She'd tried everything. Feeding him, burping him, rocking him, cuddling him, even singing to him. But Henry would not stop crying. Regina didn't know what else to do.

Maybe that was why she turned up on your doorstep. You'd been in the middle of folding some freshly cleaned clothes when you'd heard three frantic knocks against your door. You called out that you'd be there in a minute, but you could practically hear the heels shuffling and clicking against your doorstep. When you did eventually open the door, the sight of Regina, looking more stressed than you'd ever seen her, and holding Henry in her arms, was what greeted you.

Despite your initial surprise that the Mayor was on your doorstep, of all people, you didn't hesitate to let her in. The woman looked utterly exhausted. Her black hair slightly frazzled, her clothes wrinkled, and eye bags so big you could mistake them for black eyes. You didn't know if you dared to ask when the last time she slept was.

"I've tried everything. He's been fed, winded, I've been rocking him back and forth or holding him in my arms when that didn't work. But he just won't stop,"

Regina explained, fatigue and a hint of desperation lacing her tone. She didn't understand what she was doing wrong. So much so that she was now looking up at you pleadingly, asking for help but not bringing herself to do so verbally. You didn't know whether to comfort her or Henry.