma was the one who deepened it, who shifted forward to press their bodies together. Regina let out a small, almost inaudible sound, and the sound made something ache low in Emma's stomach.
They didn't pull back until they were breathless. Regina's lips were swollen, her eyes heavy-lidded. Emma swallowed hard. "We don't have to—"
"Don't you dare." Regina reached up and grabbed the back of Emma's neck, pulling her down into another kiss.
They didn't talk for a long time after that.
It started slow. Hands under clothes. Teeth on skin. Regina arched when Emma kissed down her neck, her pulse jumping under Emma's lips. When Emma pulled back, there was a sense of vulnerability in Regina's eyes that she hadn't seen before—it was raw and open, and it made Emma's breath hitch in her throat.
"Come here," she whispered, and tugged Regina close.
Regina sat up willingly, her hands finding the hem of Emma's shirt and tugging it upward. Emma lifted her arms to let it slip over her head. Regina removed her own top. Then Emma leaned forward to kiss Regina again. Their bare stomachs pressed together, and the feeling of it was almost overwhelming. Regina's skin was soft and hot, and she shuddered when Emma's hand slid up her side. She kissed Emma's mouth, her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Her hands were everywhere—down Emma's back, over her hips, into her hair.
Regina reached between them and unbuttoned Emma's jeans. "Lift your hips," she murmured. Emma did as she was told, and Regina pulled them down and off, tossing them somewhere over the side of the bed. Emma felt exposed, but not vulnerable. Not with Regina looking at her like she was something to be treasured.
Regina settled back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving Emma's face. "Take the rest off," she said quietly, and Emma obeyed, removing her panties and bra.
She straddled Regina, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Regina's hips. Regina looked up at her, and there was nothing coy or playful about her expression. She reached up and ran her hands over Emma's breasts, her thumbs brushing over Emma's nipples, making her gasp. Emma's hips rocked forward, and Regina met her thrust. Regina leaned up and took one of Emma's nipples in her mouth, sucking gently. Emma groaned and arched her back, her fingers tangling in Regina's hair.
Regina shifted, rolling them over until she was on top. Emma stared up at her, breathless. She needed this. They both did. Regina was all around her, inside her, filling up every part of her.
Regina kissed her way down Emma's body, over her breasts, across her stomach, over the soft curve of her lower belly. Emma closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Regina's mouth was between her legs now, her tongue stroking and teasing. She circled Emma's clit, pulling gasps from Emma with each flick.
Emma writhed, her fingers digging into Regina's shoulders. "Gina," she panted.
Regina hummed into Emma, that, too, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. Regina missed this. Missed the way Emma tasted, missed the sounds her Emma made. Missed the feeling of Emma's fingers pulling at her hair. And she would be crazy for not savoring every second. So, she licked. Sucked. Bit.
"I'm gonna—"
Regina lifted her head and looked up, her mouth glistening with Emma's juices. "Go ahead," she said softly. "It's okay."
Emma shook her head. "Come here."
Regina smiled, her thumb stroking over Emma's clit, then crawled back up the bed and kissed Emma deeply. Emma could taste herself on Regina's tongue, and it made her moan. Regina reached between them, her fingers sliding between Emma's folds. Emma was so wet she could hear it.
"Fuck," Regina breathed. "You're so wet."
Emma nodded, unable to speak. Regina's fingers were inside her now, and her thumb was eagerly stroking her clit. Emma's hips lifted off the bed, and Regina met her, thrust for thrust. Emma came with a cry, her body shaking and trembling. Regina kissed her through it, her fingers still moving inside her.
When Emma finally opened her eyes, Regina was still holding her, her fingers gentle inside her. Emma wrapped her arms around Regina's neck and pulled her down into a kiss.
"Your turn," she said against Regina's lips.
Regina shook her head. "This was about you," she said softly.
Emma kissed her again, deeper this time. "I want you," she whispered.
Regina looked at her, her eyes dark.
"Please," Emma said.
Regina hesitated for just a second. Then she sat up and pulled off her underwear. Emma watched her, her breath catching in her throat. Regina was beautiful—soft, strong and powerful.
She settled between Regina's legs, her fingers already moving.
Watching Emma orgasm was enough for Regina, it didn't take long for her to get close herself.
Regina gasped and arched her hips off the bed. Emma smiled down at her, her expression both tender and wicked.
"You're so beautiful," she said softly.
Emma moved her fingers faster now, her palm pressing against Regina's clit. Regina's eyes closed, and she gave herself over to the pleasure. When she finally opened them again, it was to the sight of Emma between her legs, her mouth on her, her eyes closed in concentration.
It was too much—Regina came again, her body shaking and shuddering. Emma kept her fingers inside Regina, her thumb on her clit, drawing out every last second of her orgasm.
