Christine quickly wiped her cheeks dry as the carriage pulled to a stop, depositing her one last time at the entrance to the hospital. She wished she had a mirror at hand so she could fix her appearance before going in. As it was, she could only hope that her eyes did not look too red or puffy, betraying the fact that she had been crying. If her father noticed something was amiss and remarked on it, she could always claim it was due to a sleepless night. It would not even be a complete lie.
After she took down the bag containing her personal belongings and the case with her father's violin, she watched the carriage turn around and drive off. How strange it would be not to have it waiting for her when she returned.
As she made her way to her father's room, she nervously searched the hallways for any sign of Raoul, ready to bolt in the opposite direction if she should spot him. Despite her conversation with Erik earlier that morning, which had made it painfully clear that he had not the slightest interest in her, she was no closer to making a decision concerning Raoul's marriage proposal. Erik might have forgotten all about her already, but that did not mean she could banish him from her mind quite so easily, making it all the more difficult to consider Raoul's offer. Not even an hour ago, she had felt her heart shatter into a thousand little pieces. Marriage was the last thing she wanted to be thinking about at this moment. Still, she would have to make a decision sooner rather than later.
It was with a heavy heart that she knocked on the door to her father's room. He, on the other hand, seemed to be in excellent spirits. He had an ear-splitting grin on his face and was almost bouncing with childish excitement at the prospect of finally leaving the hospital behind and resuming his old life. If only Christine could share his excitement.
"I was about to ask if you were ready, but I can see that would be an unnecessary question," Christine remarked.
"I have never been more ready for anything in my life," Gustave chuckled. "You know me, my dear. I cannot sit still. Being bedridden for these past few weeks felt like quite an ordeal, I can assure you."
"Yes, I can imagine. I am very happy that you are well enough to go," she replied with a forced smile, trying valiantly to conceal the lingering sadness in her eyes.
She did not entirely succeed.
"Are you?" her father asked. "Happy, I mean? You have a rather melancholy look about you today."
She should have known he would not be fooled so easily. He had always been a perceptive man, effortlessly discerning other people's state of mind. His own daughter was certainly no exception to that.
"I'm fine," Christine lied, "only a little tired. I had a lot to think about last night."
Gustave was evidently not convinced. Whereas he had been full of excited energy mere moments ago, now, having sensed his daughter's distress, he took on a much calmer and more serious countenance. He sat down on the bed, gesturing for Christine to take a seat next to him. "Would you like to share your concerns with your old man?"
Christine let out a deep sigh. She had not wanted to burden him with any of it, but she also knew that finally telling someone what was on her mind would take a considerable weight off her shoulders, especially if that someone was her father. He had been a constant, grounding presence throughout her life, always there to listen to her troubles and willing to do whatever he could to help solve them.
"Well," she began as she sank down on the bed, "I met Raoul as I was leaving yesterday. He asked me to marry him."
She could see this news took her father by surprise, although he tried very hard not to show any emotion as he listened to her story.
"I see," he said, "and were you expecting such an offer?"
"No, not at all. I mean, I have only known him for a short time. I find him very kind and pleasant to talk to, and he always seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being as well as yours, but until yesterday I never suspected there were more serious feelings involved on his part."
"And what answer did you give him?"
"I told him the truth." Or at least part of it, she thought. She had after all carefully omitted to tell him that she was in love with another man. "I told him that I did not know what to say and that I needed some time to think about it."
"So you are considering accepting his proposal then?"
"I am, yes. I truly believe him to be a good and honourable man, and he does not seem to care that I do not have a penny to my name. He is certainly wealthy enough to provide for me, and you as well. He has even offered to take us in for a while, regardless of whether I decide to marry him or not. And I am sure he would make a fine husband." She winced as she spoke those last words, remembering Erik's cold and dismissive tone as he said the very same thing earlier that morning.
Her father was quiet for a while, seemingly contemplating what she had just told him.
"It is certainly true that our financial troubles would be solved if you accepted his proposal," he said eventually, "but do you love him? Or care for him? Although the arguments you gave in favour of marrying him are valid, I am surprised you did not mention having any feelings for him."
He certainly knew how to hit the nail on the head. That was the core of her predicament, was it not? Her head told her marrying Raoul was the best course of action, but her heart could not seem to agree.
