NOVEL NEXT Chapter 32: Fear
The sun hovered low, its light scattering across the earth like the final breaths of a weary traveler. Emberline felt the weight of it, the way it stretched the day thinner than it had a right to be. She wished, not for the first time, that time could be halted—frozen at the edge of this moment. Nicholas sat beside her, his silhouette solemn, answering only when prompted, his words sparse as though he were rationing them.
“You’re not as dreadful as you look, Mr. Vials,” she ventured, her breath rising like wisps of smoke into the biting air.
He turned toward her, his gaze heavy with something she couldn’t quite place. “I don’t try to be dreadful.”
It was weariness that lingered in his voice, she decided. Not apathy, though it came close. His reply seemed more affronted than amused, a veiled rejection of her attempt at friendship. “You’re not very good at trying,” she said softly, lowering herself to sit beside him on the cold, uneven ground. The words felt like an offering, though she couldn’t say why.
He sighed, his apology barely a whisper. “I’m sorry you think so.”
There was a subtle sound. It came from the room directly opposite Nicholas’s. It was an odd feeling to hear any noise in this place, usually empty of any and all people. Now, today of all days, he had company—multiple at that.
His resignation left her fumbling for connection, as though their conversation was a rope slipping through her hands. “Nicholas,” she said again, this time without formality, as though the absence of his title might summon something warmer. “Is something wrong?”
Nicholas stood from the floor, the cloth of his pants clinging weakly to the splinters of the wood beneath him. He walked toward the door, casting a subtle glance at the man who was walking around the room with the door ajar.
“Is that a neighbor?” she asked.
“No, I’ve never seen him,” he replied, carefully examining the man, who walked rhythmically, taking calculated steps around as if to measure the space.
“Nobody ever comes here to rent,” he mumbled to Emberline.
“I see why,” she said, casting a glance around the place. It was on the verge of falling apart. One could hear a whisper from the apartment across.
“Not happy about sharing the view?” she asked.
“Hardly much to see,” he replied as he strained to make sense of what was being said, although each word became difficult to make out as the man walked farther away.
“With you living here, I doubt many get a good impression,” Emberline said, her tone laced with a sort of resentment in retort to what he had just insinuated.
Nicholas chuckled. “I like the silence that comes with it,” he murmured, his attention still fixed elsewhere.
“Do you think his murderer ever came by?”
Nicholas looked at her as if she had struck him, his lips parting as though he would reply, but he said nothing.
“I only wondered,” she began, “because you stay here. But surely, he must’ve come around. Maybe you stay here with such fears in mind.”
He paused, shutting the door with a solid thud, and when he finally spoke, his voice was stripped bare. “I don’t fear it. I would very much hope for his arrival, but he won’t. I know it. He’s a coward, whoever it is. He killed a drunk man; he closed the book before its story was done.”
“You sound so sure of yourself,” Emberline retorted, her tone rising. “But how do you know he’s a coward? Maybe he’s watching you right now. Maybe he’s the one waiting for you to make a mistake.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened, his gaze flitting briefly to the door. “If he’s watching, then he’s still a coward. He could kill me if he wanted to. But for that to happen, he’d need courage.”
Her laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “You’re deluding yourself if you think courage is the only thing keeping him at bay. You act like you’re untouchable, but you’re not.”
His reply was slow, deliberate. “He could kill me,” he repeated, his tone quiet but unyielding. “Once I am gone, there will be nothing left to fear. The earth will consume me, and even that will pass unnoticed.”
“That’s not bravery,” she snapped. “That’s just giving up. You talk about fear as though it’s some noble burden, but it’s not. It’s a parasite. You let it sit there, festering, until it eats you alive.”
Nicholas regarded her with a faint, tired smile. “And you think ignoring it will save you?”
“I think fighting it will,” she shot back. “You talk like you’ve already lost. Maybe that’s why you’re still here—”
“Nothing kills fear. If you love anything at all, you will fear it.”
“You fear a great many things,” she said simply.
