Prologue
"Life is funny," she said quietly, her brown eyes downcast.
"What?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I mean, it's not 'HaHa' funny, but... odd... ironic," she replied, washing the dirty plate in her hands with a little more force.
"Dare I ask what brought on these depressing thoughts?"
"I was thinking about our arrangement. How it started." She glanced at him briefly. "How it's ending." She rinsed the clean plate and set it on a towel on the counter.
"... I see."
"I don't think you do."
"I await your inevitable elaboration with bated breath." He muttered sarcastically.
She took a deep breath. "Well," she said, "it was never quite as horrible as you let on, and I shall be sorry to see this chapter of my life close. That's all."
"Is it really?" He asked, his face inscrutable.
"... Yes." She picked up a steak knife in her shaking hands and scrubbed at it furiously.
"Very well." He placed a thin stack of papers on the tile of the kitchen island that kept a safe distance between them. "Sign these and I'll be off."
"A-alright." She replied, then let out a pained cry as the knife she'd been cleaning took a mean stab at her palm. She dropped the knife and it clattered noisily into the metal sink.
"Why are your hands shaking?" He asked frustratedly, coming around the island and pressing a clean dry cloth napkin over the wound. "The lawyer will never accept the signature if he can't tell it's yours!"
"I'm fine!" She shouted, tears gathering in her eyes from pain and something else. "Leave me alone, will you!"
He let out a sharp breath and procured a pen from the breast pocket of his suit, setting it on the counter by the papers, and released her hand. She recomposed herself and examined her palm. It was only a flesh wound. She replaced the napkin and applied pressure.
"How can you be so calm?" She asked. He knew she wasn't talking about the knife incident.
"No sense in being upset. We both knew what we were getting into from the start. Now sign the damn papers!"
"Did we? Did we really know what we were getting into."
"..."
"I don't know if I did."
"... I don't know what you want me to say."
"Do you regret... marrying me?"
"..."
"Please answer me, you know I can't stand it when you're quiet."
"No."
"No what?"
"No, I don't regret marrying you."
"Then why do this?"
"This is the deal. Our bargain; it's over. You're Christine and I am the Phantom, and our six months is up. It was... acceptable, while it lasted. That's all."
"Is it really?"
He paused, his eyes burning into hers, their faces so close they were almost touching. She read the answer in his eyes before he even opened his mouth to reply.