"I do care for him," Christine said honestly, "and I see no reason why I should not be able to grow to love him in time."
"But he is not the man who makes your heart beat faster, is he? I believe that role already belongs to someone else," Gustave said, giving her a knowing look.
"What makes you say that?" Had she really been that obvious without realizing it, or had her father simply grown adept at reading her feelings, and maybe her thoughts too, over the years?
"It is true that you have mentioned Raoul a few times during your visits here, and you always had kind things to say about him. But it was Erik's name that predominated pretty much every conversation."
"Well, I have been living in his house and spending a lot of time with him," Christine argued half-heartedly. "Is it not natural then that I spoke about him often?"
"Of course, I am not contradicting that, although I am convinced there is more to it than that. Something happens to your face when you talk about him. It lights up when you speak his name, like the sun peeking through the clouds after a long rainy day. Even when you speak of his quick temper and his violent outbursts, there is a certain tone and quality to your voice that tells me you still care for him very much."
"Even if I do care for him, there is no use in dwelling on it. Erik made it quite clear this morning that any feelings on my part are entirely one-sided." Admitting that out loud hurt more than she had expected, and she cursed the tears already forming in her eyes. She did not want to cry over him again.
"Oh, I am so sorry to hear that, my love," her father said with a compassionate look, putting his arm around her and rubbing her arm soothingly. Christine leaned into the comforting touch, laying down her head on his shoulder. She had been so confused and uncertain about everything lately, but at least here, in her father's arms, she found some peace. Whatever would she do without him?
They let the silence wash over them.
After a few minutes, Gustave was the first to speak again, quietly but surely.
"Look, I understand that this is a hard decision for you to make. I will support you no matter what you choose, but I need you to know that you do have a choice here, Christine. If you do not want to marry Raoul, then you do not have to. I know you long for a home, and I am sure we will manage to find one eventually, one way or another. The only thing that truly matters to me is your happiness. If you are convinced that marrying Raoul will make you happy, then I will wholeheartedly give my consent. But I will not have you feel pressured to make a decision you might later come to regret."
Christine smiled in relief, suddenly feeling a lot lighter. She had not realized how much she needed to hear those words. She had been wrong in trying to conceal her worries from her father. In fact, she wished she had spoken to him sooner. He always knew the right thing to say.
"Thank you, papa. That means a lot to me," she whispered gratefully, pressing a kiss to his cheek berfore she gently pulled out of his embrace. "Well, I suppose we can at least afford a little more time to consider our options now."
"What do you mean?"
"Erik, he… He gave me some money before I left," she admitted reluctantly. "A reward, he called it." It still pained her to think of the cold, transactional nature of their goodbye, but she must try to leave those bruised feelings behind and look ahead to the future. "I do not know how much it is, exactly, I haven't counted it yet, but it appears to be a rather substantial sum. If we spend it wisely, it might be enough to allow us to stay in one place for a few months, maybe a year even, until we can decide on a plan for the more distant future."
"That is certainly very generous of him."
"Yes, it is," Christine murmured wryly. If only he could have been as generous with his heart as he had been with his money.
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by loud, frantic knocking on the door.
Her father gave her a quizzical look, silently asking if she was expecting anyone or knew who would want to see them so urgently, but Christine simply shrugged her shoulders, indicating that she was as clueless as he was.
"Come in," he called.
When the door opened to reveal their visitor, their surprise could not have been greater.
"I apologize for the interruption," Erik said as he walked in, his eyes trained solely on Gustave, "but I would like to speak with Monsieur Daaé on a rather urgent matter. Privately, if you please."
At a single nod from her father, Christine stood up, her heart beating in her throat. What urgent matter could Erik possibly have to discuss with him? What could be so important that he would leave his estate for it? With a shock she remembered Erik telling her how he had sworn never to set foot in the village again after what happened with his brother and his father. And yet here he was. What could be the meaning of this?
She kept glancing in his direction while she walked to the door, hoping he would at least look at her and give her some indication of what was going on, but he ignored her completely until she had left the room.
Out in the hallway, she nervously paced back and forth. If her father had not raised her better than that, she would have pressed her ear against the door, trying to overhear what the men were saying.
