I don´t own POTO; just borrowing the characters.

Christine Daaé balanced two bags of groceries against one hip as she groped for her house keys. She could hear the faint noise of the television; Raoul was home, then, she thought, and she sighed in relief. She would have dinner on in an hour, and since she had the night off, perhaps she and Raoul would have some quiet time alone, then some intimate time.

Perhaps she had a chance to win back his love.

As she made her way through the door and into the kitchen, she thought of the irony of the situation. She had sold herself, really, the day she had let Raoul talk her into moving in with him.

"I love you, Christine," Raoul had said, holding her gently in his arms. "I want us to be together, and I can´t stand the thought of you living alone in that apartment. Anything could happen to you! I´m sure your father was worried about that, too," he added.

Christine had felt the customary pang at the mention of her father. It had been six months since his death, and the pain had not lessened as she had hoped it would. She had spent so much time caring for him during the last six years. James Daaé had been in and out of the hospital so many times, and Christine had taken so much time off to care for him, especially when he had finally entered the hospice, that she had forgotten about herself completely. When her father died, she felt as if she had lost the most important battle of her life. She had looked in the bathroom mirror when she finally left his side, and she could hardly say who the person was who had looked back at her, or what her life – alone, with nobody to care for – might be.

"My father didn´t have enough strength to worry about anything but his own fight at the last, Raoul," Christine had replied with a sad smile. Then she had gathered her thoughts.

"You know, Raoul, I always thought it best that a couple should get married before they move in together. I´m old-fashioned, maybe, but I´ve always felt that that was what was right -- for me, at least."

It went even deeper than that for Christine. She had been so involved with her father´s troubles over the past few years, that she had not been involved with boys – at all. She had graduated high school, and now was in her junior year at university, with her virginity intact – a shameful situation, socially, wherever men were concerned. When Raoul had reemerged in her life several months earlier, she had been ecstatic that someone who finally understood her – they had been children together, after all – was now in her life. Raoul had been everything to her after her father´s death – he was everything that was warm, kind, and caring. He and Christine had become inseparable, and yet he never had pressured her. And now he was asking her to live with him.

"Christine," Raoul had replied, after seeming to consider her misgivings, "You know that you and I are forever. You know that. I would never leave you. You know that, too. Our love is stronger than any promises or any piece of paper! Anyway, we can go through the marriage thing in a few years, when we´re ready. With you still in school now and me with a brand-new job it´s just not practical. But I need you to be with me now, I really do, and you know I´ve really been patient, honey, so far…"

And Christine, frightened of losing Raoul, had agreed to move in with him.

Raoul came into the kitchen to get a beer just as Christine was putting the chicken into the oven.

"Hey," he said, as she hurried over to kiss him, "I didn´t hear you come in, honey. How´s it going?"

"My classes went fine," she said, after a moment´s hesitation. She wasn´t sure how much she could tell Raoul at such a delicate point in their relationship. So strange: when they had only been dating, she had been able to talk with Raoul about anything, or so it seemed. Now, she was frightened to talk about the increased role her voice tutor had claimed in her life, and how very strange her voice classes had become. Raoul wouldn´t want to hear about her issues – he was working hard to adapt to his new job and social pressures. She knew he was also working hard to resist the pressure from his family.

"So, you may be living with Christine, but she doesn´t own you, bro," Phil had said the first time he had visited. He had been trying to convince Raoul to hit the town with Tracy, Chelsea, and himself. Christine had to go to work that evening – how convenient for you, Phil, she had thought to herself. Phil did not intend his conversation with Raoul to be overheard by Christine, but he did not care if she could hear it, either. Christine arranged four beers and chips and dip on a tray and struggled through the kitchen door with it.

"Hi, I´m Christine," she said, as she offered the beers to Tracy and Chelsea.

