Christine leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, relishing in the sound of hearing him speak on the phone. The house had been so silent for so long. It was a pleasure to hear him speak of even the most mundane things, his voice a gift she would never take for granted again.

He had been back to work for almost two weeks now, though he preferred to work mostly from home, and mostly on the phone. He was still gaining his ability to draw without his hands trembling, and it was understandable that he did not want to be visiting any construction sites any time soon. He had been giving her voice lessons again as well, since a week ago.

Something tugged at the hem of her skirts and she looked down, frowning. Ayesha stared back up at her and blinked, reaching her paw out to snag her claws on the fabric once more. Christine grabbed her skirt and shook it out, scaring Ayesha away temporarily, but the cat was undeterred for long.

"Ayesha, stop," Christine whispered at her.

The cat let out a high pitched meow that lasted far longer than she thought cats even could meow. Christine could not help but notice that the animal had become very chatty after her own voice lessons had started, and though she knew it was absurd, she couldn't help but wonder if the cat was competing with her somehow.

"Stop that!" Christine was dismayed, glancing at the room where Erik was on the phone.

Ayesha marched up and down the hallway, continuing to meow.

"He's on the phone, stop!" She hissed.

Ayesha skittered down the hallway and Christine huffed. She lingered a few moments longer to listen to more of Erik's conversation before pulling herself away and heading for the living room to finish dusting.

But even in the midst of her chores, she soon found Ayesha was not done being troublesome. All day long the little beast had been following her and meowing, swatting her paws at her ankles, and being a tripping hazard in general. While the cat was not being overtly violent to her as in the past, Christine was still frustrated that she would give her no peace.

After finding Ayesha underfoot yet again and almost falling to the floor because of her, Christine could finally take no more.

"What!" She cried, throwing her hands up. "What is it you want?"

Ayesha only gave her an innocent look before trotting to the front door and scratching on it.

Christine narrowed her eyes at the scene. Erik never let the cat out of the house, at least not that she was aware of. She shook her head and turned, but Ayesha remained, clawing at the door and beginning to wail.

Christine could not stand the terrible noise. She plugged her ears as she walked back to the front door, scowling at how Ayehsa was leaving claw marks in the wood. She unlocked the door and opened it, Ayehsa quickly taking her opportunity to escape out into the world.

Christine felt a pang of regret as she watched the cat run off. Would she come back? Had she just lost Erik's beloved cat? But surely the little beast would return at some point. She hadwantedto go outside. And now she was. She would get bored and come back home eventually.

Christine closed the door and returned to her own chores around the house. She almost forgot about Ayesha until later that afternoon when Erik finally retired from his office and came to see what Christine was up to.

"Do you want to go for a walk today, my dear?" He asked absentmindedly, looking at the clock on the wall.

"That would be lovely, Erik."

She left the never ending house chores for an other day and followed him outside to enjoy the warm weather. They walked for a short time, just long enough to alleviate the stiffness in Erik's back and before the soreness set in too much. It was as they walked back up the sidewalk to the front door that Ayesha made her return, appearing out of one of the bushes in the garden.

She looked up at Erik and meowed, swishing her tail.

Erik's face fell.

"What are you doing out here!" He cried, stooping down to scoop her up in his arms. She looked adoringly up at his anguished face, placing a paw on his mask. "How did you get out here?"

Christine bit her lip, trying to decide if she should say anything. She was going to leave the matter well enough alone but Erik turned to her and caught her guilty eyes with his gaze.

"How did she get outside? Did she slip out as we left?"

"Erm," Christine fidgeted a little. "No. I let her out earlier. When—"

His eyes narrowed.

"What?" He demanded. "You let her out?"

"She wanted to be out, Erik, and I wanted her out off the way as I was cleaning—"

"She's not supposed to go out!"

"I didn't know!" She protested, not entirely truthfully. Yes, she had never seen Erik put her outside, but that didn't necessarily mean she was not allowed to go out—or at least, she hadn't beentoldto never let Ayesha out.

"I can't believe you did this!" He said, the disappointment in his voice making Christine's heart sink.

He turned away from her and stormed inside the house, letting the door slam behind him. Christine hesitated outside a moment before following him, her shoulders slumped. They had been having such a nice conversation on their walk, too, about the weather and the flowers and the garden. Now that was all behind them.

"Do you want chicken for dinner?" She asked, but her words received no reply.

She headed down towards his room, where he was surely holed up, pouting.

"I'm thinking of a nice soup," she said loudly, but there was only silence. She huffed and rolled her eyes.

It turned out to be a very lonely dinner for one that night. Erik did not join her. She ate her chicken by herself and cleaned up by herself. It was not until much later, when she was sitting alone in the living room, trying futilely to read a book, that Erik appeared.

"Oh," he said when he saw her looking up at him. "I thought you were already asleep in your room." He tried to avoid her eye as he picked a book off the shelf for himself.

She huffed.

"I'm sorry, you know. About the cat." She tossed her book onto the couch cushion next to her. "I know you worry about her but she's fine."

He gripped his chosen book, his jaw tightening.

