Chapter Text
Emma’s childhood home hadn’t changed much since she moved out. The same cream-colored walls, the same slightly creaky floorboards, and the faint scent of her mother’s lavender candles greeted her as she and Regina stepped inside.
“Em! Regina!” Nila’s excited voice rang out as she practically tackled her sister in a hug. “I missed you!”
Emma laughed, hugging her back. “Missed you too, Nila.”
Regina gave Nila a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
Emma’s mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Dinner’s just about ready,” she said with a smile. “We’re so happy you two could come.”
Her father, however, barely spared a glance from his seat in the living room. “Hope you haven’t forgotten how to set the table, Emma.”
Emma stiffened, but Regina’s gentle squeeze of her hand grounded her. “Of course not, Dad,” she said, forcing a smile.
Dinner started off well enough. Nila kept up a lively conversation, her enthusiasm helping keep the atmosphere light. But Emma knew it wouldn’t last. It never did.
“So, Emma,” her father said, setting down his fork. “You’re still doing that job of yours? Tech or whatever?”
Emma swallowed, already feeling her stomach twist. “Yeah, Dad. I’m still in software development.”
“Hmph.” He took a sip of his water. “Not exactly stable, is it? Jumping from one company to another, always for a different project, never knowing if you’ll have a job in a year.”
Emma clenched her jaw. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure it isn’t,” he muttered. “Back in my day, people stuck with one job. None of this freelancing nonsense. You kids these days have no sense of stability.”
Emma gripped her fork so tightly her knuckles turned white. She could feel the familiar heat behind her eyes, the way her mind started to slip, words blurring together.
“I think Emma knows what she’s doing,” Regina said smoothly, ever the peacemaker.
Her father barely acknowledged her. “I just don’t want her making mistakes she can’t fix.”
That was it. The final straw. Emma stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me,” she mumbled before turning on her heel and rushing upstairs.
She barely registered the sound of Regina’s voice, or her mother’s sigh. All she knew was that she had to get away.