Marguerite's point of view

My father, Raoul De Chagny, died two years ago. My mother never seemed to get over his death. She had to work two jobs to be able to provide for us. I loved her more than anything, and she felt the same for me. She always seemed upset, although she always hid it around me. Some nights I would find her crying in her bedroom and would hold her until the both of us were asleep.

Usually, I would make dinner for us both so she would have something to eat when she returned home. But tonight she insisted on cooking herself. I did not want to refuse. The two of us sat down to eat.

Christine's point of view

My daughter was the only light in a very dark world. After my husband's death, I was forced to work two jobs every day to be able to provide for us. My husband had left his fortune to my daughter, but she was not allowed to claim it until she was 18. I felt awful for her, being another person who was forced to grow up without a father. She always made dinner for me and herself, and tonight I wanted her to have a break.

The two of us had begun eating when I heard the sound of a knock at the door.