He bought a box.
Christine called him ridiculous. "I am only in the chorus, Erik," she had reminded him.
"I know that," he argued. "But it doesn't matter - chorus, Prima Donna or even just a member of the ballet I would not miss my wife's performance."
And though she called him ridiculous she had smiled sweetly when he told her. Say what she may she was glad to have him there.
Christine found herself busy, attending rehearsals six days a week, often finding her attendance was required from early in the morning until late in the evening.
Erik missed her, of course, having grown used to her constant company but he did his best to fill his days, reading his way through what equated to a small library of books, picking up his drawing again. And on the days that the silence of the apartment grew too oppressive he would make his way to the church, filling the empty hours with music and the good Father's company.
They spent as much time together in the evenings as they could, and on the rare occasion that Christine had a few hours of break she would make her way home and lunch with him. And though her attendance at Wednesday services had become impossible, she still accompanied him every Sunday, filling the back pew that had seemed to grow so empty on Wednesdays.
And she was happy. When he missed her most he reminded himself of that - she was finally happy. And so he never mentioned his loneliness to her having spent so long trying to help her find happiness. Even her exhausted smiles were radiant, and each one made him remember why exactly he was willing to be apart from her for so long.
She attempted to give him her first paycheck and he couldn't help but to laugh at her.
"That is your money, Christine," he said calmly. "To do with as you wish - you earned it."
She bit at her lip. "But you've spent so much on me," she argued. "What is the harm in combining our funds?"
"I am your husband," he reminded her, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. "And it is my job to support you, I want to support you. Besides, now that you have your own pay I will save so much on dresses that it will even out."
She had huffed at him. "You are ridiculous."
He would simply smile, kiss her and agree.
Her performances fell on the evenings and he never missed a single one. He was always sure to be in his box, even though he hated the current Prima Donna, though he had to admit that it was most likely due to the fact that it was not his wife and not so much about any talent she may or may not possess. And while he attended her performances in the evenings, she continued to accompany him to church on Sundays, still insisting on her spot in the back pew. She sat in the back but she still came despite her constant schedule and the fact that she hardly had a day to rest; Erik was glad for it.
And when Christine's menses stopped coming neither of them acknowledged it.
Until the third month, when Erik woke in the middle of the night to find himself alone in bed for perhaps only the second time since he had taken her. It always made him nervous, an odd thing as he had been alone for most of his life, but his wife rarely left the bed in the middle of the night without a word to him and the last time it had happened he was forced to give chase to her through the woods.
Such was not the case on this night. He found her kneeling against the cool tile of the bathroom, heaving into the chamber-pot. And he wordlessly sank to his knees, pulling her hair away from her face and rubbing her back soothingly.
"You're ill," he said quietly.
She shook her head. "I'm not ill," she argued roughly. "I feel - I feel better now."
And it seemed true enough. She no longer heaved, instead allowing herself to lean backwards into him.
He held her for a long while as he contemplated it, and then he sighed. "It's been three months," he murmured.
"What?" She sounded surprised, nervous.
"It's been three months. I've been waiting for you to tell me but - you weren't going to, were you?" Slowly she shook her head and he sighed again. "Why?"
"Because I'm happy, Erik," she whispered. "Because if I say it then it's real, but if I don't - if I don't acknowledge it, if I don't have hope then maybe, maybe it won't hurt so badly if it doesn't happen."
He pulled her against him, into his lap, letting her rest her temple against his shoulder as he gently rocked her. Her fingers began to play with the collar of his shirt, reminding him strikingly of the girl who had just seen him kill a man, the little frightened thing she had been.
"You know - not yet, it's still far too early, but you know that if - if it does continue on, healthily, you will have to apply for leave," he murmured eventually, keeping his voice soft and calm as he carefully chose his words.
"I know," she whispered.
So he simply pressed his lips to the crown of her head, continued to hold her and gently rocking her like a child on the cold bathroom floor.
