Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emma's stomach is a gurgling mess as she quietly walks through her front door. She softly turns the lock and attempts to breathe away the torment burning her gut because she has never once cheated on anyone before in her life and today, she cheated on her husband. It's not something she takes lightly, but in the same aspect, she is willing to do it all over again and that makes the situation so much worse.

She's nauseous at the prospect of starting an affair with her next door neighbor and yet, if she had the chance, she would do it all over again. Regina's kiss was intoxicating, and her body is already craving another taste. And the only logical explanation she can come up with, is that she and Regina are meant to be together. She knows their connection is true when she peers deeply into those dark eyes and watches as the color morphs into a warm honey that's just for her. She feels the sensation is her gut when those hibernating butterflies come to life, flapping around excitedly whenever the brunette is near. And she definitely has confirmation from the way her heart swells and for once in her life, the organ feels full, protected, and safely nestled at home.

Yet, all of that doesn't excuse her actions and she knows it's wrong and she doesn't want to hurt Killian in any way. She's just...torn.

She takes a few deep breaths to settle her conflicting heart and mind before she ventures on through her home. Through their sliding glass door, she can see Killian in the backyard, grilling their dinner. Her body instantly paralyzes in the living room while her eyes take a moment to study the man just outside. She watches as he slowly sips his rum from the tumbler and he feels familiar to her, but there is no spark between them. She knows she does love him, but the sensation feels dull, lifeless, and not at all what she wants in life.

Her mouth fills with a bitter acid as her mind wanders and she tries to think back to when she first met him. It's all a hazy blur now, but something is telling her that she ended up with him out of comfort, not out of love. She can't remember the time or place of where their love began and that creates a sudden urge of panic in her chest, and she thinks it's because she feels like maybe she was with him for convenience. And that alone makes her feel even more sick to her stomach.

In that moment, she knows her marriage won't last much longer. Whether Regina wants her or not, she knows her marriage won't survive. She can't possibly live this lie anymore, she needs to be true to who she really is.

Tentatively, she walks through her house and out the door to meet Killian. Her stomach is in knots and threatening to release all over her patio, so she forces herself to swallow down her inner turmoil.

"Smells good. What's cooking?" She nervously asks, breathing in the tangy aroma wafting through the air.

"Cajun jerk chicken," he rapidly informs her. "How was your day, love?" And he's beaming at her, leaning in to place a sweet kiss to her cheek, only provoking her heart to squeeze painfully in her chest, fighting back its tears of sorrow.

She swallows again, hoping to appear calm when she answers. She snatches up a carrot beside the grill and pops it into her mouth as a distraction. "Good," she mumbles, shrugging casually and praying she comes off indifferent. "I'm going to get Henry for dinner," she politely excuses herself and squeezes his shoulder sweetly as she passes him by to play along with the facade of their marriage.

Except, something was off. As the evening progressed and they sat down for dinner, the atmosphere felt awfully thick, and she swore she was going to choke on the tangible tension poisoning the air. Thankfully, Henry kept the conversation flowing all throughout dinner and she knew if he wasn't there, she and Killian would have suffered in the deafening silence.

After dinner, Henry went to his room, claiming he was behind on a project and Emma excused herself again, claiming she was tired and not feeling so well. Her husband followed her to bed, that terrible silence following them into their nightly routine as well. Eventually, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, but she could tell he was propped up on one elbow, leaning over her, watching her sleep.