The hospital halls were bustling with activity, doctors and visitors constantly passing by, yet to Christine it felt as if time had slowed down to a standstill. Seconds seemed to drag on endlessly, minutes appeared to last an eternity, and still she could not imagine what Erik could want to talk about. He had seemed so glad to be rid of her this morning, so why would he be chasing after her now? Well, not after her, but after her father, apparently, which was even more confusing.
Finally the door swept open, but it was not Erik who stepped outside. It was her father who appeared in the doorway with a mysterious smile on his face. At least if he was smiling, whatever Erik had wanted to discuss could not have been all that bad, Christine reasoned.
"He would like to see you now," was all her father said. When she tried to press him for more information, asking him what they had talked about or what Erik wanted from her, he refused to tell her anything. "Just listen to what he has to say, and follow your heart," was his last cryptic piece of advice before ushering her into the room and closing the door behind her.
Erik was standing by the window at the opposite side of the room, his back turned towards her. Not knowing whether she should go to him or maintain the distance between them, Christine decided to stay where she was for now, only a few paces into the room, close to the door.
"You must wonder why I so suddenly came barging in here, after sending you away in such an unfriendly manner this morning," Erik said without looking at her, his voice remarkably softer than the last time they had spoken.
"Yes," she replied, trying to keep her voice from trembling as she spoke, "I must admit your presence here is quite baffling to me."
"Of course. Well, I wish to apologize for the way I behaved earlier. I never meant to hurt you, but I can see now that I did, and for that I am very sorry." Erik turned around then, allowing her to see the genuine regret in his eyes, and her heart thawed a little. However disappointed and hurt she had felt after their previous conversation, she found it difficult to stay upset with him when he was looking at her like that.
"The truth is," he continued, "I did not say what was truly on my mind before you left, and I regret that. I came here hoping you would allow me a chance to rectify that situation."
Christine nodded once, indicating that she was willing to listen. Before he started speaking again, Erik took a few hesitant steps in her direction, releasing a relieved breath when she made no move to stop him.
"You must know by now that I have been isolated and alone for most of my life, a situation which was created partly by my own desire, that much is true, but the result is that I find it difficult to interact with people most of the time. I am certainly not in the habit of confessing my innermost feelings to anyone. I did not exactly have much opportunity to, nor have I ever really felt the need to, until now. And the reason for that is you, Christine."
She inhaled sharply in surprise. After their painful goodbye earlier, this was not at all what she had been expecting. Erik was many things, but predictable was certainly not one of them.
"When you and your father walked into my house the night of the storm, you changed my life in a way I could not have foreseen. I cannot deny that your presence annoyed me at first. I had not had any visitors in a very long time and I preferred to keep it that way. But then you opened your mouth and you sang for me, and suddenly everything was different. From the moment I first heard you sing, being alone suddenly did not seem so appealing to me anymore.
To my disgrace I have to admit that the proposition I made you that night was not so much meant to help your father as it was to keep you by my side for a little longer. I had no other plan, no other desire than to hear you sing once more. Under any other circumstances, I do not think you would have agreed to it, but I could see you were desperate to find help for your father, and I shamefully abused the situation to my own advantage."
His confession did not surprise her all that much. She had known from the start that he was hardly a philanthropist and that he must have had his own reasons for offering the deal to her. Yet she could not help but feel flattered to learn that her singing had impressed him, the man with the golden voice, so much so that he felt he could not let her go.
When she did not say anything, Erik went on. "It was not until the next day that I realized what a mistake I had made. You might have agreed to stay with me, but I had no idea how to talk to you, how to behave around you. I'm afraid that became painfully obvious over the next few days. With every outburst, every time I lost my temper around you, I thought surely this would be the one that would drive you away. And still you stayed.
I don't recall exactly when I became aware that my feelings for you went well beyond being impressed with you for putting up with my terrible moods, or appreciation of your beautiful singing, but soon I started dreading the day you would have to leave. Although I did not want you to go, I did not know how to ask you to stay either. I came so close that last day in your room. I nearly…"
He looked away, not finishing his sentence. He did not need to. She knew exactly what he had been about to say. I nearly kissed you. His unspoken admission hung in the air between them. Christine did not speak, but desperately hoped he could read the answer plainly on her face. I wanted you to. I still do.
"But then the news of your father's recovery came, and I knew that was it. The time had come for you to go. That is why I stayed out of sight for the rest of the day, and why I was so cold to you this morning. It was the only way to hide how it was killing me not to stop you."
