Author's Note: Hello, everyone. Yes, I haven't forgotten about this fic and yes, I still have every intention of finishing it, just as I promised. First year in college truly swept me away that I barely had time to gather my focus to churn out a new chapter. I truly apologize to everyone I kept waiting. More than that, I truly missed all of you and writing for you. It's good to be back. Also, fun fact, my major in college is Creative Writing. I'm honestly so grateful I was able to pursue my heart's desire because I really do love writing.

On another note, I hope each and everyone out there is safe from the pandemic. It'd be a really privileged thing to tell everyone to just stay inside so instead, please do everything you can to stay safe. I can't do much else, but updating this story in the middle of this crisis might hopefully help as a distraction from everything happening out there. My country is under quarantine itself so at the very least I have plenty of time to kill and I might as well use it to catch up in writing this fic. Take care, everyone. If you so decide to leave a chapter at the end, let me know how you're doing too, okay?

( thirty-four )

THE LOVERS

Erik was restless.

When he learned what Jovan's plan was the previous night, he had naturally protested with utter severity. For God's sake, the girl planned to actually return into the same coach where she just had another vile encounter with her uncle. And this was all so she could "negotiate" with him, as Jovan had sarcastically put it. But the truth was, what she planned to tell Rèmi was far from what could be considered a parley. No, Jovan told Erik; she planned to tell Rèmi once and for all that she was most definitely not coming back... with him.

"What? What do you mean?" Erik had asked as he cleaned the cut on her cheek.

"I... I still don't know how to do it but... I'll tell you tomorrow, Erik. After I meet Rèmi and come back here―"

"Jovan―"

"Erik. Nothing you say will sway my mind. I will meet my uncle tomorrow and when I am done with him, I swear to you that I will come back here."

And that was the last that Jovan would have of it. Erik had proceeded to give her the space she needed to brace herself for the next day. And when tomorrow finally came, after Erik watched the black coach roll away from the Opéra Populaire from the rooftop, he returned to his home and tirelessly paced on the shores of his lair as he waited for Jovan to come back.

His pocket watch in hand, Erik couldn't help but glance at it and check the time every now and then just to see how long it had been ever since Jovan left. His eyes would then dart to the passageway that Jovan frequently used, half-expecting her cloaked figure already walking into his home or at least waiting at the mouth of the tunnel, her familiar green eyes brimming with hope as she prepared to greet him with good news.

But a minute went by followed by another and another until an hour passed... and Jovan did not show up.

"Erik?"

Until she did.

Lifting his head, his blood ran at the sight of Jovan entering his home, her hood down as she took even steps towards him. Erik's feet began to move of their own accord towards Jovan as his eyes ran over her, checking for any injuries or anything of the like. They landed right back on those striking green eyes of her just as Erik reached her halfway across the cavern, and before he knew it his gloved hands were cupping her face.

A silent gasp slipped from Jovan's parted lips in surprise at the close contact, something that Erik did not anticipate himself.

"You're alright," Erik whispered as he finally moved his hands to put them on her shoulders, his eyes drinking in the sight of Jovan, very much alive and well and back within his reach. In his chest, his heart hammered as it sang in relief.

"Of course I am," Jovan answered with a slight laugh. "Erik, something has changed."

"Tell me all about it," Erik said without hesitation as he finally relinquished his hold on Jovan only to proceed to unfasten her cloak.

"Oh ― thank you," was Jovan's hushed reply, and once again Erik felt surprise radiating off her. But Erik himself wasn't quite sure what was compelling him to act as he was doing at that very moment. As he removed Jovan's cloak off her shoulders and approached the rack in the corner to hang it on, Jovan seated herself on the nearest divan. Erik sat beside her after a moment, careful to put at least a foot of distance between them.

A beat passed before Jovan started. "Rèmi did not pick me up. Laurine did."

"What? Why?" Erik's voice rose a notch from sheer surprise. "The same woman who told your uncle that she saw you at the Masquerade?

