Him.

Chapter VII

In the next week, Philippa got an urgent letter summoning her to her family. Her father was passing on, and with Haya at the house, Erik was forced to stay behind. But, Philippa did take the kids with her so as to assure they saw their grandfather one last time. The woman assured Erik that she would be alright by herself and left him with a quick kiss on his lips.

Erik was able to see the relief from Haya's softened features as his wife left. She looked pleased that the blonde was gone, no more lies to rest between them.

"Erik?" Haya asked that same afternoon.

"Hm?" He replied, their positions in the living room nothing much. Erik was reading a paper on the sofa, and Haya was playing the piano, testing a few new pieces she had thrown together.

"Your wife really does not like me, does she?" She inquired heavily.

They had failed to openly talk about her dislike, and Erik felt guilty for not discussing it sooner.

"As a composer and woman yourself she does... but bigotry lies deep within people like her, and she finds herself incapable of being truly civil. I do apologize for her, however, I was unaware of it until I had fallen in love with her."

Haya shrugged and looked back at her music.

"Would you help me?"

Erik looked up from his paper and raised an eyebrow at the composer, wondering why on Earth she of all people would need help.

"Help? From myself, my dear, you are the composer..."

Erik stood anyways, placing his paper to the side and joining Haya on the piano bench. He tried to keep away from her, but there was that damned feeling between him that pulled him closer to her each and every second he sat close to her. She was just sitting, too, only expecting his help for the time being. Sometimes, though, Erik had trouble believing she only wanted his help. When she would lean down to play a bass chord, she would brush him with her arm, maybe purposefully, maybe not. But he got his answer when they had finally composed a finished song. The work was beautiful, and the two were very proud of their work. Pride was in the both of them, also a factor that kept them apart as a couple.

Erik just did not expect the sudden outburst from his old friend.

"Why her, Erik?"

Confused, Erik replied, "What is your meaning?"

"Why, of all the women on Earth, did you chose her? She...." Haya was flustered, obviously, as she could not finish her sentence with out releasing the frustrated groan.

"She was just there, Haya. As I have mentioned before, I did not know she was a-"

"I do not care what she is, Erik. My question is why not me? What is so valuably wrong with me that you had to go and get yourself some random blonde? I loved you, Erik. Maybe I still do."

Haya had tears streaming down her face, and in their proximity on the bench, Erik wanted to wipe them away and tell her he loved her, too. But he couldn't, and that tiny sliver Haya still held of his heart grew larger, removing some from Philippa's hold.

"I have no answer for you, Haya."

"Of course not," she huffed, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. "I doubt you ever loved me. I think you lied to me all those years ago when my father passed on to sate me. I should have known, all men are bastards."

"No!" Erik interceded quickly, but he realized the trap had snapped on him only after it had killed him.

"Erik!" Haya said ashamedly, looking into the masked-man's eyes.