"Why?"
His eyes shot up to meet hers. He looked startled to hear her speak for the first time since the beginning of his confession.
"What do you mean?"
"Why did you not stop me? Why did you not just tell me how you felt?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked incredulously. "Because I did not believe you could ever feel the same for me."
Her heart was beating so fast by now that Christine was sure it could give out any minute. Could this really be happening? Was he truly telling her that he loved her?
"What made you change your mind then?" she asked, no longer able to keep her voice steady. "Why did you come here to tell me after all?"
"It was Nadir," he said with a wry chuckle. "He found me in quite a state after you left, and after I told him what was going on, he convinced me that maybe, just maybe, I was… wrong. Was I?"
He looked at her with such devotion and such unbridled hope that she could no longer refrain from telling him what she had wanted to say yesterday or this morning.
"Yes, you were."
But Erik went on speaking, looking at her anxiously, as if he had not heard her, or as if she had not spoken at all.
"Christine, if you truly… love the De Chagny boy, I will not – "
"I don't," Christine interrupted him, and this time, he did hear her. "Raoul is kind and caring, and I enjoy his company very much," she went on, and at her praise for the other man, a pained expression immediately appeared on Erik's face. "But I do not love him," she quickly added, not wishing to prolong his doubt unnecessarily. "I already gave my heart to someone else. And let me be very clear, so there can be no further misunderstandings between us. It's you, Erik. My heart belongs to you."
Erik did not reply. He simply gazed at her in amazement, his mouth hanging slightly open, as if he could not comprehend what she was saying. He looked like he did not believe her, his golden eyes burning with uncertainty, silently asking her if she was absolutely sure. She returned his gaze with determination. There was no doubt left in her mind, nor in her heart.
"Oh." He looked around him uncomfortably, not quite knowing what to do with himself, clearly not having expected this particular outcome. "Well, I suppose I should tell you why I came to speak to your father, then."
"Oh. Okay." The turn in the conversation quite confused her, but Christine assumed he did have a point to make and she would do best to let him finish.
"I know how important your father is to you, so I wanted him to know how much I… how much I love you." The last part was said in nothing more than a whisper. He paused briefly, looking at her anxiously as though he expected her to change her mind when she heard him speak the words aloud. "And I wanted him to give his blessing."
His blessing? It took her a while to figure out what he meant, until she saw him go down on one knee in front of her, pulling a small red velvet box out of the pocket of his jacket. She gasped in amazement as he opened the box to reveal a delicate silver ring with a small dark blue stone at its centre.
"That's my mother's ring," she said, recognizing it at once. "My father has carried it with him since the day she died."
"So he told me," Erik confirmed. "When I asked his permission to propose to you, I realized I did not have a ring yet, and so he gave me this one. He said he had been waiting for the right moment to give it to you, but that there could be no better circumstances than these for you to receive it."
Once again, Christine felt a few tears roll down her cheek. She had hoped she would be done crying for the day, but this time they were not tears of sadness or pain. They were tears of unimaginable, perfect, delirious happiness.
"Christine Daaé," Erik spoke, his magnificent voice trembling with emotion, "will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?"
Christine wasted no time in replying. "Yes," she nodded as she reached out her hand so Erik could put the ring on her finger, but he did not move, staring at her in silent astonishment.
"Yes? You really mean it?"
His apparent disbelief that she could truly wish to be his wife saddened her, but she had an entire lifetime to convince him of her feelings now.
"Yes, Erik. I love you, and I want to marry you." She stretched out her hand a little further until he took the hint, his shaking hands fumbling to take the ring out of the box and slide it onto her finger.
"Oh. I uh… I didn't believe… I thought…," he mumbled as he stood up, "I'm afraid I don't really know what to say."
Christine smiled gently at him, bringing up her hands to cup his cheeks, marvelling at the contrast of the dark blue stone of her ring against the white of his mask. "Well, maybe you should not say anything for a while then."
She softly pulled down his face until his lips finally met hers in a long awaited, tender kiss. After a few seconds she felt him hesitantly wrap his arms around her, tentatively returning her kiss with gentle pressure of his lips, and in that moment, in the embrace of the man she loved, Christine realized that what she had been looking for had been right in front of her all along. She had finally found her home.