My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 So, I have to say it. I don't blame Ana for not enjoying her husband coming on to him too strong. it's not because they are married that he can do that. It's not the passion she didn't enjoy, it's the fact that Christian was scaring her. I don't think she is stuck up for being scared of her husband doing a 180 during their intimate moment. Fear is fear, and I don't think she should be shamed for being afraid. (I am saying that also because of the way her brain will go in the chapter)

💚 Now, it was their first kiss since the ceremony, but was it actually a kiss since she clearly didn't enjoy it?

💚 If you want pictures of the story, just check out my Facebook group, Mina's Broccolis, and you will find pictures as the story unveils. And a few sneak-peeks here and there as well.

💚 From Duty To Love💚

Chapter 16: Apologies Turning Sour (4,0K)

Anastasia's PoV

When I wake up the next day, my head is hurting and my stomach is unsettled. I have never seen Christian act like that, and it is slightly frightening. For the past five months that we have been married, Christian has been nothing but sweet, kind and gentle. In fact, I have grown to feel safe around him.

He does have his moments when he speaks louder than usual, but I like to believe that he would never lay a hand on me, or behave so … oddly. He was really scary last night as if he barely heard me, but at least he stopped. I don't know if it's what I told him, or if it was because I was sobbing, but he stopped.

And … I don't want this situation to happen again. I don't know what happened to Christian last night, but I really hope this was the first and last time anything like that ever happens.

I have to get dressed twice because one again Christian has marked my neck. So I put a dress with a high neckline before going to the dining room. For the first time in our marriage, Christian is not already sitting and it worries me a little so I go knock on the door of his office, though I get no answer. I go back to the dining room and ask Mrs Jones if she has seen my husband. She informs me that she hasn't seen him and that his bed has not been slept in.

In fact, my husband remains errand for the rest of the day. For the first time in my married life, I am all alone on a Saturday, and it makes me feel like I have done something wrong. I wish I could ask Reverend Lincoln if this is all my fault. Maybe I have done something wrong in the past, and God is punishing me, denying me children and making my husband turn against me.

That night, I go to bed without supper, apologising to Mrs Jones and telling her that I will eat what she made the next day. I don't cry this night, just thinking of my married life and my decisions. Maybe I should have accepted Christian's advances. After all, he did ask me for time about the children, and he has always made me feel good when we were intimate.

So maybe I am the one who is wrong and I should have accepted Christian in my bed. But … he has promised to respect my privacy and not come in my room uninvited. And I was certainly not going to invite him to my room with that sort of behaviour. For the first time in our marriage, Christian made me feel like I didn't matter to him. Even during our first time, he was sweet and careful. I don't like this Christian at all. And I will never see him again. I don't care if it makes me a bad wife. This isn't the Christian I fell in love with. The Christian who bruises my lips and my neck, who frightens me, who made me feel unimportant … this Christian will never be allowed in my bed.

So it's with that resolve that I get ready for church on Sunday. Since I haven't seen Christian all day yesterday and it seems that Mr Taylor disappeared with him, I will have to walk to church. I don't mind much, I just hope that when Christian will come back, we will be able to talk. This is what we agreed on, talking to each other, and I have a few things to say concerning what happened Friday night.

When I get to the dining room, he is sitting at his usual spot, looking beyond exhausted as he reads his newspapers. I move to my place without saying a word, and as I move my chair, he looks up but my eyes just found a necklace resting on a box on my plate. It's a beautiful diamond piece with a large central emerald that gives the necklace symmetry and colour.

I reach to gently touch it, wondering where Christian bought it. The only jeweller we have in town is Mr Cohen, and I doubt he has anything that fancy in his shop. Besides the Greys, very few people could afford something so refined and rich.

I look up, seeing the purple hyacinths* placed at the centre of the table as well, and I plant my eyes in Christian's, strongly letting him know, "What happened Friday is to never happen again."

Before I can even finish my sentence, Christian is on his feet, walking around the table so he can be by my side. He takes my head in his hands, making me look into his eyes, and I see a lot of pain reflecting in the silver of his orbs.

"Anastasia … what happened Friday was … It won't happen again, I can promise you that. I never should have treated you like that. As a man, as a gentleman or as a husband, this was … repulsive. Please, say that you forgive me for my lapse of judgement."

"Why did you act this way, Christian? I don't understand what happened to make you so … unsettling."

