Raoulstine Week 2022 Day 6: Celebration
Think of It (A Secret Engagement)
“May I come in?” Raoul's voice rumbled pleasantly from behind the door. Christine could hear his happiness, which only made the knot in her stomach grow tighter.
“Yes, you may,” she replied absently, folding her fingers over the ring.
Attached to a silver necklace, she couldn't bear to look at it. It was so beautiful. Certainly the most beautiful thing she had ever been given. Its diamond was so clear she could nearly see her face in it, and oh, how it sparkled in the light…
She wished with all her heart she could wear it proudly on her finger, and display it to everyone at the masquerade. But she knew that was impossible.
“I've arranged for a carriage to take us for a ride later. If it is too cold outside, or if you're tired, I can send it back, but I thought you would enjoy it,” Raoul said as he jogged inside. She heard his words but could not for the life of her make out their meaning, her thoughts were so preoccupied.
“Raoul…” she began, but couldn't fathom what to say to him. So she simply looked down at her fist, blinking furiously to keep back tears.
He chuckled, a warm sound from his belly that made it so much harder for her to stay somewhat composed. She glimpsed from the corner of her eye his boyish grin reflected in the mirror. He rested his hands on her shoulders, a gesture so comforting Christine thought she might shatter.
“Tonight will be wonderful. Imagine the looks on Firmin and André’s faces when they hear of our engagement. When they see your ring…” He stopped, finally looking down at her.
“Christine, what's wrong? Where is your ring?”
The whole room seemed to spin around her. In that moment, his questions were drowned out by the Phantom’s vibrato filling her head. So tantalizing, so beautiful, and yet so horrifyingly deafening. A sob escaped her. She could not be wholly present with Raoul. And, of course, she now had to break his heart.
“I-- I'm sorry, Raoul. But I-- I won't be wearing it tonight.”
He said nothing, but took his hands off her shoulders and stepped back. There was tension in the room with them now. There was the Phantom in the room with them now, but sweet Raoul had no idea of any of it.
He cleared his throat, and spoke with quiet reservation that, to Christine, was almost worse than shouting or anger. “And why not?”
She sniffled, then took a deep breath. She needed to be strong, to not raise his suspicion or that of her angel of music.
“I just don't want to right now, Raoul--”
“Why not?” His voice raised in volume, though still he did not yell. She glanced back at him, but darted her gaze away because she couldn't look him in the eye. He was confused, he was hurt, he was betrayed. She saw it all in those youthful eyes she knew so well.
But whatever pain he felt now was worth preventing what the Phantom might do to him, she told herself. She remembered Buquet’s limp body dangling from the ceiling and shuddered. It was strange, how an angel could cause a disaster beyond imagination. And she would do everything in her power to make sure another one did not happen. If only she could tell him how she was just protecting him like he did her.
“You will know soon, darling. You will. But now, let us just go to this party. Please, don't upset me-- I have just washed my face and I wouldn't want to frown any more or make it run with tears. Get dressed, and then we shall make our way to the celebration. Enjoy yourself this evening. For my sake if not your own,” she said, holding her chin up high. Her reflection glared steadily back at her-- resolved and resolute.
He sighed, biting his lip and tugging on his waistcoat jacket. The latter was a tick of his she found quite adorable, but now she paid it no mind. For her strength and her sanity she paid it no mind.
“Alright. I'll see you shortly, Christine,” he muttered, making large, brisk strides to the door that crashed against her ears.
“It’s around my neck, Raoul,” she burst out, standing up and facing him. The chain was heavy and cold.
Colder still was his stoniness.
“It is meant to be worn on your finger,” he replied curtly, shutting the door behind him.
She collapsed onto the floor, her nails digging into the soft loveseat for dear life. The tulle of her joyous pink skirt crumpled around her.
She didn't care if her angel was watching, she didn't care that she had just washed her face and was made to look like a shining star princess. Christine cried, because the last thing she had ever dreamed of was a secret engagement.