"Oh, uh, yeah…This is Tracy, my girlfriend, and this is her friend, Chelsea," said Phil, remembering his manners as he turned to collect his beer. Tracy and Chelsea broke off their conversation, smiled sweetly at Christine – "Oh, hiyee!" But it took all of one second for them to gaze appraisingly at Christine, taking in her hair and her clothes, then to dismiss her as they turned to continue their intimate chat together. I´m not here; I don´t exist, thought Christine with a touch of bitterness. Tracy and Chelsea were a superior species, she knew. Both were in sororities, both wore expensive clothes, with hairstyles and highlights which cost a fortune by Christine´s standards. She knew without asking that both Tracy and Chelsea had cars given to them by their fathers – the only question was whether the brand was BMW or Mercedes. She glanced at the girls´ manicured nails, and felt ashamed of her own. But she was a pianist, for gosh sakes, so she couldn´t even consider having nails like those! Speaking of which, she was going to be late to work.

"Look, Raoul, I´ve got to go now," Christine said then, adding, "Go on and have fun if you´d like. I´d hate for you to miss out just on my account." She was aware of a swift, calculating glance from Chelsea as she said that, but she managed to ignore it with aplomb.

"Honey, I just don´t want to go with them," Raoul responded with a good-natured smile. "Nice try, bro," he said as he turned to Phil, "But I´m staying home tonight."

"A regular hearth-rat," sneered Phil. He didn´t even glance at Christine.

"Yeah, a regular hearth-rat," agreed Raoul with a grin.

That had been several months ago. Phil continued to visit regularly, alone or with Tracy and Chelsea, but Raoul´s parents never materialized, even though they lived just across town. Christine had encouraged Raoul to invite them to dinner or just for drinks, but the only reaction she received was a nervous change of subject. It was clear to Christine that Chelsea was Phil´s idea of the perfect girl for Raoul, and she surmised that Raoul´s parents agreed with him.

Raoul, who had been so supportive, warm and kind, so quick with a kiss or hug, had gradually lost interest in Christine over the months. It was true his new job at the accounting firm was demanding and he was often tired, but his job and pressure from his family could only account for part of his cool demeanor. I´m like a Victorian parlor-maid, bedded and discarded, thought Christine as she dressed the salad.

As disappointed as Raoul might have been with Christine in the bedroom, Christine was even more dejected. She had expected the first time to be unpleasant – and it certainly was – but she had hoped that things would improve. They had not. Christine blamed herself – she must be hopelessly frigid. However, the voice of reason whispered to her occasionally, and told her that Raoul perhaps did not understand her needs. She knew that he and all the other guys in his fraternity had been into porn, and now she felt that its influence had left Raoul incapable of making love – he could only offer sex, and it was centered on his own needs. Christine had done her best to accommodate Raoul, and she always tried out all the new positions and quirks he wanted her to. She always feigned enthusiasm, but the truth was that sex was just another chore.

And speaking of chores…Christine had quickly realized that she would be the one doing all the cleaning and the laundry. She enjoyed cooking, thanks to her best friend, Meg, but she had hoped not to be doing all of it. Christine was the one who did all the grocery shopping, who pored over the utilities bills and phone bills to correct any errors before she paid her half. She found that the solitary life she had led in her apartment had actually been cheaper and easier than her life with Raoul. It simply never occurred to him to help out with the grocery bill. Thank God he paid his own VISA bills, what with his expensive tastes, she mused. She had spent a great deal of time wondering how he had kept his apartment clean before she came to live with him, and she found out by accident that his parents had sent a maid to sort out his messes once a week; they no longer sent her over, however, when Christine started living with Raoul.

Christine presented dinner as attractively as possible, lit a candle, and called Raoul. He gave her a warm smile and complimented her on her cooking as he ate. After dinner, while Raoul was watching TV, Christine went into the bedroom and took out the sexy negligee she had splurged on. She slipped into it, and checked herself in the mirror. The effect, she decided, was pleasing. She presented herself to Raoul, then, and was rewarded with half an hour of his undivided attention. She dedicated every ounce of energy to pleasing him, and when they had finished, she turned to Raoul. His eyes were closed.

"I love you, Raoul," she said. Please love me back. She waited. Silence. He was asleep.

Christine wept.