Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

32: Secrets

Nadir smiled fondly at the young woman taking his coat and hat. This was his third visit to his old friend's house, and Erik's charming new wife never ceased to cheer him. How Erik had ever found such an exceptional woman would always baffle him.

Christine made small talk, leading him into the parlor and offering him tea, which he gladly accepted.

"Back again, old man?" Erik's distinctive voice, lowered in mockery, came from the doorway.

"Your house is more interesting than mine, I'm afraid," he replied good-naturedly. "You'll have to get used to me."

"Don't listen to him," Christine said, pouring another cup of tea and holding it out to Erik. "We love having you over. How is the inn?"

Erik took the outstretched cup and sat next to Christine. "Evidently running smoothly enough that he has no need ever to be there."

Nadir added a copious spoonful of sugar to his cup under Erik's disapproving gaze and answered. "Indeed. I have incredibly competent staff."

Christine shook her head at the two men's antics.

Nadir had surprised himself by how fond he had grown of the girl in such a short time. Having no daughters of his own, he had never expected to walk anyone down the aisle at a wedding. After both his wife and son died, he had nearly given up on ever having a family again, but sitting with Erik and Christine rekindled that feeling of warmth that had been absent for years.

She was a source of constant amazement to him. She was one of the most incredible people he had ever met, despite being young and a woman. She was witty, level-headed, and drew from seemingly infinite reserves of patience. He was sure that few others could thrive in the midst of Erik's sea of turmoil; his world was a hurricane of doubt and obsession that would rip all but the strongest people to shreds. But Christine had a calming influence on him. Erik had changed in the time that she'd been in his life, and Nadir liked the changes.

"My dear," Nadir addressed her, "I can't help but notice that your accent has changed." He was only making conversation, but Christine jumped in her chair, nearly spilling her tea at his words.

She looked to Erik as if for assistance, and he merely shrugged. "I can't explain without revealing a bigger secret that I am not ready to quite yet," Christine said slowly. "I ask for your patience. Perhaps someday I will tell you the whole story."

Nadir was more than slightly curious, but what did it matter? He trusted the couple, and they were entitled to their secrets. "Have no fear. I will put it out of my mind."

Christine smiled at him and reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

He gave her hand an affectionate pat before she retracted it, and Erik snatched it back.

...

Christine

I stood in our parlor, a room resembling Erik's study but designed for comfort more than functionality. Bookshelves lined the walls, and several sofas were arranged in a semi-circle around the fireplace. The decor was burgundy and teal. I used the cozy room to read, write, and entertain visitors.

I fingered the spine of a particularly beautiful binding, one whose gold lettering had appeared to transform a few weeks ago. Most of Erik's books reverted to French around the time the general populace did.

It was the middle of the afternoon. My plans with the Girys had been cut short when Meg twisted her ankle and had to be taken home. I had offered to stay with her, but she'd insisted that she would be fine and told me not to worry.