"She told me that she never did, that Rèmi somehow saw me with his own eyes. And... if she's to be believed, she wants to help me. She wants Rèmi to suffer," Jovan replied as she absently drew circles on the fabric covering her right thigh. Her eyes were not on Erik but on a spot on the floor, brows furrowed as if she herself was still trying to comprehend what she was saying, the same thing that Erik was doing.

"And do you believe her?" What game are they playing now? No, he did not like the notion one bit and the darkness of fury began to cloud his vision.

"I want to, Erik." Jovan's eyes finally met his and not for the first time on that day, Erik's heart pricked at the sight of the confusion mingling with despair in the green depths of her stare. "Laurine... She apologized to me. For everything she did and said to me. Of course I was suspicious at first but... She told me why. Why she wanted to hurt Rèmi too."

"And what reason did she give?" Erik asked in a stern voice, still all too suspicious of Jovan's aunt.

"She lost her child when she was pregnant, and it was because of Rèmi."

"Jovan, you have no proof of this."

"No, I don't, but... Why would she lie, Erik? The doctors told her she was barren before, for goodness' sake." Jovan then rose to her feet and walked towards the lake, stopping at the shore before she folder her arms against her chest and hung her head.

"It's the thing that hurts her the most. She has a thousand reasons to lie to me, but she would never lie about this. Not about something so..."

Erik stood up from the divan as well and followed her, stopping by her side as he took in the sight of Jovan staring into the soft ripples of the subterranean lake. He mulled over her words and found sense in them. And yet, he still could not bring himself to trust this Laurine, the very same woman who chose to remain blind to her husband's actions for years. Maybe it was just his suspicious side, that trait of his that had always protected him but also pulled him farther away from so many what if's, but Erik truly felt that there was still something wrong with the picture.

But, perhaps, he could try to bend a little, if only just to try and see where Jovan was coming from.

"Let's say that she is indeed telling the truth then," Erik replied. "Is she in it because she truly understands your plight now and wishes to align with you for maximal damage, or it is just to avenge herself and her child only for her to leave you to take all the blame should things go awry?"

"That's what I was thinking too," was Jovan's quiet answer. "The aristocracy are not people you can trust. Most of the time, they're self-serving and two-faced, quick to pin the blame on others."

Sounds familiar, Erik thought with an internal wince.

"I've never known Laurine well, so it's safer to assume that scheming is second nature to her. But," Jovan paused before reaching into the pocket of her trousers. She proceeded to pull out a small envelope before turning it over in her hands. A single letter was written on the white surface.

N.

"The doorman handed me this as I returned," she explained before opening the envelope and pulling out the letter it contained. Precise but elegant penmanship greeted them on the cream-colored paper as Jovan began to read aloud the words it contained.

"Nathalie," Jovan read, the sound of her real name still sounding foreign to Erik, "I will meet you again a day from now at the Café de L'OPera to discuss your return to high society, at the same time we met today. I suggest you use the time in between to leave the Opéra Populaire and find another place, one that is discrete, to stay in; it is better that Rèmi no longer sees you the next time he returns, for your own safety and that of the opera house's staff. In addition, may I suggest as well that you begin to concoct stories from your travels? When you announce your return, people will surely be expecting plenty of tales. If you do not know by now, this is the lie that Rémi sold to everyone who asked what happened of you ― that you left Paris as a way to cope with your father's death. I am assured, however, that you will succeed in this task. You are the daughter of a writer, after all. When we meet again, I shall help you with the fine details of whatever plan you will have devised. Until then, stay safe."

"It's from Laurine then?" Erik asked, giving the letter a once-over when Jovan finished reading it.

"This is her handwriting and signature alright," Jovan reassured him as she folded back the letter and returned it to its envelope. She fiddled with the letter in her hands as she seemed to delve deep into thought, and Erik already knew what she was mulling over.

"Where will you go if you leave the Opéra Populaire?"

"There has to be a place I can stay at around here," Jovan answered, her eyes back on the waters of the lake. "I just have to know where to look."