"Any number of things could have happened to her," he said. "She could have been stepped on by a horse. She could have gotten attacked by a dog. Some brute could have swatted at her with a broom, or thrown a rock."

"But Erik! She didn't! She didn't get stepped on or attacked or swatted! She's fine!"

"Yes, but there's one thing she might have encountered that you haven't considered."

"Which is?"

Erik paused in the doorway as he prepared to retreat back to his own room. He glanced back at her disdainfully.

"Tomcats," he said simply, then left.

When his meaning finally sank in, her jaw dropped. She jumped up off the couch and ran to her own room. Swinging the door wide open, she peered into the dark room only illuminated by the hallway light pouring in from behind her.

Ayesha was there on Christine's bed - or Ayesha's bed, as the cat still apparently thought of it - curled up in the blankets she had gathered into a pile.

Christine scowled at her, pointing an accusing finger. The cat met her gaze, unblinking. A long moment passed, both of them looking at the other with recognition and contempt.

At last Ayesha looked away, aloof, and she laid her head back down on her paws in the perfect picture of sleep, but Christine had the sneaking suspicion that the cat was only pretending to sleep. Christine shook her head and retreated to the living room once more. She was feeling stupid, but she had no one but herself to blame. She only hoped Erik was wrong, because the last thing she wanted was five tiny Ayeshas running around the house, tripping her, clawing at her, biting her.

The next day Erik seemed to be less frosty with her, though Christine still felt awkward about it. The best thing, she decided, was to make herself scarce for a little while.

"I'm going out to meet Meg," she told him right after breakfast.

"Oh?"

"Mmhm. You know she found a side job singing in a little cafe? It's just down the street, actually. Twice a week she sings during dinner."

"Oh. Have you ever thought about doing that?"

Christine paused, uncertain.

"It might be a good way for you to get back into it all, if you wished. If you missed singing for other people," he continued.

She bit her lip, worrying at it with her teeth. Truth be told, shedidmiss singing. She may have sung around the house, but that could never be the same as singing under the lights of the stage, in front of an audience. She didn't realize until after he had posed the question to her just how much she missed it. Perhaps she had been trying to ignore it all this time, afraid to want something that could never again be, but now the question was out there, in front of them both, and it needed an answer—an answer she already knew in her heart.

"You think I could?" She asked.

"I wouldn't see why not." He shrugged. "Your voice is at least as good as it was when you were in the chorus at the Garnier."

Her hand floated absentmindedly to her throat, resting there as she considered.

"Besides," he added, his voice suddenly and unexpectedly kind. "Surely you long for doing something other than cleaning the house all day and buying groceries."

"I like cleaning," she said. "I like shopping."

"And you love singing, yes?"

"Yes…"

"Something to keep in mind, I suppose," he said. "You don't have to if you aren't interested."

"I'll—I'll think about it," she said carefully as she excused herself, leaving for the day.

Erik's words and her own wants echoed in her mind as she walked to the park to meet Meg. The thought, now that it had been acknowledged, would not leave her alone. She desperately wanted his opinion to be true, but part of her was still scared that everything she'd been through had left some kind of permanent damage and she would never be able to compare to what she used to be.

She ended up confiding her thoughts in Meg as they walked by the river, finally unable to hold them back any longer, especially not after Meg asked what was keeping her from focusing on their conversation about the latest opera house gossip.

Meg only smiled in reply. The conversation turned, Christine quickly changing it to avoid having to acknowledge that she was hoping for something more in her life.

They parted with a hug and a promise to meet up again soon.

Christine stopped in a bakery on the way back, getting a few sweets to take home. She felt happy after seeing her friend, but a little wistful too. Maybe it was better to put all that behind her and look only to the future now. She had been, briefly, one of the brightest stars, and then, just like that, she had faded out of sight. Perhaps it wouldn't do to dwell on the past.

She arrived home, calling out her return as she closed the door behind her. Erik answered from his office, and Ayesha stared at her a moment before swishing her tail harshly and walking away.

Christine put the box of sweets in the kitchen and could hear Erik coming out to see her, but suddenly the phone rang. He hesitated, then returned to his office to answer it.

"Christine," he said loudly. "It's for you."

She blinked, confused. Who was calling for her? She hurried to his office and took the phone from him, holding the receiver up to her ear.

"Hello?" She said, her voice uncertain.

"Christine, are you busy Saturday night?" Meg asked.

She blinked. Saturday night?

"No," she said. "I don't think so. Why?"

"Well, one of the girls who I've been singing with at the cafe is sick and not able to show up for her regular show. The cafe owner was asking us if we had any friends who could fill in for her. Are you interested?"

"What!" She flashed a look of shock at Erik, who was trying—and failing—to pretend he wasn't listening.

"It's just for this Saturday," Meg explained. "But you know, I heard him talking about wanting to bring in more variety, so I bet if you were good and well received, you could go ahead and be one of the regulars too!"

"Oh, Meg! Are you serious?"

"Yes! And you better show up on time, I vouched for you! Anyway, I've got to go now. I'll see you Saturday night, right? Eight in the evening, don't be late now!"

The phone clicked and went silent as Meg hung up. Christine fiddled with the receiver a moment before hanging it up, her palms starting to sweat.

