The Heart That Beats For Her

Chapter Four

Her sister ushers her into her home, but she's numb all over, subconsciously holding the urn closer to her chest like a security blanket. The house is pitch-black, eerily cold, and nothing like the warm and inviting home she has grown accustomed to after fifteen years. She swallows thickly, pleading for that bitter acid to slide back down her throat as she steps inside.

"You should really consider timers for your lights," Zelena mumbles, searching for the switch on the wall while Regina simply hugs the urn even closer, because they do have timers, but for some reason they aren't working this evening and that's something Naveen always took care of for her.

Her heart stutters.

Her sister softly closes the door behind them, securely locks them inside, but Regina just stands there, frozen in place, numb all over from the excruciating ache she can no longer process anymore. She hears the clatter of keys against the side table and then her sister's grumbles under her breath as she releases her feet from her high heels, but Regina can't move.

She can't think about much of anything, her mind awfully dark and quiet like standing in the middle of an alley at three o'clock in the morning with not a soul around. She can't even cry, her tear ducts all dried up after two weeks of weeping uncontrollably. So, she holds her husband's ashes close to her chest and simply breathes.

"Regina?"

"Hmm?"

"Come on, let's get out of these clothes and find something more comfortable to relax in," Zelena whispers into the depressing silence that haunts the home now.

And yes, their home was always quiet, it was only ever her husband and herself around, but there was a comfort in that silence and warmth that filled the air and heated up her heart. Now, the quietness is deafening and sends icy prickles down her spine and she hates it here. She hates the ghosts that linger of their happiness that no longer lives or thrives from their love.

She finds her feet scuffing against the polished floors, without her permission, toward her winding staircase. Her sister is following in her shadow, her hand gliding along the wall for another light switch and Regina clings to the urn even harder. Somehow, she makes it to her bedroom and then she stops, forcing her sister to almost collide into her back.

She didn't think about it before, but now she's panicking, wondering where her husband's ashes belong. Does he stay in their room, where they spent so many nights twisted in each other's embrace? Or does she place him downstairs on the mantel, where they spent every night working together and supporting one another?

"What's wrong, sis?"

"I don't know where to put him," she answers, but her tone is vacant of any true emotion and even to her own ears, she sounds so far away.

"Anywhere, but you don't have to decide that right now. Let's just take one step at a time and the first thing is getting out of those heels, right?" She lightly muses, hoping to brighten up her sister's mood even though nothing will turn that frown upside down. "Where are your pajamas?"

Regina doesn't reply, instead her feet carry her to her husband's side of the bed and she pauses. She stares blankly at his nightstand, pleading with life to reverse the clock and bring back the love of her life.

"I think," Zelena cautiously whispers, stepping behind her baby sister, "he would be most comfortable there."

Regina releases a breath she didn't even know she was holding and hugs that urn one last time before settling him down on his nightstand. She moves slowly, away from the nightstand until she is opening up the dresser drawer and pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from NYU. Zelena doesn't even have to ask, she knows it's all Naveen's.