The Angel's Shadow || The Phantom of the Opera || Book Two

1. Unwanted Surprises

Chapter One || Unwanted Surprises

"I'm tired, very tired...I've had enough, do you hear? Enough of having a forest in my house, and a torture chamber! Enough of being lodged like a mountebank in a double-bottomed box! I've had enough, enough! I want to have a quiet apartment, with ordinary doors and windows, and a good wife in it, like everyone else! I'd love her, and take her out for a walk on Sunday, and amuse her all through the week." ~ The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

Mélodie

Yawning, I stretched my toes to the foot of the swan bed while my arms reached above my head. For the past few months I have woken up with an ear to ear grin on my face and a warm glow in my chest. Turning my head I looked at the empty pillow beside mine and felt the almost consistent flutter of butterflies in my stomach. Laying on my husband's pillow is a rose and a note with my name on it: Mélodie

Filling my lungs full of the rose's sweet aroma I sat up and read the elegant cursive:

My Angel,

I am sorry I cannot be there to watch you stretch and yawn and pull the sheets from me as you awaken this morning, my love. I have some business to attend to and will be back this afternoon.

I am missing your morning kisses and your smile that never ceases to make my heart melt.

Prepare for a surprise when I return.

I love you, mon ange (my angel).

Your Shadow,
Erik

P.S.
Tell our son good morning for me.

I placed my hand on my stomach and smiled wider. Erik insists that our baby is a son and when I ask him how he is so sure he merely smiles and tells me, "I know these things."

I am the one with the child growing within me and I have no clue what gender it is. I don't even have a clue if said child exists in there. The doctors have told me that I am with child but months have gone by and still no sign of the life form Erik and I had created. Both of us are growing impatient - especially Erik. He says that if our little son (and I say son loosely) doesn't make a form of communication soon he's afraid he will remain silent even after he is born. For a composer like Erik and a singer like me that would surely be unfortunate. Not that we would love our baby any less. Musical talent or not, he - or she - will still be our child, our little bundle of love.

Don't tell Erik this but I find his concern about the baby's possible lack of music ability quite amusing and rather - how do the Americans say? Cute? Yes. Cute.

Pushing the sheets off of me I leapt out of bed, ready to start my day. After brushing my unruly curls I picked out a day dress and pulled it on. No corset ofcourse. I despise those things with a passion. Not only are they uncomfortable but they are terribly restricting when it comes to singing. How am I to carry a note when I have no air in my lungs to carry the note with?

Passing the mirror in our bedroom I stopped. Turning sideways, and then the other way, I examined my stomach. Still nothing. Not the smallest bump is visible.

Patience, Mélodie. Patience.

Walking down the ramp I examined the damage. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Scattered sheet music on the floor, nothing more.

Bending over I began cleaning our place beneath the new Opéra Populaire. Mélodie de l'Obscurité, Merely A Maid, still resides in my body. Mélodie the maid had been who I was when Erik and I first met. And then when Eva, the Opéra Populaire's leading soprano, lost her voice I had sung in her place. Erik's lessons had made my voice beyond ordinary and caught the attention of the Royal Guards who had been searching for me. That was when Mélodie the maid became Mélodie - or Antoinette - the queen. Erik was bound to discover my true identity eventually. I suppose I should have broken the news to him a little more gently.