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

8. In Pursuit of Your Deepest Urge

(A/N: Heads up: this chapter has smut in it! If that's your thing, enjoy. If not, then the scene's fairly skippable, so don't think it's needed to understand the plot; it's only a bonus! We would, however, suggest reading the first half of the chapter, which is plot-essential. Much love, Samantha and Beth.)

Y/n's POV:

A gentle light streamed in through the window, beckoning another day of late April. It tenderly pulled me from sleep and warmed my cheeks. I reached my arms to Erik's side of the bed, only to find cold blankets in his place. I finally opened my clouded eyes and rubbed the sleep from them. In the early morning light, I saw Erik. He paced in a tight circle around our small flat.

"Erik?"

He came to me and loomed over the bed.

"Yes? Are you all right?" He asked.

"Why are you awake?"

"Lost in my musings of disaster, darling."

I sat and puzzled over him for a moment. Musings of disaster? Life seemed decent enough. Why must I always untangle his words to understand his feelings? Why couldn't Erik just speak clearly to me?

"You're worried, then," I finally said, "talk to me. What's wrong?"

Erik sighed and stretched his back.

"Jonvier is a strange man, no?"

The warmth from the sun left me. I stopped, frozen in shock. I brought my knees to my chest and looked down at my striped socks.

"I don't know."

"He is a bit insolent when it comes to you, a married woman."

"That's just how these Americans are: friendly."

"His advances are merely American? My God, what a country!"

At a loss for words, I shrugged.

"It's just their culture."

"Fine! Dismiss my concerns like any dissatisfied wife would! I can leave you here if that's what you'd prefer." He said, his voice sharp and alike to the searing tones of the Phantom.

Tears burnt my dry morning throat. What on earth went through this man's head? More importantly, how was I meant to both endure his tempests and placate them like a devoted wife ought to?

"Where are you getting these ideas from? I love you."

"I hear him talk to you through the door!" Erik neared shouting now. "I know the happenings of your English lessons!"

Anger roiled up inside me. Erik had been eavesdropping, painfully unable to trust me? Who did he really think I was? Better yet, who really was he?

I shut down these bitter thoughts at once. Erik trusted me; Jonvier was the problem, and when I agreed with this, why should I fly into a rage? Even then, I felt the need to defend myself.

"If you've been listening through the door, you know I've done nothing to encourage Jonvier's advances."

Erik's brows were knitted with fury, but then, he sighed with relief at my words.

"Yet you admit some things Jonvier have done put you ill at ease?" He asked, his tone considerably calmer.

Well, I couldn't deny that, and if anything, it was a comfort to finally hint at my silent struggle.

"All right, some things he says are uncomfortable, but we do what we must in this situation, don't we?"

"What we must?" He repeated. "You don't have to learn English. But that's not the principle of it, is it? You are going to run away with him and leave me frigid and desolate to die. I know why you're doing it! Your tricks don't fool me. You could have children with Jonvier. I deny you one thing, and there you go, already scheming my downfall!"