'Five years,' she thought, as her feet carried her to the opera house. So much had changed for five years...

Christine had been happy at first, Raoul doting on her at every moment, showering her with his gentle love. He would take her to any party she wanted to visit, he would buy her any jewellery or dress that caught her eye. One year after their wedding, she gave birth to a beautiful boy. Raoul was overjoyed. But soon after, she began suffocating in the big mansion, her heart no longer felt joy in her husband's gentle kisses and she drifted away, Raoul quietly and sadly accepting what he felt he could not change. They stopped being intimate, using the child as a cover for the real reason. Christine felt an intense longing for a change, for a life where she wasn't safely tucked under warm blankets, for a life of intense passion and wonder, for a life where she could sing her own song again. She longed for the man who had made her spirit soar. She felt trapped, unable to leave Raoul because of little Charles. So the young woman suffered patiently, her only comfort being her son's loving embraces and gentle smiles.

All that had changed a few weeks ago. Charles fell ill, his cold turning into fever too quickly for the doctors to help. He died with cries for his mother on his trembling lips and with him something inside Christine died too.

Back home a letter was waiting for Raoul, telling him not to look for her and asking for forgiveness. As she was walking towards the opera, her heart beat faster and faster, and the speed of her footsteps changed in tune with it. Was he still there? Could he forgive her? Was he still alive?

As she walked through the doors, people recognized her and greeted her warmly. The word of her arrival spread and soon she was surrounded by acquaintances and friends, Meg dashing to envelope her in a bone-crushing hug as soon as she knew her friend was back. Christine put a smile on her face as she greeted everyone, sure that they could hear the thunderous beating of her heart. Was he still there? Was he alive?

After a while people started to disperse, returning to their business. Christine used the opportunity and, grabbing Meg by the hand, hurried away, towards the dormitories, the blond girl's questions cut short by her intense inquiery:

'Meg, do you know who lives in my old room?'

'I do. Why?'

'I need to put some old ghosts to rest,' the woman replied with a bitter smile at her own choice of words.

'Christine... No one's seen him since the accident,' Meg gently put her hand on her friend's shoulder. 'He's probably left the opera.'

The young woman sighed deeply.

'We can't be certain... Meg, I need to see him.'

Her friend nodded sadly in quiet understanding. They proceeded through the dark corridors in silence. In front of the room Christine embraced Meg, then looked at her imploringly.

'I need to do this alone.'

'Christine...' the blond girl started but the heart-breaking look in her companion's eyes made the words die in her throat.

'I'll wait for you here.'

As the young woman stood in front of the big ornate mirror, she trembled and hesitated for a few seconds. Was he still alive? Was he there? She reached and pulled the mirror towards her, squeezing through the narrow slit.

'Oh, God...'

It was dark and cold, and she feared she wouldn't find her way in the tunnels. But her feet took her forward, almost independently of her brain, until she reached the lake. The barrier was up and Christine could see the boat on the other side. The woman remembered the water had only come as high as Raoul's hips when he had entered her angel's lair, so she stepped in, walking slowly at first, then faster and faster. Was he still alive? Was he there?

As she stepped into the cavernous room, Christine despaired, seeing that it was empty and in ruins. A sob escaped her lips, but as she went on forward, she saw the sheltered part where the big, intricately designed bed stood in its lonely glory. And inside lay a limp figure, a white mask covering the right half of his face.

Christine dashed forward, crying out unintelligible words of distress and grief. Her angel was pale and still, so still... He was dead!

She lay beside him, leaning her head on his bare chest, choking on her desolate sobs. Her warm tears rolled over the soft, cold skin.