My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 So, this story is dedicated to two particular authors with whom I have briefly touched on those issues, and who make amazing stories. paleseptember10 & Krooela. Go check them out, you won't regret it.

💚 Fallen Angel💚

How would have Christian Grey's life turned out if the Greys had intervened when Elena tried to sink her claws into him? Would he still be the same man as we know, or someone completely different ...

‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️

‼️Romance/Angst/Drama/Lemons‼️

‼️AS/CG/The Greys/The Steeles/Jack Hyde/Elena Lincoln‼️

💚 READ & REVIEW, DON'T BE A SILENT READER 💚

Chapter 60: A Trial of Faith (2,0K)

Christian's PoV

Morning creeps in, golden light stretching across the bed, but it does nothing to warm the space between us. Ana is still in my arms, but she feels distant, like she's already somewhere else.

I tighten my hold, just slightly, hoping she'll melt back into me like she always does. She always says I make her melt, so this should be good. But she doesn't melt. She stirs, sighing softly, then sits up without looking at me. The loss of her warmth is immediate, and I hate it.

"Morning, babe," I murmur, reaching to touch her again.

She makes a quiet sound in response—acknowledging me, but nothing more. No kiss, no soft smile, no melting. Just silence.

I watch as she slides out of bed, stretches, and disappears into the bathroom. There's no coldness in her movements, no anger. Just… distance. And somehow, that's worse.

I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face. It'll pass. She just needs time. She always comes back to me.

Right?

We each get ready for work, our conversation light, mundane—small talk about the weather, about her schedule for the day. But it's different. The rhythm of us is off, like a melody missing a beat.

When I leave her apartment, I glance at the gift I left for her on the table, still wrapped. She never opened it. But then again, I didn't open hers either.

She had set it out so beautifully for me, probably with excitement in her heart, dressed up for me at one in the morning, waiting. And I hadn't even thought to open it. I was too consumed with the possibility of my life falling apart, of Ana slipping through my fingers. She doesn't mention it, and neither do I.

She leans in for a kiss before she gets out of the car, but it's perfunctory, a reflex more than a feeling. She used to kiss me like I was air and she was drowning. Now? Now it's like I'm nothing more than land beneath her feet. Steady, solid, but no longer something she's desperate for.

I drive to work with that thought sitting heavy in my chest. I hate this idea of uncertainty.

The hours drag. I try to focus on contracts, figures, a meeting that should require my full attention. But my mind keeps drifting back to her. I glance at my phone between emails. No messages. No missed calls. Normally, she'd text something by now—a little heart, an update about her day, a teasing comment that makes me smirk at my desk like an idiot.

But there's nothing.

My office phone rings, sharp and jarring, pulling me out of my thoughts. I answer without looking.

"What?"

"Jesus, someone's in a mood," Elliot's voice comes through, amused. Of course, he is. He probably had a great Valentine's night.

"Not now, Elliot," I mutter, rubbing my temple.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "It's nothing. Ana's just… pissed." I guess that's the right word for it. Though disproportionate. We have many more Valentine's Days ahead where I'll always do my best to make it up to her.

Elliot snorts. "Yeah, no shit. You're an idiot."

My jaw tightens. Rich, coming from him. "Excuse me?"

"You should've told her, dumbass."

I straighten. How the fuck does he know?

"Did Ana say something?" My voice is sharper than I mean for it to be.

"Relax, she didn't run to Kate crying, if that's what you're asking. But I put two and two together. Gia's been talking, and your weird secretive behavior doesn't help. You do realize sneaking around with another woman looks bad, right?"

I grit my teeth. "It was a surprise."

"For what? A holiday that doesn't exist? A birthday that's months away?" He lets out a short laugh. "Come on, Christian. You had to know sneaking around with Gia would look bad. If Ana was spending late nights with some guy, you'd lose your damn mind. I'm a really secure guy, and I would still lose my mind if Kate pulled that shit on me."

I don't answer. Because I know that.

And I have my answer. Gia. She warned me about this, said if the roles were reversed, she'd be pissed too. But the whole point was to surprise Ana. Ana is too damn observant to be surprised if I give her just one clue—she'd figure it out instantly. Why is no one getting that?!

Elliot sighs. "Look, man, I know you love her. But love doesn't mean shit if you don't respect her enough to be upfront."

My fingers tighten around the phone. "I wasn't sneaking around, for fuck's sake."

"Did you tell her what you were doing?"

I don't answer.

"Exactly."

I grip the armrest of my chair. "It would've ruined the surprise."

"You know what really ruins surprises? Your girlfriend thinking you're screwing someone else," Elliot deadpans.

I exhale sharply. "She knows I wouldn't cheat."

"She knows that now. But what about last night? What about all those nights you came home late and refused to tell her where you were?"

I shut my eyes.

"You trust her, right?"

I snap my eyes open. "Of course I do."

"Then why does she have to play by different rules?"

The words cut deeper than I want to admit.

"I—"

"Don't bullshit me, man. You would've lost your shit if Ana was sneaking off with some guy she used to have a crush on."

Something cold settles in my stomach. A crush.

