April 14, 1874

Dear Diary,

I know that Raoul is supposed to be all nice and lovey, but recently, I've been seeing him as a show-off and a fop. At a dinner party, this very evening, he decided to entertain our dinner guests — even the esteemed Comte de Muscat! — with the story of how we met. He then twisted the story so viciously to make me seem like a helpless child while he's a knight in shining armour!

In the middle of the meal, Raoul stood up, lifted his glass, and cleared his throat. The guests' attention turned to him.

"Christine, do you remember the day we met?" Raoul asked, in an over-dramatic stage voice, as if this was a Vaudeville act.

"It is quite hard to forget, Raoul," I said, trying not to roll my eyes.

"The day was stormy," he began, luring people into the heroic tale, "and my Little Lotte escapes from her seaside cabin to take a stroll on the beach." He paused for a moment to let the image sink in.

"Then! A harsh, unforgiving ocean wind plucks the poor girl's new red shawl clean off her delicate shoulders and carries it out to the crashing and dangerous sea." There was another pause; this will be a long story. I took the pause as a chance to glance at our esteemed guests; they were completely taken in by Raoul's tall tale.

"I happen to come upon this young maiden, collapsed and weeping on the cold sand. 'My shawl, my shawl!' she cries." A twitter of laughter ruffled through our guests, either from Raoul's interpretation of me, or from my assumed patheticness. I lowered my eyes and blush, as I was expected to do.

"So, I immediately jump into the raging waves and swim towards the shawl, it floating farther and farther away into nothingness." A dramatic pause. "I am quickly losing strength, but I must keep going! The shawl seems to be getting closer and closer! I wrap my fingers around it, and then all fades to black..." I heard a guest gasp — perhaps it was the Duchess Armande du Maurier? Raoul laughed somewhat good-natured, as if he had been expecting more of a reaction. "Ah, miss, do not fear. I still am here, aren't I?" he said. There was another laugh. Were these clueless people reading from a script?!

"When I finally awoke, I was in a small cabin, violin music resonating from every corner of the cabin, and the crying girl was looking over me. Her beautiful brown eyes lit up, and then promptly filled with tears. 'O, Father! He is alive!' she exclaims. The violin stops, and who walked intro the room, but Gustave Daae, the famous Swedish violinist!" The guests applauded! Mon Dieu, did these people not know that they were being strung along?!

"That, my friends, is how I met my one and only love, my Little Lotte, my angel..." He winked at me! "Christine Daae." More applause. If I were any lower in my chair, I'd slide right under the table.

The evening dragged on, with high-class food and dry stories about fortunes made and lost. Finally, our last guests leave. Now I could speak freely.

"Raoul, love, do you recall the day we met?" I inquired.

"Of course I do, Christine, dear! Our guests seemed to have enjoyed it very much!" He laughed and slid his arm around my waist. I recoiled.

"Then I must have met you on a different day than when you met me. For I remember a bright, lovely day and a calm, beautiful sea. Oh, yes, I also remember a horrid little boy who kicked sand into my face, stole my shawl, and then threw it into the ocean." Raoul looked appalled, but I couldn't stop. "I also recall that the 'daring rescue' occurred only because my father saw the whole thing and made a certain Vicomte retrieve it."

With that, I stomped up the stairs and locked our bedroom door. Raoul just stood there, looking completely dumbstruck. I don't care. He can sleep on the couch. It's times like these that I wonder why I ever left the Phantom!

Christine

A/N: This was an assignment for my Musical Theatre class. One of the choices was to write about how Raoul and Christine met. So, this was spawned. I hope you enjoyed it just a little bit. And yes, this was a one-shot. I don't think I'm ready to start writing another (non)continuing fanfic yet. That's all. Byes.