Christine

Raoul wouldn't look at me, and I didn't blame him. He simply kept his arm around me, guiding me, taking each step one at a time. I could have cried with thankfulness at his silence. He didn't question me, or burn me with accusing looks, as he should have.

Raoul really loved me.

Ayesha struggled to get out of my arms, but I held tight. She was probably more confused than I was. I stroked her gently. She eventually stopped bothering me, and lay still in my arms, purring to me occasionally, or hissing if Raoul came too close. She was the only thing of Erik I had left.

The days flew by quickly. I dragged through them all, and I said not one word, not to anybody. My things were moved to Raoul's chateau, and everything was hushed up. I was accepted to be in a state of shock, and left alone. I steadily ignored Raoul for three days, until I realized that I was doing everything wrong. What would Erik have said, with me sulking around and acting so rude to the man who had crushed many rumors about me and taken me into his house? As if I had not caused enough damage with my decisions, I was continuing to act poor to those who had been there for me.

I finally gathered my courage one afternoon, knocking hesitantly on his study door.

"Enter," he called.

I pushed the door open carefully, and I saw his face spread with relief at the sight of me. For some reason, I could not hold back the rush of guilty feelings at this look. "Raoul, I need to talk to you," I muttered, twisting my hands together.

He was on his feet instantly, stopping in front of me and taking both of my hands. He had been so understanding, giving me my privacy these past days, and I hoped he could see the gratitude I could not put into words in my eyes instead. I had been broken, and he did not force me together, but let me mend myself, and I was eternally grateful. I owed him so much more than what I had been giving him.

But I could find no way to say that.

A few seconds passed, and he said, "Christine?"

This was by far, the most awkward situation in my entire life, and although Raoul already knew, I had to tell him. It seemed pointless to beat around the bush when I was sure, this last confession was what he had been waiting for.

"I married Erik."

He nodded slowly, squeezing my hands. I was too ashamed to look into his eyes, and I shook my head bitterly. "I married a dying man, to appease his last wish." Those words stung, but I finally looked up into his eyes and pleaded, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Raoul let out a long breath. "There is nothing to forgive, my dear." I winced. Raoul had never called me that before… That was what Erik used to call me.

He didn't seem to notice my sudden discomfort, but pressed on. It seems he had memorized his speech as I had memorized mine. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you that was so very wrong on my part. I shouldn't have, no man should ever yell like that to the woman he hopes to take as his wife—and I know I promised to take you back there—but—but I was so scared, you have to imagine. And I don't want you to think I'm not a man of my word, because I most certainly am, but just try to understand my position—"

"I understand." I interrupted, placing my fingers in front of his lips—but not touching. "I understand. Now it's your understanding I ask for."

"Christine—"

"Raoul?"

He swallowed. "I love you. Nothing you could do, nothing you could tell me would ever change that. I'm just worried—" He paused and his grip on my hands tightened. "Will you still want to marry me?"

I pressed back tears as I had been doing, and pulled my hands away. "Oh, Raoul." I whispered. ""Would you still have me?"

"Oh, dear Christine—" he said, and leaned forward as if to kiss me. But all I could feel was the last lips on mine, and I tore myself away and fled to my room, with dry sobs.

.

Oh, Erik.

Why did you leave me, Erik? When I came to my senses at last, knowing I loved you, why did you desert me? I think I loved you more than life itself, and I just wanted you to know that. But most of all, I want you to know that I came back out of love—not because of Raoul or any promises.

Nadir told me that you thought I wouldn't return. Did you really think me that heartless, Erik? When I kissed you, did you feel my heart? When I married you, did you feel my heart? When I gave myself to you, forever, did you feel my heart? Even when you threatened me with Raoul's life, I was able to kiss you and forget about him. Isn't that awful to say? I felt complete with you, and I know you did too.

Didn't you know that? Couldn't you have felt that, even then?

I wanted to shed no tears for you, Erik, just as you wished.

Even minutes ago, in Raoul's study, all I could think of was you. I know, there are plenty of people who lose their spouse and go on to marry again, have children, and live their life. But I really don't know if I can do that, Erik. You were too much to me. I depended on you. I needed you. But now you are gone. It is not as though you were just my husband. We know that was only a title given to represent a moment. You were everything to me. And I was your world.

Oh! It's all my fault, isn't it? If I had not hurt you so much in the first place, you would not have been so broken and you might have lived! We could have had months, maybe years together. Just you and me, Erik. Just us and our music.

What I wouldn't give to see you again, Erik. I fantasize about you walking through my door and sweeping my off my feet to take me away. I'm terribly dramatic, I know. Just one day with you. One hour. Once second!

So much I should have asked you. So much we had to talk about. To explain. I wish I could have heard about your life. I wish I could have heard so much more from you than I ever bothered to ask.

I love you. I unfortunately think that I always have, and I always will.

But I guess now you really are my angel.

.

Erik

The nights are endless.

How I wish I could love the sun, but I cannot. It's only night when I feel I can truly shine. Which, really, is perfectly fine by me? It's eternally nighttime for me in Nadir's little flat. I chose the smallest room he offered me, the one with no windows.

It's scarcely larger than a closet, I must say. In it, there is a small, leather couch, where I sleep when I care to, and a dark, wooden desk. I have a job; a job where I write suggestions on how to construct this, or how to design that, and in return I receive a hefty salary when I mail it to them. My pen name changes constantly, as I pretend to be different people; and as much as they look for me, they will never find me.

I decided to give Nadir about half of my paycheck. It's not as though I needed the money for anything, I just worked for something to do. I had a rapidly growing sack of it in my closet that was being wasted on nothing. I kept getting richer and richer as I wrote more and more building plans to keep my mind off… other things. My successes depressed me. I had thought I was close to death. I had thought I was simply wasting time before time ran out. Every day I do not die is a shame.

Besides, Nadir deserves the money. He doesn't have an abundance of it, and I know he enjoys fine things. Nosy, annoying, and demanding, I suppose I grudgingly consider him as a friend. He tries to help me… tries to make me happy…

Happy…?

I have been happy once…

Oh…

I have my violin here with me. Day after day, night after night, I play. I play until my arm is exhausted and my fingers are sore.

Sometimes Nadir comes to my door and listens, thinking he is being sneaky and master of stealth; perhaps he forgets exactly who it is he is spying on. He hums along sometimes, if he recognizes the tune, but he was never much of a singer.

Singer?

A beautiful, beautiful singer.

Christine…?

It has been a month since I held her one, last time.

Her name sends a flash of lightning down my chest so suddenly, I cannot breathe. I cannot live, or think… My arms want to reach out and crush her to me, but there is no one there, and I am fumbling in the dark. I reach, I pray, hoping, wishing..

But I won't.

I won't condemn her to a life of hell! I won't condemn her to a life with me! I must be stronger than that. If I love her, I can be strong.

I must stop. When she is not in my soul, calling me, enticing me with her song, I can breathe. The hole in my chest does not hurt so much. The tears do not fall.

I am a miserable excuse for someone who does not have a heart! I sob, I cry, I moan like everyone else, until I can find my violin, where I can lose myself until I find my drugs so I can find dreamless sleep… until I wake up tomorrow, furiously scrawling out notes and blueprints, driven half-insane by the name which I guard from my mind, from my lips…

As you can see, the nights are endless.

Nadir

As I passed the kitchen on my way out the door after hearing one of Erik's more depressing concertos, I noticed a new newspaper Daruis must have brought in. I sighed and picked it up to throw it away. The headline caught my attention.

Viscount de Chagny Postpones Engagement

I crumpled it up quickly and threw it in the trash before Erik could see.

.