In total, Raoul and Christine spent a month away from Paris. His parent's were delighted that they were to be married; they had, after all, been childhood sweethearts. After spending so much time in the country Christine quickly realised that this is what her life with Raoul would be, peaceful and harmonious with nothing sinister to trouble her mind. She would be well loved, not just by Raoul, but by the servants and his parent's too. As the carriage speed past the rippling valleys Christine felt content, safe in the knowledge that with Raoul she would always have a home. He would always take care of her.

"I think they approve," Raoul chuckled, moving from his side of the carriage to hers. She smiled, looking radiant after her time in the country; she wasn't as pale and slender as she had been, and the soft peach gown she was wearing showed off her darker complexion.

"Christine you are so beautiful, sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve you. You look so much better than you did."

"I feel it," she yawned, stretching out and resting her head on Raoul's shoulder. "Raoul, your parent's make me feel so welcome."

"They look on you as daughter, Little Lottie…"He paused, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it before continuing, "And they look forward to the day, just as I do, when that may become official."

She blushed, as she always did when she was close to him; recoiling and becoming coy. He turned her face towards his and kissed her gently, but she pulled away too quickly, turning scarlet.

"So shy, Little Lottie?" he mused, squeezing her hand before moving to his side of the carriage. She laughed, but her smile disappeared rapidly as, on the horizon, she could make out the silhouetted shapes of the graveyard; black crosses and angels against the dying sky. She shuddered, half holding her breath as they passed, remembering the times she had spent so lost and helpless…

"Help me say goodbye," she whispered. He smiled to her and she smiled back, concealing beneath the feeling that she had left behind in Paris. As the city approached Christine leant back against the panelled door and closed her eyes, the images returning to her. She had been away forever it had seemed, and the dreams had left her. But now, as she felt the stabbing in her heart returning she knew that she would never be able to sleep in Paris as long as she was near him. As long as she knew he was there she would be enslaved…and she wanted to be free. She longed to be free.

"I must end this," she thought to herself, glancing at Raoul across the carriage. "I must end this for good"

Help me say goodbye.

Raoul knew, as people who truly love, that something was different, something inside her had changed. Again and again the words niggled in the back of his mind and yet he tried to ignore it, refusing to accept the true cause of such a transformation in Christine. Nothing on earth could make Christine not eat, not sleep, become irrational and whimsical…except one man.

He had thought it all over; that they had left their problems far behind them when he had spirited her away to the Chateau. Yet now they way back and he could see through the mask she was wearing. Something inside her was changing. He saw it more each day, as he watched her go through the motions but not really living; not really being there. Ever since she had returned to the Opera Populaire things had got worse. She had seen him, he had spoken to her and now she was spiralling out of control and into the darkness.

"Are we to be forever haunted?" he shouted at the sky, unable to remain quiet any longer. He watched Christine turn and look up to him, standing on the balcony, observing her walk. Her smile seemed to suggest that she hadn't heard him but her eyes, so full of melancholy, told a different story. He tried to kiss her, and now she pulled away, more reluctant than she had ever been. Her smiles were all warmth but her eyes were so cold; forever looking just past him…searching for something else.

How had he bewitched his Little Lottie all over again; she had told him that he had told her to leave and she believed him. What was it that drew her to him; this cold, ruthless monster? How was it that she saw something in him that no-one else could? If she wasn't happy now, why hadn't she chosen him?

"This is ridiculous!" Raoul cursed himself for doubting his precious Christine. She was innocent, so naïve; she couldn't possibly understand such things. She told him that she did not think of the Phantom consciously, that she didn't purposefully set out to go to him and he believed her…and yet, constantly, at the back of it all there was doubt. He had been there on the opening night of Don Juan. He had seen it acted out on stage for the entire world to see. He had touched her and she had responded. They had sung together, their voices unable to disguise the fires that lie beneath. He had been so dominant…he had commanded and Christine had obeyed. In her eyes Raoul had seen the desire; in her voice he had heard the longing. Through the tears that sprung to his eyes he had realised, just as he did now that it was not just the Phantom that was infatuated…it was not just he who was obsessed…

For days Christine had been in turmoil, unable to tell Raoul the truth yet longing to be honest. But if I can't be honest with Raoul, at least I can be honest with him…my angel. Christine sat at her desk, watching the black ink loop across the page as the words spilt out as if she were not writing them. After she head finished, and had dusted the damp ink with powder she sat back to read the note.

"Please do not attempt to contact me. I can never see you again. Raoul knows nothing of that night; I do this for myself and myself alone. I cannot live in your shadow any longer. Please, if you love me as you say you do, you will respect my wishes.

Yours truly,

Christine"

She rang the bell and gave instructions, but as the footman turned to leave her stomach lurched. Feeling dizzy she sat back down, watching from the window as the messenger set off with her note. She had done the right thing. For the first time in a long time, she could be sure that she had done the right thing. No more nightmares, she thought to herself; no more lies. She would love Raoul and honour him, as any good wife should. She could never indulge her fantasies with her angel again. She would never be able to sing; her voice was something which had to be lost with her angel of music. But it was a sacrifice she had to make. She couldn't loose her mind as well as her soul.