When the curtain rose, everything changed.
Raoul knew without a moment's doubt that he had lost the bet. There she was, singing on the stage without a moment's hesitation or glance toward him. Very well, then; let the Phantom keep her, if that was what they both desired. Let them keep Gustave, the child he had always mistreated. He turned away, not with anger or jealousy, but with regret for what might have been.
In his despair, Raoul had already started walking away when he realized the song she was singing was from La boheme. Even at the height of his arrogance, the Phantom never claimed to have written Puccini's operas. What was Christine doing? Was she trying to find a way to make both her husband and her lover lose their bet? It would serve the both of them right, Raoul acknowledged wryly. The bet had been a cruel usage of her- but why was the orchestra going along with her choice of song?
Christine was stunningly beautiful on stage, the loveliest he had seen her in a long time. The difference was subtle, but undeniable- she was actually happy. How long had it been since he saw a genuine smile on her face? The sight was mad, but he didn't want it to end. He had once sworn to make her happy, to devote his life to making her smile; it seemed ages ago, but somehow, someone or something had done the job for him. He squinted into the darkness across the stage, but no sign of the Phantom lurked in the wing. He could have gone anywhere, though; in a theater of his design, there would naturally be secret passages unseen to the normal human eye.
His theater. Now that he looked more closely, the theater didn't resemble what he'd seen only a moment ago. Even the audience didn't look like a Coney Island vaudeville crowd, but for all the world as if they had dressed in their finest and gone to see an opera. By the time Christine finished her aria and exited the stage to massive applause, Raoul was in such a haze of confusion that he thought nothing could surprise him.
When his wife kissed him passionately backstage, he found that he'd been wrong.
"Oh Raoul! They loved it! I know we've had good luck with gala performances in the past, but here at the Metropolitan! I felt so nervous."
She threw her arms around him, almost knocking him over with the force of her embrace.
"They shouldn't have let you watch from the wings, but I'm glad they did. You always did say that boxes didn't allow you a good enough view of your wife!"
Raoul opened his mouth in mute astonishment. There was nothing he could say in response, nothing at all.
"Darling? Are you quite yourself tonight?"
"No," he managed. "I don't think I am..."