I see his Adam's apple go up and down before he lets go of me and pulls the chair for me to sit, silently telling me that the matter is closed. I watch him sit back in his seat, annoyed that he is refusing to converse with me as we agreed, and I put the necklace on the side so I can eat, reminding him,

"We promised to tell each other the things that bother us, Christian, no matter how it would make us feel. It was not even a week ago, and you're already failing on your word."

He glares at me, making me glad that we have a table to separate us. "You promised. I did not give my word for such a thing."

I look down, hurt that he is treating our agreement so lightly. I remember that he did not promise as I did, but … he was forthcoming after about a few things, so I thought he understood. I was obviously wrong.

I hear him sigh, and his voice is gentler when he speaks again, "I'm sorry, Anastasia. I shouldn't have said that. I … alcohol clouded my judgement and I … didn't appreciate coming home to my wife and a man in one of my guest room."

This time, it's my time to glare at him. How dare he insinuate anything when I have been more than forthcoming? I told him that Mr Sawyer was an employee, I told him that he could see the room now if he didn't want to wait for the surprise.

"You don't seem to mind having Dr Cassidy alone in my room when he comes to see me. And what about Mr Taylor? I told you Mr Sawyer is an employee, I told you he helped me redecorate the room, and I told you that I would understand if you wanted to see it now.

How can you even imply that … I am not Elena Lincoln, Christian. I have been nothing but loyal and faithful, and if this is your way to get back at me because I heard you moan in the office I knew a woman was in …" I take a deep breath and look down on my cup of tea,

"Well, you are not the gentleman I thought you were."

"I didn't accuse you of anything, Anastasia. I am just letting you know that I didn't like finding a man I have never met before in my house. I thought you were a proper lady."

"I thought you didn't want proper in our marriage," I counter because the only reason why I even reached to Mr Sawyer was because Christian always said I should be less proper in our marriage.

"What does that man have to do with our marriage?!" He roars, putting his fist on the table, and I calmly look at him.

"I told you, Christian, the room is yours to open when you want." Then I get up and let him know, "I understand now that surprises are not something you appreciate. I won't bother you with them anymore."

I go back to my room, admonishing myself. My mother often surprised my father with various things, and my father always appreciated the surprises. Whether it was a meal he really liked or a piece of clothing my mother made for him. But the two times I have tried to surprised Christian turned sour. He wasn't so pleased that I walked to his office when I came to visit him for lunch, and now this silly idea of a darkroom is turning against me.

Christian knocks on my door just a few minutes later, and I open the door. He is holding the flowers and the necklace, his eyes contrite. "I didn't mean to upset you, Anastasia. On the contrary, I was supposed to make you feel better today."

"It's alright, Christian. Thank you for the flowers and the necklace." I say, taking the flowers from his hands so I can put them on my bedside.

When I turn, Christian is waiting by the vanity and so I sit there so he can put the necklace on. I see him kneel behind me, his fingers tracing my collar as his eyes frown at our reflection, and then he sighs, closing his eyes,

"I have failed my word though. I promised to not mark you again, and obviously, you are hiding another bruise. I am sorry, Anastasia. For Friday night, for this morning. I … am desperate for your forgiveness."

He opens back his eyes and looks at me and I nod, overwhelmed by the emotions swimming in the grey of his eyes. He smiles and kisses my cheek before putting the necklace over my dress so we can see it displayed on me.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

It's during the service that life takes a whole other meaning to me. I am not sure what exactly triggered it. Maybe it's the fact that I talked about Dr Cassidy earlier, or maybe it's the fact that I haven't been feeling well lately, or maybe it was the reverend sermon.

The sermon is about self-forgiveness and hope. But it's not what triggered my happiness. It's his mention of Abram's wife, Sarai* that makes me think and smile with delight. As the Reverend keeps telling us about Sarai's and Abram's struggles, love and unexpected child, I find myself counting.

Dr Cassidy only came twice since I married Christian, and I have only bled twice. The week that followed our wedding, and the month after. And I have been feeling unwell and unrested lately. Has God decided to bless me with a child, no matter what my husband says? Christian can't say anything against His will. Maybe he didn't retrieve in time that one time, or maybe doctors are wrong, and the liquid that men produce has nothing to do with the making of children.

All I know is that I am pregnant and I have never been happier in my life. I discreetly place my hand on my stomach, wondering how long until we meet our baby before it dawns on me. Christian does not want children. He has been so meticulous doing his best not to get me pregnant. He is going to be so mad. He asked for time, but it seems we don't have time.

When the service is over, Christian greets a few of his acquaintances, as per usual, and the Reverend takes me in apparté when I give him his weekly cupcakes, "How are you doing, dear?"

