“They were cursed,” She explains with an accompanying, affirmative nod. A nonchalant gesture with her hand follows. “And I was in the system; I didn’t know who my parents were. Fairytale characters were my last guess.” The why’s and how’s of it all seem unimportant in that moment. Those were the facts. Emma was an orphan. Even her mother would deem as much true, now.

“I figured it out eventually,” and she doesn’t feel particularly in the mood to spin that tale. The point is that she figured it out, and her mother’s here now.