The silence hung in the air between them, Erik about to give in and ask what her friend had said, having only heard the slight muffle of her voice on the other end. But before he got a chance to ask, Christine launched herself at him, throwing her arms over his shoulders in a tight and unexpected embrace.

His breath caught in his throat at the sudden contact, but he didn't hesitate to return the embrace, his arms going around her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, relishing the feel of her hair under his hand. He hoped she could hear or feel how fast his heart was beating.

She was saying something, and distantly his mind recognized that he needed to acknowledge this fact.

"Hmm?" He managed, trying to focus.

"You'll help me, won't you?" She asked, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

"Of course," he replied immediately. "With—?"

"With picking some songs!"

"Yes, absolutely! For…"

She laughed as she pulled back from him.

"I just told you! For the cafe on Saturday! Meg said I can sing with her!"

"Oh! Yes, yes. We can find you something that will impress your audiences, I'm certain." He fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt, hoping that she didn't notice the color and warmth creeping into his cheeks. He could still feel the ghost of her touching him, pressed against him. He quickly turned and pretended to be busy with something on the bookshelf behind him.

"Thank you, Erik," she said, clasping her hands together. "I so appreciate it!"

Christine felt like she was floating on a cloud the rest of the week. Erik helped her pick out a few pieces and practice them. Ayesha stared at her with round eyes and flattened ears as she sang. Erik assured her she was ready to perform, yet she couldn't help but feel the electricity of her nerves, the flutter of the butterflies in her stomach.

So much seemed to depend on this going well. Shewantedto be a performer again, even if it was only at a cafe. She wanted something to look forward to other than the cycle of domesticity, even if there was nothing wrong with her current life. But more than that, she wanted to start earning her own money again.

She knew Erik had spent much of his savings already. She had kept a close eye on the finances, handling the books and accounts while he was recovering, and she had become quite adept at economizing and saving where she could. But no amount of saving could compare with actually earning. And now that Erik was becoming more independent, there might come a day when they chose to live apart, and she would need her own income to survive on, her own way of bringing in a salary. Even if they did still live together—a situation neither of them had thought to discuss yet, though surely it must have occurred to both of them that they were an unmarried couple living in the same house—she still wanted to be able to contribute to the household monetarily. It shouldn't be entirely on him to earn a living for them both, not at his age and after everything they'd been through.

Singing at the cafe could change all that, if the customers and the cafe owner liked her. She wasn't used to singing the type of music that was popular in cafes—Erik didn't particularly care for it, and it wasn't exactly opera, but it did bring in money. She only hoped that he wouldn't think she was squandering her talents or worse by accepting the job. Christine Daae, former opera star, current cafe singer. But so far he had only been supportive of her in this venture, and it gave her hope.

Saturday rolled around and she dressed in one of her finest dresses, anxiously fretting over her hair even though Erik kept telling her she looked fine, not seeming to understand that she wanted to look more thanfine. At last he pulled her away from the mirror with a warning that they would be late, and she rushed to the front door, waiting for him to catch up.

"I said wemightbe late, I didn't say wewerelate," he chuckled.

They arrived at the cafe with plenty of time to spare, Christine anxiously mingling with the musicians and other performers of the night while Erik went and sat in the corner at the back of the room. Christine had insisted that he come along with her, the only thing making her more nervous than him being there to watch and listen to her was the thought of himnotnot being there—and she didn't want to imagine him ever not being there.

Meg was waiting for her, and Christine gave her a hug as soon as she saw her.

"Thank you," she whispered to her friend. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Meg only laughed.

"You think I did this just for you? Maybe I wanted to be able to talk with my friend about more than washing dishes again!"

Christine giggled, her nerves starting to melt away.

Meg was the opening act, and Christine was meant to join her in a duet for her second song. For a brief moment, she was afraid she'd open her mouth and nothing would come out.

But she looked across the room as Meg tugged her forward into the spotlight, and her eyes met Erik's from at the very back corner. He believed in her, and that was enough.

She sang.

She sang beautifully, as if all the emotions that had been pent up inside of her for the last few years were finally free. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it until she was right there, in the middle of it.

When it was over, the applause from the audience made her cheeks burn. She took her bow, unable to stop grinning as she skipped off the little stage area, allowing the other singers to take their place.

The cafe owner was waiting to talk to her. He complimented her and told her she was more than welcome to come sing any night she wished. She thanked him and looked for Meg, who was talking to another man in the corner. But before she could approach them, someone stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and found she had an admirer from the audience.

It was a man just a little older than her, holding a flower out to her sheepishly.

"As soon as I heard you sing I knew I had to meet you," he said with a grin. "And I had to get you this."

"You left my performance to buy a flower?" She teased, taking it from him.

"It's from out front," he gestured to the front of the cafe, where just outside the door sat two large barrels with assorted flowers growing in them. "Don't tell management."

Christine laughed.

"Thank you, monsieur!"

"Of course! I've never seen or heard such beauty anywhere. Are you—are you with anyone tonight?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you here with anyone?" He clarified. "Are you going home with anyone tonight, or are you free for the evening?"