"Very well. I have made the cupcakes with rhubarb since I know you like it so much."

He laughs and admits, "If I ever have to indulge in a sin, I am afraid it would be gluttony." Then he looks at me, his brows slightly furrowed before giving me his arms so he can walk me to the park. I glance around and see Christian looking at us as he is speaking with Mr Kavanagh, and he doesn't seem too happy by the prospect.

The Reverend doesn't appear to care and starts walking as he lets me know, "Christian came to me Friday night. I just want to make sure that you are fine, Ana."

"Oh." I blush a deep red. "Yes. It was just … It's nothing for you to worry about, Father."

"Ana … every single person in this city is for me to worry about, even those who don't believe. And though I am not supposed to have favourites, I am quite fond of you. I know that Christian felt terrible about what happened Friday, but what about you?"

I am sure that my face is as red as a tomato. This is very embarrassing. I know that the Reverend is my minister and spiritual guide, but … I never would have told him about Friday night. I hear him chuckle at me and he says,

"Ana … us men like to pretend that nothing affects us, but we, humans, are creatures of passions. It's what makes us special in the eyes of God. Our ability to speak, to think, to love. But that doesn't mean you have to accept your husband's passion. An act of love is only considered as such when both parties want it. Christian knows it, and I just want to make sure you know it as well."

I nod and Christian suddenly appears on my other side, politely nodding at the Reverend as he tells him that we will be going home. Reverend Lincoln thanks me for the cupcakes and tells me that he will see me at the orphanage.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

It's been two days since my discovery, and I still haven't told Christian. I wanted to make sure at first, but I don't really want to have Dr Cassidy osculating me if I can prevent it. And Leila is away again. I think Dr Cassidy is a bit unfair to her to make her travel all the time, but Leila says she likes it. She says most folks outside the city are her loyal patients, and the rare time they come to the city, they ask for her, not Dr Cassidy. They have gotten used to the idea of a medicine woman.

I asked Mrs Jones, and she said that she had her suspicions for a month now, but she didn't say anything because she thought it was something every mother should experience once, to discover you're expecting. She is very excited and said she cannot wait to see a new generation of Grey being born.

So I am relying on Mrs Jones' instincts and now, I am looking at my husband as we are having our dinner on Tuesday night. Mrs Jones has been making baked potatoes with chicken and broccoli and she insisted that I ate everything on my plate. She said that the baby needed me to eat more than I did before if I wanted it to be healthy.

Christian is telling me about his end of the year plans for the hospital. Every winter, he closes a wing at the hospital so the homeless can have somewhere to sleep. Usually, he asks the Reverend to oversee everything and he asks if I would be interested in helping since I like 'being charitable and good-hearted".

I accept, more than happy to help and spend more time with the Reverend and as Christian sips on his wine, I clear my throat and tell him, "I have some great news to share with you."

He smiles at me, giving me all his attention and I really hope that this will go well. The past few days have been great and I don't want to ruin that. I take a deep breath and announce with a smile, "I am with child."

Christian's first reaction is to smile with happiness before his face turns cold and frightening. His grey eyes turn icy as he enunciates his words, "It's not possible. I haven't been in your bed for over a month. I haven't … it's not possible."

"I've been missing my cycle and I have been unwell as of late. Mrs Jones agrees with me," I explain, doing my best to ignore the hurt that his hard eyes cause me.

But all of that is forgotten when the glass of wine breaks in his hand. Without thinking, I get up and rush to him, taking his hand in mine to remove the shards. But he snaps his hand away, glaring at me as he hisses, "Do not touch me, you whore!"

I stare at him, unsure if I heard him correctly, and he grabs my face with his injured hand, unknowingly planting glass in my jaw. I wince, but he doesn't care as he spits at me,

"You are very good. Keeping that facade of a proper little lady, so sweet and innocent when in reality you are nothing but a harlot. How many men did you bring in my house? How many men did you open your legs to? Or was it only Luke Sawyer?

Were you so desperate to have a child that you spread your legs to the first lowlife with a pretty face? You would rather have his bastard than take your husband to bed? How many men did you open those legs to whilst you denied me?"

"Christian, you're not making any sense. I have been with no one else but you, you know that," I tell him, trying to escape his grip. He looks at me with disgust and lets me go as he gets up,

"No. I know that you're a lying whore who will make me raise another man's bastard!"

He stands up and sprints to his office, slamming the door behind him. Tears keep flowing from my eyes, but I do my best to stay silent as I clean the mess of his broken glass.

