A Woman's Devotion (Phantom Of The Opera x Reader)

5. Magical Days

Y/n's POV:

The church bells of St. Louis Cathedral echoed across Jackson Square. Erik and I were now headed to the French Quarter for lunch. That was my favorite part of the city, where almost everybody spoke fluent French, and a semblance of home wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

I walked out of the magnificent chapel, where its towering spires reached the sky. Erik walked beside me in silence. This was wonderful, our new life together. This had been the first Sunday I'd felt well enough to attend church, and my spirits flew high.

 "What did you think of the service?" I asked.

This was also his first time at the church, as he hadn't wished to go without me last week. Due to this, I truly wished to know his opinions on the sermon.

Erik shrugged, his eyes fixed on the street ahead of them.

 "It was nice."

His words were so short that I furrowed my brow.

 "You're usually not this quiet. Did you not like it? I-"

He took my arm, placing it in the crook of his elbow, and guided me forward.

 "No, it isn't like that, Y/n. I found it enchanting, your little rituals. But I must confess that today was my first time ever stepping foot in a church. I was not brought up amidst religion, my dear. My mother herself was distant from your good Lord. You'd probably label her as a blasphemous heretic. Naturally, nobody expected her son to care for the church."

 "And your father? Did he not raise you with the Lord?" I asked, saddened by his story.

 "My mother was a whore. A prostitute."

I blinked, stopping in the middle of our walk. Erik had spoken so bluntly. Maybe he was desensitized to it.

 "I never knew my father." He added, as if I couldn't make that connection.

 "Oh." I murmured.

Even I'd grown noticeably silent. My mother had also been a woman of the night, yes, but I wouldn't dare tell Erik. It was a part of my heritage I still struggled to make peace with.

After a long silence, Erik spoke.

 "But not to worry, my dear. I did enjoy the house of your good Lord. The music was beautiful."

This satisfied me, and as we turned into the French Quarter, other thoughts distracted my mind.

We soon sat down to lunch at an adorable café, and I savored both the food and conversation with Erik.

Perhaps Erik was a coffee shop sort of guy after all.

After lunch, we continued walking. But, when I asked if we were headed home, Erik shook his head.

 "Where are we going then?" I asked, smiling slightly with a bounce in my step.

 "It's a surprise. You'll see."

 "But-"

He pressed his pointer finger to my lips, silencing me with a soft shushing noise.

 "I trusted you enough to reveal my face, so I'm sure you can trust me enough to not question where I'm taking you. Isn't that right?"

I nodded, butterflies swarming my stomach. Even on the bustling New Orleans street, Erik's tone was intimate, and his loving gaze melted into mine.

I tried to strike up conversation a few times, but Erik seemed unnaturally nervous. Eventually, I allowed us to walk in companionable silence. Even then, he fidgeted, his hand slipping in and out of his coat pocket.