When she finally stopped, Regina was breathless. She lay there, her eyes closed, a small smile on her face. Emma lay down beside her and pulled her into her arms.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Regina nodded, her eyes still closed. "Better than okay," she said, her voice sleepy. "I think you killed me."
Emma laughed softly and pressed a kiss to Regina's temple. "I'm sorry," she teased.
"Don't be," Regina mumbled. "That was amazing."
Emma held her close. "I love you," she said softly.
"Love you too," Regina said, and then fell asleep in Emma's arms.
xxx
The sun had barely crested the horizon when Emma stirred. A pale shaft of morning light crept across the hardwood floor and spilled onto the foot of the bed, warm and creeping slowly upward. It was the soft sound of small footsteps padding down the hall that truly woke her.
She blinked into consciousness just as the bedroom door creaked open.
Azura stood in the doorway, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her hair a tousled halo around her face. "Mommy?" she mumbled sleepily.
Emma sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. Panic surged through her in an icy rush—she was completely naked. And so, sprawled beside her and just as exposed, was Regina.
Shit.
In one frantic motion, she threw the other half of the sheet across Regina's body.
"Azura," Emma said, voice sharper than intended, "turn around."
The little girl blinked, confused. "Why?"
"Because—" Emma scrambled for words as she yanked the sheet higher, suddenly feeling sixteen and caught doing something very illegal, "Just… turn, kiddo. Please."
She glanced to her left. Regina was now awake, lying on her stomach, eyes wide and just as alarmed.
Regina cleared her throat. "Go back to your room for a minute, honey. We'll be right there."
Azura, to her credit, didn't argue. She gave a small nod, turned on her heel, and padded back the way she'd come. The door clicked shut behind her.
Emma exhaled like she'd been holding her breath underwater. Then, she turned to Regina—and promptly started laughing.
Regina stared at her, incredulous. "What the hell was that?"
Emma was laughing so hard she could barely get words out. "We're terrible parents."
With a groan, Regina flopped back on the pillow and dragged the sheet over her head. Her voice came muffled from beneath. "Her curious little brain is going to be full of questions over breakfast. 'Mommy, why did you make me turn around?'"
Emma was cackling now, bent double, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
Regina peeked out from under the sheet to glare at her. "This is your fault."
Emma wheezed through her laughter. "Oh my God, no. You should've locked the door!"
Regina sat up, tugging the sheet around her shoulders. "Since yesterday, this is officially your house too. Shared blame?"
Emma nodded, breathless. "Fine. Shared blame. But we seriously need to get dressed before she comes back for round two."
That sobered them up. They scrambled out of bed, grabbing the nearest clothes they could find, pulling things on at random. In the rush, they reached for the same bra, knocking heads in the process.
"Ow," Regina said, rubbing her forehead.
Emma leaned in and kissed the spot instinctively. "Shit. Sorry."
Regina rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched. "It's fine." She handed Emma the bra. "Here, take it."
Once they were both dressed, they shared a silent, slightly sheepish look. Then they stepped out into the hallway, bracing for toddler interrogation.
But Azura wasn't in her room. Her door was open, the bed empty.
"She's probably in the kitchen," Emma said, already moving.
Regina followed close behind. "She better be," she muttered. "I'm not ready for a game of hide-and-seek before coffee."
But the kitchen, though lit, was empty.
Emma felt her chest tighten. "She couldn't have gotten far."
Regina was already checking the living room. "She's not in here." She turned back. "You check the yard. I'll look in Henry's room."
Emma didn't wait. She crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides and yanked open the back door.
"Azura?"
No answer.
She stepped into the yard. The world still held that early-morning hush—the kind that made it feel like the whole neighborhood was still dreaming. Birds chirped softly from the trees. Leaves rustled in the faint breeze.
"Azura!" she called again.
This time, a small voice floated back to her. "Here!"
Emma's heart skipped. She followed the sound around the garage, breaking into a run. There, seated cross-legged on the dewy grass, was Azura. She was gazing up at the sky, unbothered, her expression serene.
Emma slowed, breath catching. "Hey, kiddo." She crouched beside her. "Whatcha doing out here?"
Azura didn't look at her. She pointed upward. "Clouds."
Emma followed her gaze. The morning sky was streaked with soft pink and orange, cottony clouds drifting lazily across it. "Yeah," she said softly. "Pretty cool."
Azura nodded with quiet solemnity.
Regina appeared a few moments later, breathless and wild-eyed. Relief flooded her face when she saw them.
"She's out here." Emma stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. "You had us worried."
Azura looked up, frowning. "Sorry."
"No need to be sorry," Regina said gently, kneeling beside her. "Just don't sneak off again, okay?"
