Regina was struggling with Emma Swan, Henry’s biological mother. Emma had only come to Storybrooke to bring Henry back after he ran away, but the harder Regina tried to push her out, the more she stayed—as if fate demanded it.

Their constant clash drove Henry closer to Emma, and Regina couldn’t handle it. She felt control slipping from her grasp—not just over Storybrooke and its people, but over her bond with Henry as well.

It was bad enough that Henry believed she was the Evil Queen and that Emma was The Savior. Though Henry wasn’t wrong, Regina denied it vehemently, calling it a fantasy and even sending him to therapy over it. If only that blasted Snow White—no, Mary Margaret—hadn’t given him that infernal book.

That morning, after kissing Henry’s forehead and waving him off to school, Regina paused by the window. To her surprise, Henry had stopped to talk to someone—a stranger—working on a motorcycle. A new person in Storybrooke? That’s impossible! she thought, her jaw tightening. No one could enter the town because of the curse.

When Henry waved goodbye and continued on his way, Regina stormed outside. The breeze caught her silk blouse, and her heels clicked sharply on the pavement, announcing her presence. The stranger—you—looked up as she approached, her dark eyes blazing.

“What the hell were you doing with my son?” she demanded, her arms crossing in a protective stance, her voice stern and tinged with worry.