Mrs Jones comes behind me and tells me that she will take care of it, and so I go to my room, crying my heart out. I have never experienced pure hatred in my life, even Elena who clearly dislikes me, she only has annoyance for me. But the way Christian looked at me as he accused me of … it was horrifying. Hate and disgust. He looked at me the same way one would look at vermin, and I will ever forget that.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

For the rest of the week, I don't see Christian. He leaves for work before I get up and goes straight to his office when he comes back from work. He has Mrs Jones bring his dinner to him and just leaves me alone. I tried to talk to him twice, knocking on his door, but twice he ignored me.

Mrs Jones had to force me to eat, though she had no comforting words as to why my husband suddenly decided to call me and our child names. I had her deliver an envelope with the key to the darkroom so Christian could see that there is nothing but love for him happening in this room, but nothing changes.

I spend a lot of time in our backyard, contemplating my life and my options. Maybe Christian will calm down and come back to his senses. But maybe he won't. And I have seen it back home, men being violent toward their children. Their own children. Jon's father would easily discipline Jon, whether it was deserved or not. And I don't want that for my child.

I want someone like Elliott who always smiles when he sees Ariana, who picks her up and kisses her cheek with love, who reads to her tales about sleeping princesses, and sultans falling in love. It seems that all that Christian has for our sweet little baby is hate and disgust.

Mindlessly, I caress my injured jaw. Mrs Jones wanted me to go to the hospital and have Dr Cassidy check the wound, but I refused. I don't want to have to explain how I got injured and make Christian hate me and the baby even more.

I wish Christian would just talk to me. Like we said we would. I wish he would listen to me. How can he accuse me of bringing men home when I have always been honest with him? I cannot make it any clearer that Mr Sawyer was only an employee.

Even before knowing Leila's inclinations, as soon as he explained to me what they were doing, I trusted him again. Why can't he repay the curtesy? I never laid with anyone but him. But then again, Christian doubted my virtue from the very first night. He never trusted me.

When the rain starts getting a bit heavier and I am wetter than I should be, I go back inside. As I make my way to my room, I meet Christian in the stairs for the first time since I told him about the baby. It's Saturday. I haven't seen my husband in four days, even though he was home. He went on his own to his brother's weekly dinner and he didn't knock on my door on Friday.

He glares at me and I reach for him, "Christian, talk to me. We said we would talk to each other."

"I have nothing to say to a whore like you. Talking to you is wasting my breath on something unworthy."

This hurts more than the shard of glass from Tuesday. "Christian, I told you, I have done nothing wrong. This baby is our ch—"

"Do not even dare say it! This is a bastard! It will never be my child. My child will never have a whore for a mother! Tell me, Anastasia? How many times did you open your legs for him, uh? You only take me to your bed once a week, but you have your legs wide open for that lowlife with no penny to his name every other day?"

I sob, shaking my head, trying to gather my thoughts. He tackles me against the balustrade, his face dark and menacing, "What about now? Would you spread your legs for me? Or do you only do that for men who are not married to you?"

"Christian, please."

"You're the worse mistake I have ever done," He lets me know with revulsion before letting me go. I put my hand on his shoulder, to force him to listen, but he swats my arm away,

"Don't touch me, you filth!"

I lose my balance and stumble down the stairs, hitting my head hard on the floor. Mrs Jones rushes to me, but I stand back up, shaking my head and swallowing my tears. I know what to expect from Christian now. He hasn't moved, frozen on his spot in the stairs, though his eyes are steady on me as he looks at me reaching for my head and stomach.

"Mrs Grey," Mrs Jones starts, but I shake my head.

"I am fine. I slipped. I should have paid more attention, knowing I was wet." I take the stairs back up, ignoring the ache in my ribs and as I pass Christian, I coldly tell him,

"Goodnight, Mr Grey."

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

💚 So, I was going to say don't hate me, but after the last chapter, I feel most people will find good reasoning behind Christian's behaviour.

💚 And yes, Ana clearly changed her tone with her husband. In fact, you can even tell what is her state of mind.

💚 And before people say she doesn't communicate. She tried time and time again. And she told him three times what was going on, and to just go to the room. Christian's ego got in the way, not Ana's communication abilities.

💚And something new, artists & flowers 💚

* Purple hyacinths are a symbol of sorrow and sometimes forgiveness. «I am sorry. Please forgive me.»

💚Well, let me know what you thought of this chapter. What was your favourite part? What do you think will happen next?

💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise. Everything else is mine.

Love, Mina💚💚💚