Azura tilted her head. "Why?"
Regina hesitated. "Because… because we need to know you're safe."
Emma chimed in, "Because we love you, and we need to know where you are."
Azura considered this. Then, with the air of someone accepting a great responsibility, she nodded. "Okay."
She stood and looked at Regina intently. "I have a secret message for you."
Regina blinked. "A secret message?"
Emma raised an eyebrow. "This should be good."
Azura leaned forward, small hands cupped around her mouth like she was shielding something sacred. Regina instinctively mirrored her, leaning in close enough to feel the warmth of her daughter's breath on her cheek.
"Henry said," Azura whispered, "you cry in your sleep."
The words struck with quiet force.
Regina froze.
Emma, still standing nearby, drew a sharp breath, her eyes flicking to Regina's face. The color had drained slightly from it.
Azura stepped back, unaware of the seismic shift in the moment. "But he said not to be sad. He said he's okay."
Regina's throat worked soundlessly for a moment. She stared at Azura, blinking hard.
"Sweetheart," Emma said gently, crouching again, "When did Henry tell you that?"
Azura shrugged. "This morning, so I came to tell you."
Regina knelt slowly, her hand reaching for Azura's. "What else did he say?"
The little girl furrowed her brow in concentration. "He said he misses you. But he said you don't have to miss him all the time, 'cause he's not really gone. Just far. Like... like the moon when it's hiding."
Emma felt something ache deep in her chest. She looked at Regina, whose eyes had grown glassy, but her expression stayed composed—barely.
Regina pulled Azura into a hug, her voice quieter than usual. "Thank you for telling me, baby."
Azura hugged her back, then wriggled free. "Can I have cereal now?"
Emma almost laughed, the way children always returned to the earth no matter how high they seemed to float.
"Absolutely," she said, standing and brushing off her knees again. "We all need cereal."
Regina stayed kneeling a moment longer, staring at the patch of grass where Azura had been sitting. Her fingers idly touched the blades like they might hold warmth, or memory.
Emma offered her a hand. "Come on. Let's go inside."
Regina looked up, nodded, and took it.
They walked back to the house with Azura skipping ahead, already chattering about what kind of cereal they had. The early morning haze was starting to lift, but something else lingered in the air—like the faint scent of rain long gone.
As Emma poured milk into Azura's bowl, she glanced across the counter at Regina.
"Do you think she really saw him?" she asked softly.
Regina didn't answer right away. Her eyes were distant, a muscle in her jaw twitching slightly.
"I don't know," she said at last. "But it sounded like him."
Emma said nothing. She didn't need to.
xxx
Later, when Azura was down for her nap—her cereal bowl emptied, her chatter finally quieted—the house fell still again. The kind of still that settled in layers.
Emma found Regina in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with her back straight and her shoulders too tense. Her hands were clasped in her lap. She wasn't crying. Not yet. She was holding it at bay like she always did—elegantly, stubbornly.
Emma leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment. Then she stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
"She meant it," Emma said, her voice low. "That wasn't imagination."
Regina didn't look up. "She dreams. She's vivid. Kids make up stories."
"She said you cry in your sleep."
That stopped Regina cold.
She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers like she needed to remind herself they were there.
"I try not to," she said after a long silence.
Emma crossed the room and sat beside her, not touching her yet. "You don't have to try."
Regina shook her head, a bitter laugh slipping from her lips. "I used to wake up with him next to me. Every morning. Even if it was just a text. Even if he was already gone to school. There was always something."
Emma nodded slowly. "I know."
"You don't," Regina snapped, then instantly regretted it. She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. That's not fair."
Emma didn't flinch. "I don't know what it was like to raise him. But I loved him. I miss him too."
Regina's face twisted, as if she were fighting something internal, something relentless. "I feel like I'm betraying him," she whispered. "Being happy. Being with Azura. Waking up in a warm bed, laughing. How can I laugh when he's not here?"
Emma's chest tightened. "You think I don't wonder the same thing? Every time I see Azura smile, I feel it. That guilt. Like joy is something we have to earn back."
Regina turned to her then, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I feel like I'm split in half. One part of me is here—trying, pretending. The other part is still holding him."
Emma reached out and took her hand. "Then let me hold the part that's here."
Regina looked at her for a long moment. And then, finally, she leaned in. Emma pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her as Regina buried her face into her shoulder. Her breath hitched once—twice—and then the tears came, silent and shuddering.
Emma held her through it, hand cradling the back of her head like she was trying to keep her from falling apart.
"I keep hearing his laugh," Regina murmured after a while, voice muffled. "In the quiet. I wait for it. I want to hear it. I'm terrified the day will come when I won't remember the sound."
"You won't forget," Emma said softly. "We won't let you."