His reply was a soft exhale, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. “I do,” he admitted at last as he moved past her. “More than I should, perhaps. I fear the vastness of the sea, its indifference to the men it drowns. I fear the false charity of the rich and the despair of the poor. I fear ignorance. The things I fear are too many to count—”
She drew near, leaning forward as though to catch the truth before it escaped him. “Your fears are known to all?”
He shook his head, the ghost of a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “People, by their very nature, are drawn to conflict with those who exude boldness, as though the mere sight of courage in another stirs a hidden resentment in their souls. I have learned this truth not from books or idle contemplation but from a wound. I have been shot—just once, not many times—but it served as a grim reminder of the cost of seeming brave.”
She tilted her head, curiosity lighting her features. “Not everyone is waiting to pounce on your weakness—not unless you have something to hide,” she added.
“Rich coming from you, isn’t it?” he asked, his gaze sharpening.
“And why is that?” asked Emberline defensively. Nicholas watched as she suddenly stood erect, as if ready to pounce.
“Because you are a woman, and in that lies both your burden and your strength, Emberline. The world expects you to stand quietly, though your heart may burn like a wildfire. But your fear comes to your aid. When men fear, they charge headfirst into impending danger.”
“Fate favors courage” she said, her words pulling her closer to the edge of his thoughts.
“Courage is concealed fear. One who is fearless does not merely provoke admiration or disdain but draws to himself the full malice of those who cannot abide his defiance. In their envy and their hatred, they conspire. Nothing enrages the feeble-hearted more than the strength they dare not possess.”
Emberline tilted her head, her curiosity unrelenting. “It’s easier said, Nicholas, but nobody wants to surrender to their fears, even if you believe it to be a weakness itself. It’s rational to rid yourself of it,” she said, her tone pointed, though the meaning was clear—she meant herself.
Nicholas regarded her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Fear is a burden to be borne, not a wonder to behold. A man's boldness isolates him, makes him a target. He is judged not by the fire in his soul but by the ashes he leaves behind because that’s his metric. And if I am to be honest, I am not fond of it.”
The weight of his words silenced Emberline, her thoughts spinning too quickly for speech to catch up. She felt the enormity of his confession, its stark truth settling over her like the chill of the room. Nicholas seemed content with the quiet, his face a mask of calm, though she wondered what storms lay behind it.
He glanced toward the window, where the fading light surrendered to night. “It’s getting late,” he said, his tone signaling an end to their conversation.
Emberline straightened, her chest tightening with disappointment. Was it her comment? Or had he simply tired of her company? “Ah, so it is,” she replied, forcing a brightness into her voice that felt false even to her own ears.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the room holding its breath. Emberline searched for a parting word, something to reclaim the connection she felt slipping through her fingers. But Nicholas, ever guarded, said nothing more. He stood, his movements slow, gesturing toward the door.
“If you wish,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle, “I could walk you to your door.”
She rose, brushing herself off, and hesitated. “I would like that very much,” she replied with a smile.
He pulled the door open just enough to meet the man’s eyes. The stranger froze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the two stared at each other, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.
“Can I help you?” Nicholas asked, his voice calm but sharp.
The man’s lips twitched, almost a smile, before he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Emberline let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “He’s not just some stranger, Nicholas. You know that, don’t you?”
Nicholas shut the door, his expression unreadable. “I know.”
Emberline hoped to talk to Nicholas, but he did not utter a word. She wanted him to speak, to say something more, something provoking, even at the expense of her silence. Instead, he remained quiet, his face bearing a look of wonder, as if lost as ever in a sea of his innermost thoughts. He had captivated her; that much was evident, but he could not afford to reel her in any longer.
But she was somewhat relieved that he was present, because as much as she pretended not to be bothered by it, the gaze of the man from the window made her worry.
As she stepped into her building, she stole one last glance back, hoping for something—a look, a word, even a flicker of hesitation. But he had already turned away, his back to her, and his thoughts a thousand miles beyond her. His faint smile was replaced by a look of worry, his eyes feigning a disturbance that she could not quite decode.
As he walked away, she felt true fear on his behalf. She didn’t know if he would be safe; her heart jumped, and she could not bring herself to look away.