The only sign she had seen him, was a very, very slight stutter in her words as she sung, her eyes fastened to his box for a longer then normal moment, before she returned her head to the opera, easily falling back into the character, praying for the scene to end.
As soon as it did, she was gone, backstage, around the opera house, a cloak around her to hide her dress and made her egress easier as she kicked off her heels, running up the stairs to his box, not even bothering to knock as she crashed in silently, almost tripping over a chair before kneeling at his feet, her hands on his thighs, staring intently up at his face.
“Erik?” she breathed, keeping her voice soft so as not to interrupt the opera still being performed, but also disbelief. She had left him passed out in the sitting room, days of being at his side wearing on her.
Where as before she had been visibly done in by sleepless nights, his illness had given even more signs of her own dis-care, heavy make-up barely hiding the shadows under her eyes, the lines on her face. She was thinner from not eating and being up four days straight, and most noticeable...she was pale, her anemia left uncared for as she nursed him, leaving her blood to poison her body without paying attention.
“You shouldn't be up yet, Erik...you should be resting,” she added, frowning at him.