Disclaimer: I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera", Gaston Leroux does.
"The Louis Philippe Room"
The Louis Philippe room was the most empty of the house, he thought, running his fingers over the fine lace of the bedclothes. Her delicate perfume still lingered, and he could have sworn that he smelled it in every room of the house. He lit a candle near the bed and sat in one of the fine wing-backed chairs he provided her so she could read in the comfort of her own sanctuary. This was something he'd never done before, stepping foot inside the room he gave to Christine and Christine alone. It felt awkward in a sense. He had been in here, of course, to place furniture and decorate in a fashion that he knew suited her perfectly… but since she had taken his offer and stayed here, he'd never been so bold as to occupy it in any way at all. He made sure their marriage was honest, and that he'd remain a gentlemen for the rest of their lives…
He stared, longing to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, combing out her long curls serenely; a peaceful smile upon her innocent pink lips. She was truly his Angel, and he was left alone without her… broken… miserable… cursed into solitude.
The candlelight reflected off of the simple gold band he wore on his finger, a token of what he and Christine truly had. He wondered, if at this moment, she was wearing the ring that he bought her. He knew that the plain gold band was not enough for someone of such magnificence, so he had an elegant diamond fastened to it, in the shape of a small tear. A tear that he had cried for her, the night that she had left him and a tear she had cried for him, looking upon his abominable face.
Sorrowful tears rolled down his cheek, falling onto the cloth of the chair, staining it. Was his loneliness to plague him forever…?
Just as he stood to leave the room that caused him unfathomable amounts of pain, he heard a soft humming coming from another part of the house. It sounded remarkably like "The Jewel Song", sung in absolute heavenly perfection. He stood, seemingly fixed to the floor, unable to move. His eyes widened, and the beautiful noise drifted down the hallway, the soft gentle notes hitting his soul like a great strike of immaculate lightening.
The door to the Louis Philippe room opened, and there stood Christine. She smiled at Erik softly, and then at the sight of his weeping, her expression became worried.
"Why are you crying?" She asked gently, taking out her handkerchief and patting at his cheeks, "I told you that I would be gone only an hour for Mass, darling."
Erik kissed Christine's forehead and led her out of the room.
"Will you sing for me?" He asked, shutting the door behind them.