How does she know about that?

I sit up straighter. "What do you mean by used to have a crush on?"

Elliot hesitates, then sighs. "Mia told Ana. About you and Gia. I mean, we all knew that if it hadn't been for your touch issues, you guys would have fucked for sure. And now that Ana has fixed your issues, you disappear several times a week to spend time with Gia. How is that not suspicious?"

The realization slams into me like a punch to the gut.

Ana knew. The whole time. And she never threw it in my face, never accused me, never even brought it up. She never did what I would have done. What I did every time José's name was mentioned. She took the high road. But she knew.

And that's why she's hurt. Not because of the dancing. Not even because of Gia.

Because if the roles were reversed, I would have burned the world down trying to get answers.

Elliot exhales. "Fix it, Christian. Before you break something you can't put back together."

I sit there long after the call ends, phone still pressed to my ear. I know what I have to do. I have to make this right. No matter what.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

By the time I get home, the apartment is empty. Too empty. I tell myself she's just running late. That she'll walk through the door any second, shake off whatever's weighing on her, and everything will be fine. She always comes back to me. She always forgives me.

But as the minutes stretch into hours, that hope starts to unravel, thread by fragile thread.

I check my phone—no messages. I pace. I pour myself a glass of water, but it doesn't taste right. It doesn't settle the gnawing feeling in my gut. By the time I finally cave and call her, my hand is unsteady.

She picks up after two rings. "Hello?"

The relief that floods through me is instant, but so is the unease. Her voice is quiet. Careful. Like she already knows where this conversation is headed.

"Where are you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"At home," she says simply.

My brows knit together. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Ana," I say tightly, gripping the phone, "we've been staying at my place since Thanksgiving. Why now? Why go back?"

Silence. A thick, heavy pause stretches between us.

Then, quietly, she says, "Because I needed to."

A slow, sinking feeling spreads through my chest.

I exhale through my nose. "Because you always kept it as a backup, right? Just in case?"

More silence. And that silence is worse than any shouted argument. Worse than any angry words she could throw at me. Because it confirms the one thing I can't stomach: that she's pulling away. That she's already halfway gone.

"Jesus, Ana," I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. "You're proving me right."

She lets out a sharp breath. "I don't owe you an explanation, Christian. I am free to do as I wish last I checked."

No hesitation. No warmth.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Yes," I say, voice low. "But you owe me honesty."

She laughs, but it's hollow. Empty. "Honesty? That's rich, coming from you."

My stomach twists. "Ana—"

"You still don't get it, do you?" she cuts in, her voice heavy with frustration. "It's not about the surprise, Christian. It's about the secrecy. It's about who you did it with. And the fact that you still can't admit that if the roles were reversed, you'd be furious."

I clench my jaw. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"You don't think it's wrong because it's you doing it," she snaps. "If I spent nights with a guy I used to have a crush on, you would've lost your damn mind."

I don't have a defense. Because she's right.

"And what makes this worse," she continues, voice softer now, "is that you expect me to be the one to fold. When you're the one who messed up."

My throat tightens. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. I saw how happy you were when you danced with my dad… at your birthday… every time you dance. I just wanted to do that one thing for you."

She exhales slowly. "I know." A pause. "But that doesn't change the fact that you hurt me."

Guilt seeps into my bones, heavier than I know how to carry.

"I'm going to bed," she says, her voice weary. "Goodnight, Christian."

The call disconnects, leaving me alone in the quiet. Nothing is worse than hurting her.

I set my phone down, pressing my fingers against my temples. I don't know how to fix this. All I know is that I have to. And soon. Before she stops waiting for me to.

It's past midnight when I finally decide. I grab my coat and keys, barely thinking before I'm out the door, in the car, driving through the city. The roads are nearly empty, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows across the asphalt. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

I should've handled this differently. I should've told her from the start.

By the time I reach her building, my pulse is hammering in my throat. I don't hesitate. I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding harder with every step.

I knock once. Twice.

Then, finally, the door cracks open. And there she is.

. Beautiful.

"Christian?" Her voice is soft, laced with confusion.

I exhale sharply, my chest tight. "I'm sorry."

She blinks. "What?"

"I should've told you. From the start. I shouldn't have let it get to this point. And I definitely shouldn't have expected you to be the one to make things right. I shouldn't have asked my childhood crush to help me set up something so intimate for us. It was wrong and disrespectful." I swallow hard. "I was wrong. And I hate that I hurt you."

Her lips part slightly, but she doesn't say anything.

I take a breath, my voice quieter now. "Please, just… let me come in. Let me talk to you. Really talk to you."

A long pause stretches between us, thick with uncertainty, her gaze searching mine, looking for something.

Then, finally—finally—she steps aside.

Hope flickers to life in my chest as I step inside, determined to do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.

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.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

💚 So ... finally he sees what he did wrong. He truly does. And Ana seems to accept his apology ...

💚 But what did you think?

💚 And don't forget, the first two books of From Duty to Love are out now! It would mean the world to me if you could check them out and support my journey. 💖

💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise, Everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors).

Love, Mina 💚💚💚