But Erik felt unsure about her decision. Damn it, he felt unsure about everything. "And are you meeting Laurine?"

Erik watched as Jovan then raised her eyes, her lips curving into the smallest of smiles, and confusion settled into his mind. He stared at her.

"Erik," Jovan said, turning to face him. "I'm going to go find a place to stay at and I will indeed meet Laurine a day from now. But please, don't worry too much over all of this."

"Do you hear yourself?" Erik retorted, not unkindly as his eyes narrowed at her. "I have every right to worry about you, Jovan. You're my―"

Erik stopped himself at the same second the smile fell from Jovan's lips and in his mind ran the same emotion he saw in her eyes ― hesitation.

"Friend," Erik breathed out. The word, he knew, was technically correct. How could he not call Jovan his friend after everything they'd gone through? After all these years of her unwavering faith in him? Her trust in him, her acceptance, her kindness... So why did he have trouble saying it at all?

And there was it again, that bothersome spike in his heart rate when he noticed her stare grow tender towards him; those lovely green eyes of hers that made him feel like he was the first ray of sunlight after a long and lonely, cold winter whenever they looked at him; as if he were truly something beautiful and precious to behold, and not the monster he saw himself to be.

"I can't dissuade you from this, can I?" she asked.

"Feel free to try it, please. I imagine it'll be like counting snowflakes," Erik sneered, grabbing the first opportunity of a distraction. He received a chortle of amusement from Jovan as she gave a roll of her eyes.

"I have to go, Erik." He watched as she walked past him and towards the rack. "With enough luck, perhaps I'll be able to find a place to move into before nightfall."

Erik strode across his cavern as Jovan began to fasten on her cloak. A moment later, he reappeared after entering his room, a length of thick gray fabric in his hands that he then handed to Jovan.

Jovan stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"Use it," Erik said, handing her the scarf made of wool. "Can't have you walking around Paris now looking so... exposed. Use it to cover your face, your hair perhaps."

The redhead's eyes widened in realization before she proceeded to wrap the fabric around her neck. Jovan's hair was already tied back, making it easy to hide when she would put on her hood, so there was at least that. Erik observed her in silence as she then adjusted the scarf, using it to obscure the lower half of her face. As he had predicted, the scarf's size, which was obviously too big for her, actually suited her to her advantage at the moment. Perhaps his only problem would be that it managed to make the green of her eyes pop out more, somehow.

"Better?" Jovan asked, voice slightly muffled by the wool.

Erik tried not to smirk at the sight before him. He had to admit that the oversized scarf made her look... adorable? "You'll want to speak louder though, unless you enjoy having to repeat yourself."

"Thank you, Erik. I'll return it to you after this," Jovan said, and Erik almost told her that it wasn't necessary. But by then, he was too distracted with the thought of Jovan walking around the streets of Paris alone and unaccompanied, strangers surrounding her at every turn, their intentions unknown and possibly a touch malicious, and it made him suddenly easy, the idea of Jovan outside of his domain after having stayed inside for so, so long. No, he didn't want to underestimate Jovan, knowing what ferocity she was capable of unleashing, but he simply couldn't help but worry―

"Stay with me, Jovan," Erik blurted out before he could stop himself.

Imbecile.

Jovan's eyes grew into saucers at his words."W-what?"

Erik wanted to crawl into a hole right there and then. Out of all the ways he could have phrased his question, it had to be like that? Stay with me? What was the matter with him?

"What I meant to say was," Erik tried to explain as he unconsciously straightened his back, "why go through all the trouble when you could simply move down here? It would surely save you time and, of course, you would remain under my protection."

Jovan cleared her throat. Erik was almost sure that beneath the scarf though, another one of her small smiles was dancing on her lips. "I appreciate your offer, Erik. Truly, I do. But this is something I need to do. I can't rely on you all the time; I don't want to have to. As dangerous as this seems, I think it's necessary that I learn to... stand on my own feet."

