Pause
Some time after Christine leaves with Raoul.
Blanket disclaimer.

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She didn’t sing anymore. Sometimes she would hum, so faint and tragic Raoul was certain listening to it could break even the strongest of hearts.

She did this only when she was alone; when she was convinced her husband lay asleep in their bed (she didn’t realize he could never sleep without her delicate body curled against his). So Raoul would lay awake, listening to the fragile melody.

Sometimes she would pause, just for a moment, as if waiting for a second voice to join in harmony.

Tonight was no different. She sat at her dressing table, gazing at her reflection, humming the soft tune. But this time Raoul slipped out of bed and stood behind her, seemingly unnoticed. And when she paused he began to hum.

She jumped at this, as if his voice had lifted her from some trance. Her eyes lit up for the briefest of moments, before settling on his. She smiled weakly, and Raoul tried to ignore the flash of disappointment in her eyes.

He never joined her again. It was not his voice she paused for.