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Regina is washing dishes when the realization strikes her so hard and so suddenly.
Why had Emma stayed in town that fateful night?
All this time, she had assumed Emma hadn’t believed her when she’d claimed to love Henry. But a small understated fact has since plagued Regina making her wonder again and again as to what had forced the savior to remain. And Emma had murmured enough times in self-depreciating afterthought that she could tell if someone was lying. As far as Regina knew, this included herself.
It wasn’t her bitter proclamation that she loved her son which had raised Emma’s suspicions; she did love her son after all, very much so.
Regina smiled viciously as she wiped a mug dry. Her threat. It had been her threat which had raised Emma’s hackles. The threat that any other would have taken to be the desperate yet empty snap of a cornered mother. Not Emma. Not she who detected truth and lies. No. Emma had known from the moment her threat was uttered that she, Regina, was as vicious as her words painted her.
Regina turns and leans against the bench, recalling her own vow: ‘I will destroy you, if it’s the last thing I do’.
That intrusive savior's decision to stay had been her own damn fault.