Okay, so for this to make sense you need to know when this takes place.
So let's just pretend that after they got back from Isaac's book there were no more problems, and that brings us to today.
Enjoy!
Emma had never liked her birthday.
She had never celebrated it, never had anyone to celebrate it with.
She just didn't see the point in celebrating. It didn't seem special enough. She never felt special on the day that came every year - or any day for that matter.
So today, her birthday, she made no big deal of it.
She woke up and got ready for work. Drove through the streets of Storybrooke in her yellow bug to the sheriff station where her father awaited her arrival.
And he didn't even tell her happy birthday.
She knew she shouldn't care, kept telling herself over and over again it didn't matter.
Yet, she couldn't stop the dull ache in her chest. She just ignored it and did her job.
Around lunch, her mother came to the station every Friday as usual. With her she brought a grease stained brown paper bag from grannies. In her other hand, a drink carrier with three steaming cups of coffee.
Mary Margaret greeted them happily, getting a kiss from her husband and a hug from her daughter.
And she too, didn't wish Emma a happy birthday.
The dull aching she felt in her chest grew,and a lump formed in her throat.
She ignored it and tried to enjoy the meal with her loving parents.
After lunch, when Mary Margaret had gone back to work, David got a call. It was something small, a group of kids tried to take a few candy bars from a drug store. David just had to go check it out and call the kids' parents.
Emma offered to help, yet David insisted he could handle it.
He left, the door slamming and causing a loud echo to follow, and Emma felt how she hoped she'd never feel again.
She felt alone.
She sat in her office, and worked on some paperwork. She hadn't realized it, but she had started to cry, leaving circular water stains on the papers laid neatly on the oak desk.
She shot up and paced around, forcing herself to calm down.
She wiped off her damp cheeks and took deep breathes.
Then there were footsteps that broke the screaming silence of the station.
"Swan," Killian said, his think accent rolling off his tongue and filling the air.
"Hey," Emma said, hoping her wouldn't notice how she'd just been crying.
He didn't.
They talked for a while, and he made the knot in her chest go away. And she almost forgot the pain of no one telling her happy birthday.
Almost.
After bidding Killian goodbye, she finished up her paperwork before heading back to the loft she shared with her parents, her brother, and her son.
She really needed her own place.
She had found a place, out by the docks. It was a small house, she didn't need much space.
