We May Not Have Yesterday, But At Least We Have Tomorrow

Chapter One

Her eyelashes flutter to life from the internal clock that has not reset since her baby boy no longer lives with her. She cranes her neck to read the glowing clock on the nightstand that informs her that yes, it is one minute before she is supposed to wake up and greet the day. One minute before she is supposed to stretch with a smile on her face, so ecstatic to wake her son. The only true love she will ever need in this world, one that she fought tooth and nail for.

Except, her heart clenches painfully tight and there's a pit in her stomach, reminding her that he has a new family now. He has a new mother. One that gave birth to him and promises she won't ever leave...again. One that was specifically born into this world for saving and pure goodness that she could never compete with because her destiny was to always be this hero's villain. And it doesn't matter how good she is, or how hard she tries to prove to her son that she can change, she will always be seen as the villain.

The alarm blares that godawful sound that makes her want to scratch her own ears off. She slams her hand down on the clock and groans because she rather slip under a sleeping curse than endure another day without her precious baby that she spent ten whole years protecting from this cruel world just to have him turn his back on her in the end and leave her for dead.

Alright, maybe not dead. He has told Emma multiple times to never allow her to die, yet, he still won't come home. Apparently, she is not worthy of death but drowning in her own misery, depressingly alone in a mansion made for a beautiful-lovely family is the perfect punishment.

She groans into her pillow, summoning all her strength to force herself out of bed, all because it's three days before Christmas and she is going to try her damndest to convince her son that he should spend the holiday at home. She also needs to persuade Miss Swan into trusting her with him and not assume that she is going to kidnap him.

So, with a heavy heart and even heavier feet, she stumbles out of bed. She moseys on over toward the window and yanks open the curtain, silently praying that there will be sun shining down on their miserable town because she could use the boost of energy. Unfortunately, she is greeted with thick, sparkling snowflakes that almost appear fake...or even magical.

"Ugh," she scoffs to herself, rolling her eyes and stomping back toward her bathroom to start her routine.

By herself, because that's how she has been spending twenty-eight-excruciatingly-boring-years, she prepares for the day. She starts off with her shower, allowing the burning water to loosen the muscles that seem to just tighten more and more with each insufferable day that passes. When she is all finished, she flicks her wrist, ensuring that her hair and makeup are done to perfection because once Gold summoned magic into their make-believe town, she stopped wasting time on that.

Soon, she's in the kitchen, staring aimlessly at the burners she no longer needs because what is the point in whipping up a batch of pancakes, French toast or crepes for one? She breathes out a heavy sigh and begs herself not to cry this morning.

However, too many beautiful memories flash before her eyes; the first time she ever calmed Henry down was right in this very kitchen. Her heart aches, the pressure so heavy that she has to press her hand flat against her chest. Her vision blurs and all she can truly see is that adorable chubby face with a dust of freckles splattered across his nose. She can so perfectly hear his sweet baby giggles that were always so contagious. She distinctly recalls every time she sat Henry up on the counter, he was always so eager to help her cook, breakfast or baking, didn't really matter, Henry was always so excited to help her. He was her shadow and she ate up every single moment and now it's all gone and she doesn't think she can stand another depressing morning without him.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, an attempt to ward off those pesky tears but it's too late. The cold liquid escapes, trickling down her cheeks and she can already feel a stress-induced headache coming on. Coffee. She needs coffee stat. She just feels so drained, not an ounce of energy to even make the damn pot. She contemplates using magic but it just doesn't taste the same, besides, she promised Henry she would work on not using magic. The bathroom routine is her only fault but it's not hurting anyone and he never has to know.