"Where is Ana?" My mother asked, commanding the room as she usually did when she walked in.

The lack of privacy was becoming an inconvenience, but I really couldn't complain. I had spent the entire morning avoiding her, locking myself in the study and letting myself be consumed by all the work I had neglected. Now that all the wedding excitement had come and gone, she had to divert her attention somewhere.

The house was quiet, calm. Despite this- I still could not calm down.

"She's still sleeping, I think," I responded flippantly, trying to not make myself open for more questions regarding Anastasia.

Of course it was useless, in the time they had spent together she had grown very fond of her for some reason. It was clear that the person Anastasia was with me was a stark contrast to who she performed as for other people. I knew her entirely too well, even if she thought I didn't take notice of her. I already knew what her game was and this time I would not give in.

She sighed, putting her hand on my shoulder.

"You have to try, Zayn," she said sternly, her expression holding nothing but disappointment. "You can't expect for everything to be okay..."

"Stay out of it," I interjected, already annoyed. "You have no idea what's going on."

She scoffed, "I know what you're doing. You need to leave the past in the past."

I struggled to hide my guilt. As soon as the words left her mouth, they left me cold. It was impossible for her to know, no one could know what was really going on. Especially not Anastasia.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She shook her head as she took a few steps to get closer to me. Her warm hand caressed my face and for a second it felt like I was just a boy again. Memories of her comforting me, her being there during the worse moments of my life - held me suspended in that moment in time. I could feel my cheeks getting hot.

"I look at you and see someone that I don't recognize."

Before I could even formulate a response, she walked away. The conversation was much more than it appeared to be. I knew that she was done with me. I really couldn't think that she would be so oblivious to everything going on. I give no explanations and yet everything is laid out like an open book.

I made my way up the stairs, hoping that Anastasia wouldn't bring up the conversation from last night. As much as I knew I owed her an explanation, deep down I wasn't willing to give it. Nothing good could come from me being honest with her, or anyone for that matter. I knew what the response would be and the shit show that would follow.

I'm quiet as I enter the bedroom, but she's nowhere to be found. I immediately begin to panic- making haste towards the bathroom, checking the closet, the balcony. I have half the mind to tear up the entire house looking for her. Where was she? Where could she have gone?

"Zayn?" Her little voice breaks me out of my panic. She stands by the door curiously, frowning at the sight.

At that moment I felt foolish. I knew what she thought of me. I was an animal. I had no feelings, no regards for anyone except myself. Despite all that had happened I still felt somewhat responsible. Though I wasn't sure if it was my own doing or the brief talk with my mother leaving a bigger impact than I thought possible.

"Where were you?" I grabbed her hand and she winced, immediately making the growing pit of guilt even worse.

"I was in the garden," Anastasia replied, "I walked past the study on my way out but you didn't notice," she added quietly. "I picked some roses for you."

Taking notice of what she's holding in her hand, the mix of anger and panic subsides.

She set the flowers down on the nightstand. "The gardener told me these are called new dawn roses. They smell sweet."

I really felt like shit now. What had happened this morning that was throwing me for a loop? First my mother, now the roses. My feelings about Anastasia were all over the place. It didn't help that Elena was still in the back of my mind.

"Are you still mad?" She sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest.

The question surprises me.

I took notice then of her, really. She looked so different. Without everything else, she appeared so small and defenseless. I had never really seen her that way. The damage I had inflicted emotionally was physically obvious. She had lost a lot of weight, her once spotless skin covered in fading scars. The bruises I inflicted had gone, but the hurt was so obvious in her eyes. Beneath the happy façade, her pain was clear as day. As she sat there looking up at me for a response, I realized that I don't really know her at all.

"No," I choked out, "it was just a long day yesterday, I'm sorry for how I acted."

I sat next to her, fighting this sudden urge to cry. "I'm sorry for being cruel."

Anastasia offers me a small smile, but her eyes no longer light up when she looks at me. I take her hand gently, stroking her hair out of her face with the other. Her breathing is shaky but she doesn't protest.

"I know you won't believe me, but I missed you," she admitted, "I wonder if you think it was a mistake..."

I sigh, "It was a mistake for me to abandon you here. I thought you would be happy."

"I want to be with you."

I shook my head, "I know."

"I'm trying so hard to be someone you want but I still don't exist in your world."

"That's not true."

"I want to go home," she began to sob, her entire body shaking, consumed with sadness. "Please take me home, please come home with me. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Seeing her so broken made it difficult to think rationally. "I can't, not yet."

My words made everything even worse. She got up from the bed, pacing nervously for a few moments. Anastasia hid her face in her hands as she cried furiously.

"Why? Please just tell me why."

She struggled to catch her breath, not entirely sure of what to do with herself. Anastasia walks over to her vanity and looks at herself in the mirror with a blank expression. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. I wonder for a moment if this is all she's done here- cry. I wish for a moment that her frustration will be taken out on me, instead her fist makes contact with the vanity mirror.

"Jesus Christ," I exclaimed, immediately at her side. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The room felt like a sauna. Anastasia was still crying, not allowing me to touch her or come close to her. It was all happening too fast. At one moment I held her face in my hands, fighting to calm her down. The next, she had locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn't allow me to come in.

"What's going on?!" My mother entered the room, immediately horrified at the sight of the broken mirror and droplets of blood on the floor.

"What did you do?" She asked angrily, shoving me away from the front of the bathroom door. "Ana, sweetie, it's Stef. Why don't you come out?"

"I want to go home!" She screamed.

The sound of more glass breaking. Sounds of her crying in agony. What had I done?

"I'm going to break this fucking door down, Anastasia," I exclaimed frustrated, the little patience I had for her immediately running out.

"Stop, Zayn... you're only going to make it worse..."

I knew I had to be kinder. My mother was right, I needed to try. I just couldn't. I couldn't come up with the patience or reassurance.

"How can I comfort you if you won't let me in?" I asked her, trying to come off a bit more calm. "I promise I'm not going to leave you again, baby, please come out."

For a couple of minutes there was silence. My mother and I waited patiently by the door until we heard the click of it being unlocked. She still didn't emerge, but I took it as an indication that I could come in.

I find her sitting in the bathtub, her shirt covered in blood. I notice immediately she is very scared and before I can even begin to wonder why- I remember.

The bathroom is a mess. It was only a reminder of the rage she had no doubt learned from me. I didn't even know what to say or do. I felt so angry and I knew I couldn't be. She needed me more than ever and I couldn't abandon her again. She was my wife. I had taken her entire life away from her and all she wanted was for me to return home with her.

"Do you want to share the bed with me?" I asked her softly, offering her my hand.

She looked up at me like a wounded puppy, only nodding yes in response. Though it takes me by surprise, she takes my hand. I help her out of the bathtub, aware of how badly she is shaking.

She throws her arms around me, her head on my chest. It seems as if she cannot hold me close enough. She whimpers trying to get me to hold her tighter, but I'm struggling to make sense of everything that just happened.

My mother made her way in, taking in all the chaos. "Are you okay, Ana?"

She gives me a look full of disdain and more disappointment. No matter where I go I cannot escape the disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Anastasia cried into my chest. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, honey, you've been through a lot."She put her hand on Anastasia's back, offering her a small gesture of comfort. "Let's get you cleaned up."

She looks up at me as if asking for permission. The feeling is strange. I nod and she hesitantly frees me from her hold, still shaking slightly.

"Will you put the roses in a vase?"