Saturno
Emma (POV)
The night at the Rabbit Hole blurred into a haze of music and fragmented conversations, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in a sea of memories and possibilities that would never come to be. Hook's presence had been a welcome distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase the image of Regina entering the bar—her gaze locking with mine for a brief moment before disappearing into the crowd.
After Hook and I shared a dance, I retreated to a corner of the bar, watching the door as if expecting Regina to come back and magically resolve everything between us. But as the night went on, she didn’t reappear.
Ruby and Snow tried to keep my spirits up, sharing stories and laughter, but I could barely muster the energy to pretend I was interested. My heart was elsewhere, caught in a limbo of emotions and uncertainty from which I couldn’t escape.
That’s when my phone buzzed in my pocket—a distraction I hadn’t expected. I assumed it was a work issue, something that would give me an excuse to leave the bar and the weight of my thoughts behind. But when I saw the screen, my heart skipped a beat. It was a message from Regina.
"I couldn’t say this in person, but we need to talk. Can I see you tomorrow?" the message read—simple and direct, but loaded with a significance that left me breathless.
For a moment, I stared at the message, unable to formulate a response. What could Regina possibly say that hadn’t already been spoken in our glances and awkward silences? Was there anything left to say after everything that had happened?
“Everything okay, Emma?” Snow asked, noticing my sudden change in demeanor.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” I lied, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “I think I’m going to need something stronger to drink.”
As I headed to the bar, my mind raced around Regina’s message. Part of me wanted to ignore it—to close that door for good and try to move on with my life. But another part, the one still clinging to the memories of the good moments we had shared, wanted to know what Regina had to say. I wanted to understand if there was any possibility of redemption, or at least of friendship, after everything we had been through.
I ordered a double whiskey and leaned against the bar, letting the clamor of the Rabbit Hole surround me. The music, the laughter, the clinking of bottles and glasses—all of it seemed to muffle the storm of my thoughts.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ruby asked, joining me at the bar with a concerned look.
“Honestly? I’m not sure,” I admitted, taking a sip of my drink. “Regina messaged me. She wants to talk.”
Ruby’s expression shifted to one of understanding and support. “Whatever happens, Emma, you know we’re here for you. You don’t have to face this alone.”
I nodded, grateful for the unwavering presence of my friends. I knew that, no matter what I decided about Regina’s message, I wouldn’t be alone. But I also knew that ultimately, the decision to confront Regina and hear what she had to say was mine alone.
The night ended without further incident, and I said goodbye to Ruby and Snow, promising to keep them updated on any developments. As I walked home under the starry Storybrooke sky, Regina’s message echoed in my mind.
What could that conversation mean for us? Would it bring the closure we needed, or the beginning of something new? I didn’t have the answers, but I knew that, for better or worse, I had to find out. Because, in the end, not knowing was worse than any truth Regina could have for me.
The walk home, under the night sky of Storybrooke, gave me a moment of peace—a much-needed pause to sort through my thoughts. The town, with its quiet streets and soft lights, seemed oblivious to the turmoil stirring within me. The thought of facing Regina the next day, of hearing what she had to say, filled me with a mix of anxiety and cautious hope.
When I got home, I collapsed onto the couch, the silence of the place enveloping me. Regina’s message remained on my mind, pulsating like an open wound. How different would our conversation be this time? In the past, whenever we had tried to talk, the words always fell short, incapable of capturing the complexity of what lay between us.
I allowed myself a moment to reflect on everything that had happened—on every choice that had brought us to this point. Despite the pain and misunderstandings, I couldn’t deny the significance of Regina in my life. She had been my adversary, my ally, and, in the most unexpected moments, my friend. The connection we shared, forged in the heat of battle and the vulnerability of trust, was not something that could be dismissed easily.
With a sigh, I pulled out my phone and typed a response: "Alright, let’s talk. Tomorrow at Granny’s." Sending that message felt like releasing a butterfly in my stomach—a flurry of nerves and expectations fluttering inside me.
I tried to distract myself with a book, but the words blurred together on the page. My mind was with Regina, wondering where she was at that moment—if she, too, felt this restlessness, this need for resolution.
Eventually, I gave up on sleep and headed to bed, knowing full well that rest would elude me. I stared at the ceiling in the dark, letting memories of Regina and me flow freely. The shared laughter, the challenges we had faced together, the moments of silent understanding. Each memory was a thread in the complex tapestry of our relationship—a tapestry that was far from complete.
As the night slipped into morning, a quiet determination began to settle over me. No matter what Regina had to say, I was ready to face it. Because, at the end of the day, what we both needed most was clarity—a sense of where we stood with each other.
When sleep finally claimed me, it did so with the promise of a new day—a day of answers and, hopefully, new beginnings. Perhaps, after our conversation, Regina and I could find a way forward—together or apart. But whatever the future held, I knew that facing it with honesty and courage was the only path to true peace.