Several weeks passed and Christine reveled in her progress. It felt like she'd just picked up where she'd left off. And, as much as she was loath to admit it, Erik was a wonderful teacher. She couldn't forget that he was a criminal and also kind of creepy, of course, but for a time, it was almost like it didn't matter.

Which, she was fully aware, was ridiculous. But she kept it to herself, and she didn't breathe a word to Nadir. She knew he would panic and beg her to stop going, and she would, because she didn't want him to worry. It was better to pretend like nothing had changed - and, besides, it didn't really affect them, did it?

So she told him she was taking music lessons - and of course he was delighted, which made her feel even more guilty - but not that they were from Erik. Instead, she said a retired professor from the university offered to teach her in exchange for helping out with her church choir.

She began to look forward to their weekly meetings. He was not easy to please by any means, but he was never cutting or cruel. He was specific -

("No, Christine, you're still not using your breath to its full advantage. Your ribs expand too, up and out - put your fists on your rib cage. Breathe. Deep. Feel that? That is the kind of breath you need when you sing. Now, do that again. Sing that phrase here, but breathe like that.")

He was exacting -

("You can't forget about your why, Christine. Why are you singing this piece? Your character, don't be so literal. You know what I meant. Tell me. Explain to me your purpose here. What are you trying to do?")

He was demanding -

("You can do that better. Don't give me that look. Don't - how do you do that with your eyes. Really, they get bigger, how is that possible - listen a moment. Please. I know you can do better. You aren't all here. So focus. I promise you, you will notice a difference.")

And yet that made the moments of praise all the more valuable. It was several weeks (almost two months) into their study when he really complimented her for the first time.

She managed to make her way through the entirety of the Jewel Song without him interrupting her. She tingled from head to foot. She knew she'd done well; she felt it deep inside. It was so effortless, it was right. She was sure.

She looked at Erik excitedly, expecting one of his rare smiles. But it didn't come. He was just looking at her.

"Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No. No." He ran a hand haphazardly through his hair. "That was beautiful."

Her cheeks warmed and she smiled at him."Thank you."

For the first time since she'd met him, his absolute control had slipped. He seemed flustered: he ran a hand haphazardly through his hair and though she couldn't be sure, she swore he was blushing under his mask.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Christine. Although I think we should end our lesson here for today. I can't imagine anything better happening."

Usually this was the signal for her to go, but she wasn't quite ready yet.

"Will you tell me something?"

He smiled. "That depends on what it is."

"Why do you wear that mask?"

He stiffened, looked at her, and then softened. "I'm afraid that would be one of the things I can't tell you. Well, perhaps I will someday," he amended a moment later. "But not now. Mine is not a happy story, Christine. It's not one I'd wish on anyone, but especially not you."

She stared him dead in the eye. "You think I haven't heard my share of terrible, tragic stories? Have you forgotten what I do?"

"Of course not. Of course not. I only - I only wanted to spare you this one." He rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "I'm not insulting you. It's just...something I'd rather to keep to myself for the time being."

She couldn't say anything for a long moment. He was touching her and it did weird things to her brain.

"Okay," she said at last, and he smiled.

"Thank you." He rubbed her collarbone ever so gently with his thumb.

"So, what can you tell me?"

He smiled a little. "Why so curious?"

She shrugged and his hand fell from her shoulder. "You know plenty about me, but I know hardly anything about you."

"What would you like to know?"

She fished for something simple, something not too invasive. She wanted him to trust her, after all. "How do you know all this stuff? I mean, do you have five or what?"

She'd never seen him smile this much in one lesson. "Ah, not exactly," he said. "I have a degree in vocal pedagogy, but that's my only one. Everything else is just...a hobby."

"So you're a serious hobbyist."

At this, he snorted quite loudly. "I don't think I've ever heard it put quite that way before."

"But am I wrong?"

"Not in the slightest," he said, sounding nearly gleeful.

She was tempted to stay, so tempted that when her phone buzzed with a text from Nadir, wondering when she'd be home, she almost told him she'd be a little longer. "I should go," she said after staring at her phone for a moment.

"Oh. Well. I'm sorry about that. I...I enjoy the time we spend together."

She looked up at him. Despite the mask, his face was heart-wrenchingly vulnerable.

"So do I," she said.


Expect chapter ten within the next twenty-four hours!