Sobs echoed around the cavernous underground depths of my home. Dramatic, unleashed, childlike sobs. And I had to remind myself that she was still a child. Pure, innocent and naïve, and yet there had been hints, nuances of questioning adulthood in those glorious moments we'd once shared. She'd seen me as friend enough to share thoughts, to ask questions. But that was when I'd been an angel, now I was merely a man.

My heart hurt at the sound of her cries and it took everything I had just to remain seated at the piano. My fingertips fisted furiously into the fabric of my trousers, creasing them. Why did I keep hurting her when all I wanted was to love her? But my love was a poison, as cruel as the one that had nearly killed me all those years ago in Persia. And then I realised, I was the poison killing her. My actions, not my love. If I kept on this way then she'd die. We both would. She was meant for greatness, for freedom, for the light. While I was destined for nothing more than loneliness, darkness, and one day…damnation in the fiery pits of hell for the sins upon my soul.

I should let her go, I knew this, but I wasn't strong enough. I was too selfish. I tried to remain stoic and cold-hearted, telling myself that she had brought this fate upon herself. In choosing the Vicomte she had let her head rule and blinded her heart. She had been weak-willed and that had infuriated me when I'd known her to be so much more. I hated him. He'd come along and taken away the only person who had ever truly cared. Why should I be the only one denied of the most simple human right; to be loved, to be seen? But, naïvely, she'd followed him. He, the safe choice, the handsome prince. He had twisted her thoughts to frame me the villain of the story, the one undeserving of her love. And yet, wasn't I just the same? I'd taken her away from her world, to keep her here with me, bound to me. To cage this nightingale as I too, had once been caged…

As the moments passed, agonising minute by agonising minute, my veneer cracked and I found myself running for her bedroom. I reached the closed door and hesitated to knock. I didn't think I could bear to see the hatred in her eyes.

The crying had ceased, so I asked; "Christine, petit, may I come in?"

She didn't answer, but I heard her approach the door and unlock it. Of course she had locked it. When nothing more happened I tentatively opened the door and was met with those deep blue pools of sorrow. It broke my heart. What had I done?

Determined to reverse all that I could and bring some semblance of beauty back to her world I formulated a plan. It had snowed heavily for most of the day, it was the reason that night's performance had been cancelled as most of the city was blocked off. It was the reason that the Vicomte did not yet know his fiancée was missing.

"Can I show you something?" I asked, extending a hand that I willed not to shake. To my amazement she nodded and took it. "We'll need our cloaks, it's freezing outside," I said as I pulled hers off the hook and gently wrapped it around her shoulders. As I did, I noticed how thin the material was and wondered if perhaps this wasn't the best of ideas.

"We're going out?" she asked hopefully, and I immediately banished the idea of staying home in the warm.

"Sort of." If you could count the roof of the opera house as 'going out'. I pulled on my own heavy cloak, noticing the difference in the luxurious velvety fabric compared to Christine's threadbare one.

It was a silent walk up to the heavens and yet she held my hand the entire way. Though I daren't let myself hope that this was anything more than for security along the darkened paths of the catacombs, the fact that she continued to hold on, even as we walked the clear corridors of the opera house lead me to believe that she might not despise me as much as I despised myself.

We emerged into the world as icy flourishes swirled around us. Fortunately, the worst of the weather had settled and now we were left with pretty, sparkling drifts. Each one as unique as the girl before me.

"Look," I bid, as I gestured away from myself. Below us the city of Paris sparkled. And yet it was near silent, softened by the snow.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked gently.

"Because I wanted to give you something beautiful."

"It is beautiful, Erik," she said, as snowflakes settled in her silken curls and her cheeks flushed rose in the cold. In the light, I caught the diamond on her ring finger glinting cruelly at me, reminding me that she was not mine. As if sensing this, she awkwardly curled her hands into her cloak and kept her eyes on the city below.

For a while we stayed like that. Gazes fixed upon the view with so much yet unspoken between us. Then I noticed her shiver and cursed myself for forgetting how thin her cloak was. Before I could stop myself, the Opera Ghost façade returned. It was a mask I wore to shield my fragile heart.

"Come to me," I ordered, a hint of my need for acceptance lacing my voice. She obeyed, out of sheer instinct more than anything else. The need to be warm overwhelmed her, leaving no room for fear. My body was searing, consumed with desire, whilst our surroundings were frigid. Tentatively I wrapped my arms around her, certain that she must be able to hear my heartbeat and flustered breaths. As I felt her willingly step closer still, it came as a shock that the expression she gave seemed that this closeness was not all unwelcome. And I started to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Christine. So sorry for all that I've done, for all that I've made you feel. For driving you into his arms…and why shouldn't you? He has everything to offer that I don't. I love you, Christine and it's because I love you that I vow to take you back to him."

"What makes you think I want to go back?" her response caught me off guard.

"You cried for him…"

"I cried for my missing angel. You were once all that mattered to me and then everything changed. You changed."

"But you said you'd marry him."

"Only because I thought you didn't want me. You left, Erik. For six months you were gone. I was devastated. He picked up the pieces of my broken heart and gave me a small piece of happiness."

I was stunned. I saw my actions through her eyes. I was a monster, it was a miracle that she had not run off and married the boy already, but there was one vital point that still needed addressing.

"Not want you? Oh, Christine…" I knelt at her feet, not caring at the cold that now seeped through my trousers and chilled my bones. "I am not worthy of you, I am a monster…"

"You're a man," she replied, pulling me up. "You hurt me when you say that word. I never want to hear you say it again, never." And with that she kissed me, sealing those words and it was the most beautiful moment of my life.