I was going to split this chapter into two, but then one of the chapters would've been very short, and I didn't want to shortchange you. Also, it would've made my story 31 chapters instead of an even 30, and I just couldn't do that lol

Thank you again to my readers and to those who have left reviews! I'm glad you've been enjoying the story so far :)

Chapter 17: Falsehoods and Foolish Hope

[featuring "Christine's Broken Heart" and "Erik's Broken Heart"]

~ Summer, 1909 ~

"Are there any letters for me today?" Christine asked grimly, just as she did everyday when she and the maid sat down for tea. Christine had lost hope of ever hearing from Erik again, but when the maid answered "yes", the ex-vicomtesse eagerly snatched the letter from the elderly maid's feeble grasp.

Christine's heart soared as she greedily tore into the envelope, but her heart stopped the moment she saw how Erik had addressed her.

Dear Madame de Chagny,

I was very sorry to receive your letter informing me of your divorce. It brings me pain to confess that my feelings toward you are not what they once were. I've realised Meg Giry and I have great potential to be happy together. Thank you for your clever hints in your initial letter. I believe your prompting was just what I needed to open my eyes.

Send my regards to Gustave,

Mr. Y

The letter was brief, too brief, but with that singular paragraph, Erik had shattered Christine's heart to smithereens. Her hands shook as her mind tried to process the words before her.

"Is something wrong, Madame?" the maid asked when she heard Christine's heavy breathing. The old woman looked up from her tea and saw her mistress' dropped jaw and wide, shellshocked eyes.

"Leave me alone!" Christine hissed. She clutched the letter to her chest to hide its contents from the unassuming maid.

"Alright, Madame."

"I said leave me alone! Don't talk to me!" Christine rose quickly from her seat, upsetting the flimsy tea table.

"Aright, Madame."

"You're fired!" Christine screamed as she dashed to her room. "Don't you dare come back tomorrow. I mean it!"

"Alright, Madame," the maid whispered after Christine slammed the door to her bedroom.

The maid decided she could use a day off anyway. She wouldn't come back tomorrow, but she'd come back the day after tomorrow when Christine was sure to have forgotten her threats. The maid stepped over the toppled table, ignoring the split tea and shattered porcelain as she shoved the remaining tea biscuits into her apron pocket. While munching a biscuit, the maid grabbed her threadbare coat and went home for the day. Gustave could deal with his fickle mother when he returned home from school.

In the privacy of her bedroom, Christine reread Erik's words to confirm the message. She crumpled the letter and buried her face in her pillow. Months of foolish hope and waiting, and this is what she got.

No matter how easy she made it for Erik to have her, he would continually cast her aside. He'd cursed her by forcing her to love him unconditionally, but he refused to fulfill his end of the bargain. He'd shown her ethereal music and fiery, passionate love, but he was leaving her out in the cold. Erik could deny it all he wanted, but Christine had been used.

A delightfully warm breeze and crashing waves filled the silence as Erik and Meg sat wordlessly in the garden. Though Meg never ran out of frivolous things to talk about, she didn't utter a word today. In fact, she'd been rather silent for weeks, but Erik didn't mind. He valued her company, even if they only sat side by side as their minds wandered in opposite directions.

"What a lovely sunset," Meg commented blandly as she stared at the fiery hues in the sky.

"Indeed it is," Erik replied, but as pretty as the sight was, it could not compete with the woman beside him. As Erik admired Meg in the lighting of golden hour, a peculiarly happy feeling warmed his chest. He'd felt it coming for sometime, but he'd never been able to pinpoint the emotion until now.

He loved her.

Meg had filled the void that Christine's departure had created, and yet, spending time with her was different. This emotion was sweeter. It'd snuck up on him without warning. It brought him a pleasant feeling rather than an all-consuming pain.

Erik reached into his jacket and pulled out his letter from Christine, the only letter she'd sent him. The paper was stiff and wrinkly from its brief dip in the long Island Sound; the ink was smudged and illegible, but Erik had every word memorized. He scanned the formless blotches of text until he found Christine's final sentiments:

...As your friend, it pains me to know you are so lonely. My greatest wish is that you receive the same happiness of which I have been blessed through my marriage. I know you and Meg Giry are very fond of each other, but that is all I will say on the subject.

Yours truly,

Madame de Chagny

Tears brimmed in the corners of Erik's eyes. As his first love, Christine would always hold a special place in heart, but she was happy on the other side of the Atlantic.

And soon he would be too.

"What are you doing?" Meg asked when she caught Erik smiling wistfully at Christine's letter. She recognized the paper by its previously waterlogged appearance.

"Hmm? Oh nothing." Erik refolded the letter, and stuffed it back in his jacket. He'd burn it tonight. Then he could be at peace.

"I think I'm ready to go inside," said Meg.

She stood abruptly and started for the house without Erik. Why was he looking at Christine's stupid letter? As far as he knew, the woman had forgotten about him, and yet he was still devoted to her. Meg bit her lip guiltily when she remembered Christine hadn't forgotten about Erik. She was miserable on the other side of the Atlantic as she waited for her beloved to affirm his love, but according to Meg's forged letter, he never would.

"Meg, you left me in the dust!" Erik teased as he trotted to catch up with her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Meg slowed her gait; she hadn't realized how quickly she'd been walking.

