Anna helps Elsa to her feet, moving away only so she can turn off the television as she leads Elsa down the hallway to her bedroom.
Elsa winces, walking tenderly, and a quick glance confirms just how swollen her ankles are. Pregnancy is hitting hard, and yet she's still so beautiful. Anna blinks rapidly.
"When's your next appointment?" she asks as she helps lower Elsa onto the bed. She can see her swallow, but Elsa doesn't look at her. Anna steps back. It's clear to her: Elsa doesn't want her here.
She's fucked up.