Chapter 3
Regina stands and places her glass on the table before walking over to her desk. She picks up one of the many books scattered across its surface, flipping through the pages with a sigh.
“You still haven’t found anything to break the Snow Queen’s curse on Marian?” Emma asks, watching her closely.
Regina exhales, shaking her head. “No. Henry and I have been searching all day, but I suppose I’m just not powerful enough to break a curse like this.”
Emma shifts on the couch, hesitating. “Regina, about Marian… I—”
The sharp ring of a phone cuts her off.
Regina tenses for a brief second but quickly masks it, secretly relieved. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. She was still furious—not just at Emma for bringing back Robin’s dead wife, but at the aching in her chest every time she thought about it.
No. Not just furious. The pain was deeper than that. It made her want to rip her own heart out and lock it away again.
But she doesn’t.
Emma picks up the call, sounding instantly annoyed—which means it’s either her parents or Hook.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m at Regina’s… No, she won’t set me on fire.” Emma glances at Regina. “At least, I don’t think she will… No, I don’t want to talk about the date… No, Dad, he didn’t hurt me. If anything, I think I hurt him.” She huffs. “Yeah, I’ll call you later. Bye.”
Emma sighs as she ends the call, rubbing her temple. She loved her parents, even if she never said it. But sometimes, they were a pain in the ass.
“Sorry. Where were we? Oh yeah, Marian—”
Regina cuts in quickly. “Emma, no.”
Emma blinks at her.
Regina exhales. “I can’t say I forgive you, because I don’t. Not yet. I’m just… not ready for that. But—I understand why you did it. And I’m sorry for what I said at the diner.” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “You couldn’t have known who she was. Honestly? Neither did I, not at first.” She shakes her head. “I just… I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m still angry, and I don’t want to say something else I might regret.”
Emma studies her with an expression Regina can’t quite read.
“What?” Regina asks, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Emma stands up, setting her glass beside Regina’s. Then, without thinking, she steps closer and takes both of Regina’s hands in hers.
Regina’s breath catches.
Emma tilts her head slightly. “I’m just… really proud of how much you’ve changed.” Her voice is quiet, sincere. “The old Regina really would’ve set me on fire for what I did.”
Regina lets out a short, humorless laugh.
“I know you’re hurt. And I know you probably hate me,” Emma continues, squeezing Regina’s hands gently. “And that’s okay. I get it. I’ll give you as much time and space as you need to forgive me.”
Regina feels Emma’s hands warm and heavy around hers. Her first instinct was to pull away, to step back and shut down. But she didn't.
She just listened.
There’s a sharp sting in her chest, one she doesn’t quite understand.
Emma waits. Hopes. For a response. Any response.
“Regina, please say something. Did I say something wrong?”
Regina swallows. “Yeah, you did.”
Emma’s heart stutters. “What?”
Regina holds her gaze. “You said I hate you.” She exhales softly. “But I don’t. I was angry, and your parents are right—I did think about setting you on fire for a moment.” She smirks faintly, then her expression softens. “But hate you? No. As if I ever could.”
Her last words come out more like a whisper, but Emma hears ver well.
Silence stretches between them. Something unspoken lingers in the air.
Then Emma shifts, breaking the moment. “I should go.”
Regina lets go of her hands, nodding slightly. “Yeah. It’s getting late.” She runs a hand through her hair, leaving it messier than before.
They walk toward the door together, the atmosphere still thick with something unsaid.
Emma hesitates at the threshold, glancing back. The dim light from the fireplace casts a golden glow over Regina.
“Well,” Emma exhales, shifting on her feet. “Thanks for… listening. I guess.”
Regina raises an eyebrow. “Don’t mention it. Really.”
Emma huffs a small laugh. “Good night, Regina.”
Regina watches her for a beat, something flickering in her eyes before she looks away. “Good night, Miss Swan.”
Emma lingers for a second longer before finally pulling the door shut behind her.
Outside, the cool night air wraps around her as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. The streets are quiet, save for the distant crash of waves against the docks.
She takes a deep breath, then heads to her car.
The next day
Emma drives through town, her fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. Last night lingers in her mind—her conversation with Regina, the realization that she and Hook weren’t meant to be.
Then, suddenly—ICE.
The road glosses over in an instant.
“Shit!”
Her tires lose traction. The Bug skids wildly, spinning out of control. She barely manages to stop before slamming into a lamppost. Her heart pounds.
Then she sees her. A woman stands calmly in the middle of the street. Tall. Blonde. Cold blue eyes.
The Snow Queen.
Emma’s breath catches as she shoves open her door and steps out. The Snow Queen doesn’t move—she simply stands there, watching.
Emma’s instincts scream at her—this isn’t normal. She takes a cautious step forward, but the moment she does, the Snow Queen turns and walks away.
Emma quickly draws her gun and follows. But no matter how fast she moves, she can’t seem to catch up—even though the Snow Queen’s pace remains slow and deliberate.
Then, suddenly—she’s gone.
Emma’s pulse races. She spins in place, searching the street.
No footprints. No trace of her.
What the hell is going on?
Her phone rings, breaking the silence. She startles, fumbling for it.
Belle.
She presses it to her ear. “Belle?”
Belle’s voice is urgent, shaken. “Emma! I need you at the library. Now.”
Emma doesn’t hesitate. She rushes back into her car, slamming the door shut.
“What’s wrong?”
Belle’s response is tense. “We have a situation.”
Emma puts the car in gear and speeds off.
Back into the disaster called her life.