Erik gave a slow nod of understanding. Of course he understood her. After having stayed with Elea first and then seeking shelter at the Opéra Populaire and living on the kindness of Monsieur Lefèvre, Jovan needed this. It was all that she could do to keep her dignity intact. And as much as Erik wanted to voice out his qualms about her decision, as much he wanted to keep her from leaving for her own safety, he knew it would only hurt Jovan more than actually benefit her.

"Understood," he answered, and this time he saw Jovan's eyes crinkle from the smile she gave from behind the scarf. "And I don't have to say this but... be careful.

"I will," Jovan reassured him before she brought up her hood, effectively hiding her distinct red hair from sight. And all Erik could do was watch as Jovan walked out of his home, the small, familiar stab in his chest returning as she vanished from his sight.

Silently, he wondered when the day would come that it would be last time that she walked out of his home. And the very thought of it, he realized, made his chest hurt.

Hopefully, never.

Laurine stared at the crystal blue of her own eyes as, one by one, she removed the pins holding her golden locks in place.

It almost felt like a ritual, the act of undoing the mask she crafted with so much care every morning, as she ran her hands through her hair to smooth out any tangles in them, as she wiped away what was left of her powder and wiped her red lips clean, as she changed out of the tight constrictions of her day dress and into her nightgown, the light and loose fabric a welcome respite after spending the whole day in a corset.

She almost smiled at her own reflection when she saw her fair features, clean without a single smudge of make-up, staring back at her. But then the doors to her bedroom opened, and the moment was broken.

Laurine looked over her shoulder to watch Rémi as he entered their shared space. He dropped his jacket on the settee before proceeding to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, not caring to give her even so much as a glance from the moment he entered.

"So, where is our niece?" were then the words he chose to greet her with. Not even good evening or how was your day, my dear? Laurine returned her gaze to her vanity as she rolled her eyes, wondering if her husband could not be more obvious with his true priorities.

"I had an uneventful but otherwise fine day, darling," Laurine answered, letting a touch of sarcasm drip into her tone as she began brushing her hair. A few feet behind her, she watched through the mirror as Rémi stopped undressing to, finally, look her way for the first time since he arrived.

Laurine's lip almost curled in contempt as he walked towards her, stopping behind the chair she sat on before placing his hands on her bare shoulders. It took every ounce of her self-control to not flinch at his touch. She refused to turn towards him when he bent for a kiss, and he had no choice but to leave it on her cheek.

"Forgive me, my love," Rémi whispered to her, his voice unnervingly soft and sweet as he pressed the side of his head against hers. "But I simply worry for Nathalie. After all, after years of being apart from her, who knows what danger she might be in."

Laurine darted up from her seat before Rémi could finish. She grabbed her house coat from the rack before putting it on, feeling her husband's eyes on her. God forgive her but she still didn't know why or how she was even keeping up with this pretense with her husband. Pretending to be fine, pretending that everything was normal, that she was still his wife and he her husband, that she didn't know about the snake behind the handsome face ― yet here she was.

"She's not here," Laurine finally revealed just as she finished tying the sash around her coat. "She wasn't at the Populaire like you asked her to be."

She watched with concealed distaste as the lines on his face hardened, his jaw tightening at the bad news she just delivered to him. But before he could give a more tangible reaction, Rémi turned his back to her and began to walk around the room.

A scoff left him. "That stubborn girl. She's been gone for far too long and I can't keep telling lies to Leroy and the others―"

What about the lie you keep telling yourself? Laurine thought to herself as she walked towards the closed doors of their balcony, silent as Rémi continued to talk.

"―But then again, she's always been a rebellious spirit. Must have gotten it from her father and mother―"

Laurine played deaf to her husband as she unlocked the balcony doors, pushing them open to let the cool night air greet her. The stars in their multitudes twinkled at her when she raised her head to the sky, always a welcome sight to her weary eyes. It was such a beautiful night, yet her irritation only grew twofold when she realized Rémi still refused to shut up.

"―But she's not a girl anymore. She's a woman now, and that means she has start being responsible and that means she needs to return―"

"Here?" Laurine finished for him, raising her voice loudly enough that it prompted Rémi to stop pacing and to look at her.