"Meg, is something bothering you?" Erik asked. "You've been so quiet as of late." He held the door open for her as they stepped off the terrace and into the library.

"What? No. Nothing's bothering me." Meg chuckled nervously, regretting that she hastily left the garden when she and Erik had been sitting so peacefully. "Why don't we sit in the parlour for a little bit?"

She tried to drag Erik onto a sofa as they passed, but he politely released himself from her grasp.

"That's very kind of you, but I have some composing I want to do." Erik continued into the foyer and began to ascend the grand bifurcated staircase.

"Why don't you work in the music room, and I can keep you company?" Meg suggested, frantically following Erik up the stairs. Once she'd secured his love, Erik would be happy and they could forget Christine altogether.

"I appreciate that you want me to get out more, but I want to be alone for a bit," Erik replied. Once he'd burned Christine's letter, he'd scour the Louis-Philippe room and get rid of the winter clothes she'd left behind. He'd erase every reminder of Christine's presence in his house. Then he could forget her once and for all.

When Erik reached the landing of the staircase, Meg impulsively tugged Erik backward and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Meg!" Erik's hand shot to his mouth, hiding his grin.

Meg gasped. "I'm so sorry!" she cried.

Her hands also shot to her mouth, but instead of a grin, they hid the horror and disbelief at what she'd just done. Her head fell into her hands as she sank to her knees under the weight of her plaguing guilt. Erik knelt down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be sorry, Meg. It's alright," he said tenderly. Should he swear his love now? He hadn't planned to do it until he burned the letter, but perhaps now was the perfect time.

"No, it's not alright," Meg mumbled tearfully. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Meg, are you sure nothing's bothering you?" Erik asked with a frown. "You can tell me what it is. You can tell me anything!" he added passionately.

"You don't want to know…" she muttered. "Erik...I...did something."

"And what's that?" Erik took the crying woman in his arms, but Meg was too distraught to notice his touch.

"I've hurt you very badly…" Meg confessed.

She couldn't care less about her ex-best friend's feelings, but she'd deceived Erik, the man she supposedly loved. Honesty was crucial to a relationship, right? Maybe he'd be proud of her for telling the truth? It was foolish hope.

"It really can't be that bad, Meg."

"But it is!" Meg insisted, summoning every ounce of her courage. "It's Christine...she's been writing to you."

Erik froze. His arms lowered, loosening his embrace around Meg.

"Christine?" he whispered.

Meg nodded. It was too late to turn back now. She might as well finish the story before Erik questioned her further.

"Yes, and I...took the letters...and I...destroyed them."

"What'd they say?" Erik asked irritably.

Meg gulped. She'd hoped he wouldn't ask her that, but she forced the words out of her mouth.

"She's gotten divorced...and she loves you…I'm so sorry…"

"And you destroyed the letters…" Erik whispered.

"Yes, but there's more," Meg squeaked, covering her eyes in fear of what Erik would do to her. "I wrote her a letter, pretending I was you...and I told her you didn't love her anymore."

"You what?" Erik's heart stopped.

Meg dropped her hands from her tearstained face and looked at Erik, expecting lightning bolts spark angrily from his amber eyes; but his eyes, which had been so vibrant as of late, were dim, their light extinguished by the overwhelming disappointment of Meg's dishonesty.

Erik closed his eyes when he heard the gunshot on the pier echo in his mind. That had only been an accident, and when the doctor announced Christine would live, Erik tried his best to forgive Meg and move forward as friends. But this had been no accident. This had been sabotage, pure and simple. This had been betrayal.

"Meg...thank you for telling me the truth," Erik said stiffly.

He slowly rose to his feet and tread up the remainder of the staircase. When he reached the top, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. He held eye contact with Meg for a second that could've been an eternity before he let out a long sigh and wandered listlessly down the hall to his chambers.

Erik slammed his door behind him and sank to the ground. His trembling hands pulled Christine's letter from his jacket. The fireplace taunted him from across the room. There was no fire in it at the moment, but he could have a roaring flame within minutes. That had been his plan initially, hadn't it? To burn the letter?

Erik's eyes poured over the smudged ink, trying to make sense of the illegible words he knew so well.

Raoul had overcome his vices and still loved Gustave as though the boy were his own. Christine and her husband were discussing where Gustave would continue his education. Christine was planning to catch up with all the dear old friends she'd missed while she was recovering in America. She was relieved to be home in Paris. She was happy.

And yet she wasn't. It had all been a lie.

Christine loved him, and there were no rivals for her affections. Erik should have felt elated, but instead he felt sick to his stomach. He thought he'd done the right thing, even though it broke his heart to cast her away. Christine was supposed to go home to Paris and be happy. Everything was supposed to return to normal, but instead Erik had sent her back to Paris like a lamb to slaughter.

You deceived me! Christine had shouted at him on that fateful night beneath the opera. She'd said many things to him that night, things that had changed him forever, but those words were among the things that haunted him most. Erik had sworn that night to never put Christine in harm's way ever again, but he was doing a terrible job at keeping that promise.

Christine was on the other side of Atlantic thinking Erik no longer loved her, and he was on this side wondering whether he still did. All because of Meg.

"Stupid women..." Erik grumbled as he tucked the letter back into his jacket. He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes as he looked toward the ceiling.