Anna's sent home early, the weight of the last few weeks finally catching up to her, crushing her.
By the time she thinks to call Kristoff, she's drunk and surrounded by tissues, her face puffy and red.
When Elsa gets home from... wherever she goes... Anna's openly sobbing. The pain of the slap has faded, and the only one she can really think about is the memories.
Because she's not a whore. Hans was the first – the only – man she ever slept with. He knew that. She knows that.
So why does it hurt so much?