It is true that no light pierced through the thick layer of soil covering Erik's house. And every sensible man would think better than to dwell too much in a place where no life could grow. Yet Christine had learned to live and find comfort in the utter silence that reigned in the early morning hours, when the opera above them hadn't woken up.

It was in such a condition that she found herself in that morning, laying lazily in the warmth of the loveseat by the fire. She was calm and content, a bizarre occurence, considering the ordeal she had got tangled up in. Casually, having nowhere in particular to be, she took her time to wake up and cherish the first morning of the new year.

Opening her brand new journal, its spine still hard from lack of use, she noted the date on the top left corner of the first page. A whole blank book, like the whole blank year ahead of them. How hopeful she always was.

Dimanche, le 1er janvier 1893

Dear Diary,

The past year left quite a sour taste in me. I have to admit that I regret a fair share of mischief and thoughtlessness, but I am certain this year will be the happiest yet. As papa would say, the best moments of our life are always ahead. Happy New Year!

With a sigh, she kicked back the chair, leaving the diary open on the table, without worry of anyone seeing it. If Erik saw it, there was nothing wrong to find in it. She made her way towards the kitchen, when she thought about stealing a glance at Erik first.

The door of the Louis-Philippe room was open, and she was faced with the daroga's back as she approached. Perhaps he woke up, she thought and almost clapped her hands in excitement. The first day of the year and things were already better!

"Monsieur Khan!" she called from deep inside the corridor, but he did not even turn to acknowledge her call. She didn't want to try and shout louder, mindful of Erik's sensitivity to loud noises.

All sense of propriety in her restrained her skipping to her room, and she had to contain herself to excitedly tapping her fingers together as she came to stand next to the Persian.

"He's woken up?" she asked with a smile, swaying from side to side like a child who was promised more sweets.

"No," he answered solemly, not tearing his gaze away from the bed, yet not entering the room.

She was disappointed, but her good mood didn't falter, since the day before he was getting better by the hour. "That's too bad. I guess we'll have to let him sleep, then."

"Yes."

What was wrong with Monsieur Khan? Was he not happy to see his friend finally healthy? She shrugged to herself. "I'll make some tea. Would you like some?" she inquired and had already turned to leave the room.

"Mademoiselle."

It wasn't a question. Not even an answer to hers. But it was an answer alright. The one answer she had not dared to think of.

She returned with a quick step and suddenly, she felt exactly what the Persian was feeling. She just could not cross the threshold of her own room.

"When?"

"Sometime this morning, most likely."

The lake outside hit the shore softly, rythmically. The boat was hitting on its stake. She left to go and fix it, before the noise became too annoying.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice betraying his confusion.

"To tie the boat."

He blinked. "Didn't you hear me?"

She continued walking towards the door and ignoring him. From the corridor, he heard the front door open, and close a minute or two later. Back to his side she was, arranging her sleeves. "I couldn't reach the rope. Remind me to tell Erik when he wakes." She once again walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on the fire.

Nadir did not know how to handle the situation. "Mademoiselle," he tried again. "Do you understand what I told you?"

Her small head peaked from around the door for an instant. "Of course."

"And you're not upset?"

A sigh. "Why would I be upset about a lie?"

He froze. "Pardon?"

She returned, juggling three cups of steaming tea. She handed him one and walked into the room, setting the second by the bed. "As Erik always says, you panic too easily, daroga. He's just asleep, see?" She brushed his head tenderly. "Perhaps I'll wake him up later, so he can drink his tea when it's cooled down a little."

He took a deep breath. "Christine, I'm afraid the tea will get cold."

"No." Her honeyed tone was in truth biting.

"You have to trust me."

Her anger was scorching her from the inside. "No!" She shouted. "I don't trust you!" She pulled the covers higher around Erik's shoulders and stood in front of Nadir to confront him. "I refuse to trust the man who betrayed him in Persia. Who tells me you're not betraying him again?"

He raised his hands in defence. "What- Christine, you must see-"

"Out of my house." It was a growl.

"Please-"

"Out of my fucking house!" She screamed and pushed him out, further towards the door. "Get lost from my eyes!"

There was nothing he could do. If she didn't believe him, so be it. He decided to leave before his temper pushed him to do something he would regret later.

She slammed the door in his face.

What was he to do? He had his own pain to manage, denial would get him nothing but hurt.

Inside, her panic, fear and anger slowly burned out nd she returned by Erik's side, laying on te bed with her book. "Your friend is really a booby, my love. You are right," she kissed his forehead and started reading.

She could not tell how many hours had passed when her stomach started rumbling in protest. She turned to check Erik's temperature, before leaving him to go cook something quick to suppress her hunger.

"Nonsense, your fever's dropped. I'll make chicken soup, for when you wake up."

She was convinced she was right. She knew she was. The problem is, once the worm of doubt creeps inside your mind, it refuses to leave, until it eats you up. With this pest in mind, she leaned in and clutched him tightly, kissing his cold lips for the first time after so long. Her frail soprano voice whispered in his ear the song he had not heard her sing.

"Tu vedrai che amore in terramai del mio fu più forte..." You will see that never there was on earth a love stronger than mine...

"Vinse il fato in aspra guerra, vincerà la stessa morte..." It won over destiny in bitter confrontation, it will win even over death.

"O col prezzo di mia vita la tua vita io salverò," she choked on tears she had not felt fall.

"O con te per sempre unita nella tomba io scenderò." Or eternally united I shall go to the grave with you.


It was hard writing this. But the story is not finished yet, dear readers.