Disclaimer: Not mine, Baz's.
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"Come back to me and forgive everything."
He pivoted, slowly, a catch in his throat. It was on the tip of his tongue—come what may—but his voice refused to speak the words.
Forgive everything?
He stopped, swallowing a sob, and met her eyes, red-rimmed and so full of hope.
No.
She threw me over. She could have said something. She could have found a way around it. She valued stardom more than our love. I did everything for her. And even if we did live on together, what hope is there? It would never last.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. She stared at him, porcelain disbelief, more crystal tears welling in the elegantly made up eyes. There was his father in England, and work waiting, now that he was done with being foolish and rebellious. That was where he belonged. Behind him, he heard her sobbing. Maybe it was genuine, maybe it was for the benefit of the audience; with Satine, it was hard to tell.
Christian turned and walked out of the Moulin Rouge, dry-eyed.