Cristina stood in the doorway of her newly purchased and empty two bedroom home and slid her hand over her growing belly and bit her lip.
It was quaint.
Something small enough for a family of two, but large enough at the same time that a rambunctious little boy wouldn't feel trapped in four walls when it was too rainy to play outside.
Her heart ached as she knew that soon, everybody would be moving her things to this house, and she would have to turn over the key to their apartment for somebody else to move into.
To violate.
She tried to push the thoughts from her head as she wandered the house, looking at it with longing eyes, wishing that she could love it as much as she would if he were here with her.
Giving up the apartment was a huge step for her, but with the nearing due date of the baby, she couldn't live in a one bedroom apartment much longer.
She stepped into the smaller of the two bedrooms and she tried to picture herself, rocking and soothing their son to sleep, playing with him as a toddler, tucking him in before his first night of school, but all the images that flashed through her mind had him in them too and she sighed, leaving the room.
Why couldn't she just forget him?
Callie Torres pushed open the door to the house and stepped in, finding Cristina standing aimlessly in the living room and she forced a smile to her lips, "It's a nice house."
"Yeah." Cristina replied absently.
Callie picked up a box full of surgical journals and brought them in the door watching her closely, afraid to ask her where to put them, afraid that somehow she might say something to shatter her.
It was disheartening to her in a way to see such a strong and resilient woman so broken and fragile, and she saw in Cristina what could happen to her if she was to ever form such a strong attachment to George.
If he would ever stick.
She sat the box on the ground and crossed to her quietly, resting her hand on her arm, "The guys are coming in with all of the heavy stuff, but we didn't know what you wanted to do with...with..."
Burke's stuff. It shouldn't be that hard to say.
It had been almost six months, and she still had all of his clothes, his cologne, his razor, everything.
She couldn't bring herself to get rid of it.
"They can put it in the attic." Cristina finished the sentence for her, looking away, "I don't really need it in my room, since he's not here."
Callie nodded, swallowing hard, and walked away from her to gather more boxes from the moving truck and bring them in, leaving her to try to make sense of it all on her own.
She watched her quietly from the doorway before stepping out, wondering if the strong Cristina that everybody knew and loved, but hated at the same time would ever come back to them.
If the cold and complacent, and clinical Cristina Yang that existed before Burke would make an appearance.
Callie walked from the door knowing that it was too much to hope for, to see either one of those women again, to see the strong Cristina Yang that everybody knew ever again.
Because she died six months ago.