He watched her more carefully a few more minutes. The blue dress he had bought for her fitted her like a glove, reflecting once more the cleverness of his choices. Even at that distance, he could smell roses in the air, the scented oil he had chosen flooding his senses.
He had noticed the tears that had escaped from the corner of her eyes but he beated the impulse of rushing to consol her. He had to make the effort…
'I'd love to read the contents of that note, Madame'. His voice was soft yet distant.
Christine stood up, quite startled and, at the same time, ashamed of being caught in that situation. She managed to recover her composture and, taking the note she had written five minutes before, she came to stand before him and handed it over to him. Erik looked at her and took the paper she had extended without further ado.
He unfolded the paper and read it thoroughly. The short but tender letter turned out to be quite amusing too.
He sighed, laughing slightly. 'There's no need to thank me for anything, dear. A damsel in distress must be well looked after. I'm glad the dresses are to your liking…' his tone had become ironic. 'though I'm sure they cannot compare to the elegance and luxuries your husband provided you, don't you think?'
In a moment, fury had started to build up inside her. She had written to him with all the honesty and feeling she possessed, and he just treated it as a joke. He had even dared to mention Raoul. A part of her did understand the harshness of his attitude but she couldn't help feeling a stab of pain with every one of his reproaching words. She closed her hands into fists, frustrated. She could not reply or tell him how wrong he was. Nothing…
The way in which she glared at him let him know clearly that his words had pained her greatly. She walked towards the main door, ready to abandon the house. She wanted to leave. Go for a stroll. Perhaps that would make her feel less exasperated than what she already was. Ah, but going alone was terribly dangerous. She was being persecuted and should not take risks.
Of course he had noticed the suffering caused by his ruthless answer. For a moment he hated himself for hurting her so cruelly but what could he do? What was she expecting? She should have prepared herself for something like that. She could not expect a grateful man, welcoming her with open arms, ready to forget and devote to herself while she stepped over his dignity.
He took her hand with the stupid excuse of giving her the note back. He had forgotten completely the sensations evoked by her touch all over his body. For a few seconds, their eyes remained frozen. Christine could have sworn that the Erik she had known so many months ago was still somewhere in those green eyes. However, that was only until he forced himself to turn away his gaze.
'A walk would do you good, just…wait for Angie. She'll be here shortly'. At this, he broke the contact of their hands and retired to the other end of his apartment.
She did not understand…
All the mixture of sweet moments and bitterness was oppressing her chest, almost suffocating her. She sat down in the armchair with her heart on one hand, the note on the other and thousands of confused thoughts.
The following day began in a calmed way. The first rays of sunlight appeared shyly at nine o'clock and Angie was ready to leave. Quickly, she disappeared of the not too roomy entrance of the hostel with her bag and headed to the centre of the town.
She had an invitation to have breakfast she could not turn out, and she needed to speak to someone friendly more than ever. Erik's recently acquired attitude annoyed her more and more each passing day. He had become another person, indifferent and passive, that only talked to her when there was some errand to run. And that was all Christine's fault.
What she really found strange and what got to her nerves at the same time was that, after the walk they had shared, she was starting to feel that her presence was in fact pleasant. She had even started admiring her. Her natural calmness, her kindness and sweetness… and her apparently perfect disposition in everything she did.
She was arriving to the nearest cafeteria. Édmond had a newspaper in his hands and a cup of coffee on the table he was occupying. When he lifted his gaze to the entrance door, he greeted her warmly and invited her to have a seat in front of him.
He left his designs for a moment. Despite of the early hour, he felt like putting forward some of the projects he had in mind but there was something else bugging his mind.
Immediately, he started writing. He wondered if they were still in the same old apartment but he had to try. They were probably worried.
He smiled. For all Heavens, how long had passed since the last time he had wrote a letter?
They were both enjoying a pleasant breakfast at the same time that he began satisfying his curiosity for the girl.
'Tell me, Angeline, how is it that I always see you walking about in the streets so very often? Your job must be exhausting, without a doubt'. He sipped his coffee while waiting for her to swallow another bite of her croissant.
'Well, the truth is that it is. Exhausting, I mean, though at first I did not consider it to be like that in the least. I work for a…', hesitation flashed briefly through her gaze. 'For an important artist that has settled here very recently. I deal with many of his errands, as well as take care of his house. And that's become specially…tiring as of late.'
Tiring and painful, too.
He was becoming interested in what he was hearing. 'Oh. I think I might understand what you mean. A kind of job like that must not be easy to carry out. But it seems that it was easier to cope with it in the past... What is it that makes your chores so tough and tedious now?'
She paused for a moment, gave a sip to her own coffee and looked directly into his eyes. 'The recent return of somebody in the life of someone who's very dear to me'
He watched her in surprise, dropping his cup slowly upon the table…
That was working well...
He got up from his desk. He would come back to his designs later on, for now he needed to clear his head. He had spent more than an hour focusing on the plans and he felt that if he kept on with that much longer, his mind would end up exploding.
He walked to the part of the apartment destined to the bedrooms and noticed that her bedroom door was ajar. He came in quietly and found a very familiar scene before his eyes. Christine had fallen asleep, with her head lolling back and a book between her hands.
Erik came closer to the armchair and took the book with utmost care, leaving it on the bedside table. Then, he looked at her bed and reached for one of the cushions on it. Trying his best not to wake her, he tilted her head so that he could place the cushion bellow, so that she would not suffer a serious neckache afterwards.
He observed her peaceful expression, her even breathing…
Lord. He loved her. He loved her and could not do anything to prevent it.
However, he would not let her know yet.
He stroked her cheek for a short moment… the caress lasted just long enough for his fingers to brush slightly her skin.
'Rest, Christine...', he said in a barely audible whisper.
What he could not see when he was leaving her chamber was the smile that had formed in her face or the small sigh she emitted before giving into deep sleep again.
He did not sense that Angie had witnessed the whole scene, either, and that she rushed to the living room soon after him.