She waits with bated breath against the bathroom wall. Elsa doesn't know what to expect of the next few hours – of Hans' reaction – and she tugs uncertainly at the sheer material atop her skin. It's been a while – too long, Hans would (will) say – since they had last been... intimate.
She told him she wouldn't be home. She lied, naturally. Her therapist only smiled at the news (though tentative), and Elsa stopped by the chemist to verify.
She hears the front door open and bites her lip. Steps silently from the bathroom.
Then, she can't breathe.