"But of course, dear." Rémi shook his head. "This is her home, too, after all."

Laurine stared at her husband incredulously. With his dark raven curls and bright blue eyes, Rémi still looked every bit of the man that she fell in love with so many years ago. But seeing him now, as he no longer looked at her the way he used to, as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world, the first breath of life, the rain after the drought... it just always tore her in her half knowing that he no longer looked at her like that.

And then she had learned how he had always harbored feelings for his sister-in-law, for Mila. And Laurine simply no longer knew if all those loving stares, those starstruck gazes had even been real, or perhaps just a part of an elaborate act.

Laurine stared at Rémi for good long moment as she contemplated the man she loved with all her heart, once.

"Do you even hear yourself?" she asked, allowing a hint of anger to creep into her voice, as she finally stopped dancing to the tune of their make-believe. "This is no longer her home, Rémi. Because you took it way from her."

Rémi let out a low growl as he approached Laurine, his eyes growing fierce. "We've been over this, Laurine. I no longer think of like that. I see her now as I should have from the very start ― like a daughter. So it should only be natural that I feel responsible for her, don't you see?"

Liar! Laurine stood her ground as Rémi stopped before her, and she could practically feel the anger radiating off him. It was taut in the muscles beneath his shirt, the rage palpable as it laid coiled deep within him, and Laurine almost laughed because even if he didn't know it, it was proof that she was getting under his skin with words that she knew to be true no matter how hard he always denied them.

"That's not responsibility, that's control you want over her!" Laurine spat out.

Rémi made a move to grab her shoulders but she moved out of his grasp before he could touch her, the growing fire in his eyes almost scalding her in their intensity. But no, she would not allow herself to falter, not when she knew of her own rage that burned just as hotly as his own, if not more.

"If I want control, it's only so Nathalie won't talk! Do you really want what should be left in the past to ruin our future? One word out of that girl and she could lay waste to our family name!"

"Girl?" Laurine asked as a bitter laugh wracked her body. "She's not the girl from years ago, Rémi. Not anymore. And if you truly know what's best for her, then you would choose to just leave her alone."

With those words, Laurine turned her back to him, but it was not a second later when she felt Rémi's hand on one of her shoulders, tight in its clutch but not enough to hurt her. This time, she did nothing to prevent herself from flinching from his touch, his touch that she once craved for every night but now just disgusted her to her very core.

"Laurine, you have to understand―"

"I don't have to understand anything from you!" she screamed, losing her hold on her temper as she faced him once again. She ignored the familiar sting of salt in her eyes as she stood straight before her husband. "I'm finished trying to do so after all these years, Rèmi. Because truth be told, no amount of understanding will ever help me comprehend how and why you had it in you to treat Nathalie, your own niece, as you did."

For several beats, Rèmi was only silent, staring at her with fire in his eyes until it burned out, only to be replaced with ice, his blue eyes turning unnervingly cold as Laurine felt her heart crack once more. When did he even start looking at her like that? He never used to look at her like that...

"I don't need you to understand, Laurine," he then remarked in a placid tone, sounding more dangerous than he did when he was angry despite the calmness in his words. "I don't wish to have this discussion with you tonight. I just need Nathalie to return, simple as that."

And with that, Rèmi turned on his heel and walked away from her. Laurine watched as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt before taking it off and heading into the bathroom, and only when she heard the water running did she finally find the strength again to move her own feet. She led them lead her to the edge of the balcony until the entirety of the gardens in the estate was below her. But as she savored the breeze that arrived and caressed her face so softly like the man she used to love used to do so a long time ago, there was a swell of satisfaction that she was soon unable to ignore as it made her heart run wildly.

As Laurine closed her eyes and lost herself to the night, she let a grin grace her lips. If Rèmi wanted Nathalie to return that badly, then he would get it.

His only mistake now was thinking he could put things back to the way they were. But of course that was no longer possible, not when both Laurine and Nathalie were no longer the people they used to be all those years ago.