Poor Christine has really dug herself into a hole here.

.........

It takes three nights before I really miss him.

It isn't something you think about. It's just something that you do without conscious thought, something you do on instinct. It just happens.

"Raoul," I say sweetly one night. "We are out of jam."

His expression is surprised. "Really?" he says. "I'm sorry, my pet, I thought we had a full jar a few days ago."

"Yes, well…" I say, looking at my hands. "You know I like to have it for breakfast…"

He instantly leaps to his feet. "Not to worry, I'll go and get some at once."

I let out an odd sort of giggle. "I can go and get some myself, silly."

He shakes his head, already going into the front hall to get his jacket. "No, of course not. What kind of husband would I be? I will fetch it for you in town and be back before you are asleep."

"But… I might want a new flavor. I don't know what flavor I want. I'll have to see them all."

He gives me a kind smile. "I'll buy one of each."

I follow him into the hallway. "Really, Raoul, I can go."

"Nonsense. You stay here."

"But, I didn't mean that you had to go for me—"

"I want to go, Christine—"

"I want to go!" I yell, like a temperamental child. "Please Raoul, let me go myself!"

He looks at me as though I have gone crazy. "I—Well, if you—if you insist!" he stutters, and he looks at me in confusions as I go to retrieve my own coat. "But Christine, you cannot possibly think I mind going for you…"

"I just want to get out for a little bit," I say, trying to take my voice down. I am embarrassed by my outburst. "Just to go for a walk, by myself. Just to breathe a little. Hmm?"

"Must be a 'woman' moment," Raoul says, trying to smile. He looks me up and down. "Be careful, then. Be very, very careful."

"Of course," I say. I hesitate, then I go and peck him lightly on the lips. "I'll be back before you are asleep."

He smiles. "I will wait up."

I can tell he is watching me as I make my way down the long path. Even when I am past the long view of the summer house, I do not turn around. Halfway into the city, I break into a run.

I feel like everyone is staring at me, watching me… They know what I am doing. Then know where I am going.

I stop in the Opera Lobby to comb my fingers through my hair. My face is flushed, my dress is wrinkled; there is nothing to be done for it.

Before anyone can see me, I am down in the secret passageways… I am running, running, until I am going under the secret ways and in front of the front door. I raise my hand to knock, before I change my mind and just turn the handle.

The familiar air hits me hard, and I stand there for a moment just absorbing, before I notice Erik sitting on the little couch. He looks almost as if he is expecting me.

He looks up at me at the same moment I say, "I told you I would come back."

I fling myself at him with a force I didn't know I had. He is half-risen as he catches me and presses his face into my hair as he clings to me.

"Christine, Christine?" he says. "I was so sure it was a dream…"

I touch the inside of his jacket. "It was real," I whisper.

"No," he says, and his grip grows tighter—painfully tight. "No, you are not here… You are not real!"

"I am!" I plead, and I do not bother to wrestle from him grip, even though he is hurting me. "Erik, please! I missed you…"

He lets go of me, stepping backwards. He seems at a loss for words, and I slowly reach out to remove his mask. His expression beneath is one of confusion.

"You missed me?" he repeats, perplexed.

"Of course. I always knew I would. And I came back… And now I am back again."

He suddenly backs away from me. "For what?" he says. "For what? Why did you come?"

"I miss—"

"Missed what?" he demands.

"Missed you!" I burst out. "Missed how you are, and how you talk to me, how you hold me, how you make me feel so important… I came back here, and this is how you treat me? Maybe I should go!"

It is such an empty threat—I know I cannot leave so soon, but it seems to work, and he grabs me possessively.

I cling back onto him, so thankful that he stopped me. So he does still care for me, even after all I have done to him.

"Look how flushed you are," he murmurs. "Did you run here?"

I nod.

"Christine," he says into my hair. "I can breathe when you're around."

I nuzzle into him, and I can breathe too. I inhale, and I can smell him, can taste him with my senses.

"Why do you come back?" he asks, and his voice is sharper now. "Why? When Raoul is at home waiting for you?" He takes a deep breath; I can feel the rise of his chest. "Never mind. I do not…I do not care. You're here. That's all that matters."

I feel like I'm going to cry, and I try to stop the tears. I think about Raoul, waiting for me at home… then I brush him from my mind. My husband is not involved in any of this. This is my own business.

Mine and Erik's.

I fall into him as I lean up, and his lips close over mind naturally. His whole scent and atmosphere fills me with this terrible darkness, this urge for the hidden secrets that no decent people speak of. I explore a little, moving my hands up to his chest and neck as I flutter my breath into his mouth.

He pulls back again. "God! It's not like I can even try to stop you!" Erik looks up, as if praying for strength, and then back to me. "Look at you! Looking at me as if I am actually appealing—as if I am more handsome than your Raoul!"

"It's not about looks to me," I say.

"Then what is it?" he says in despair.

"It's just you," I say, shaking my head. "Erik, you make me feel loved."

"You are loved," he says softly.

"You make me warm. I just feel… different with you."

His eyes are burning. "I want you." he says flatly. "I love you, and I want you. You are so fascinating in the dark."

I cannot believe I am saying this. I cannot believe that I could ever say this to anybody, but Erik is Erik. "I want you. I want you to want me. I want to make you want me."

"You don't have to try very hard," he says gruffly, but as I reach towards him again, he leaps back again.

"This is crazy!" he says, putting his hands on his head. "This cannot happen! This—There's too many things—No! It's can't. Pregnancy! What if you became pregnant? What if you are caught. Raoul. Raoul! Does he know where you are?"

"I told him I was going to the market," I say warily.

"Oh, Christine," he moans, falling back onto the couch. "You lied.."

Such a column of fear hits me that my heart stops and my stomach burns. "No! Don't be angry, don't be disgusted with me! You can't be—You have to love me! You understand, you have to understand!" I go towards him in a panic, my arms held out. "You're the only one who understands!"

He grabs me as I drop into him, and he presses his lips against mine as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"The consequences—" he starts to say against my mouth, but I pull the drawstring of the back of my simple dress, letting it fall to reveal my underclothes. He meets my eyes once, and I know there is no stopping us now. We once again spiraled into our own trap—much more willingly this time.

"Never mind," he says, and I throw my arms around him.