Surprise

Though Emberline attempted to appear unbothered, her hands trembled and her breath became uneven. Standing in the corridor, her eyes were fixed on the door behind which muffled voices seemed to argue.

The tranquil silence of the room was rattled once the Professor entered. Afterward, a hushed conversation filled the halls, with voices talking over each other until they became inaudible.

"He won't do it again!" Eva's voice was the only one that made sense once the silence settled in the room, yet it still seemed distant. Emberline stood directly outside the door, her eyes fixated on the dull mahogany door as if the scratches on the wood were scripture.

"He better not," a grim and unlikely voice retorted. It was certainly not Nicholas, who remained the calmest in the argument and had a deeper voice from what she remembered. His words seemed to settle the debate. After a few seconds of silence, with a single pull, the door flew open, revealing a middle-aged man, his hat slightly askew, and his characteristic thick black beard making his presence evident. The Professor wore a dark grey coat that blended well into the walls. It was such a sudden appearance that Emberline had no time to turn away. Through the open door, she felt Eva's eyes set on another entity that was outside her frame of perception. She was so occupied that she didn't notice Emberline's figure as Charles closed the door.

"What do you want?" the professor snatched her attention. The ingenuine puzzled look on his face startled Emberline. She went still for a few moments, perplexing the professor, who bore a sour expression. He furrowed his brows, concentrating on what she had to say next, his eyes trailing down from her eyes to her throat as she gulped, which made Emberline even more nervous. His gaze clung to her exposed skin, and she couldn't help but feel itchy wherever it hovered.

"I was— I was looking for Eva," she excused, her voice trembling before Charles, and her eyes traveled up to his. He was tall but hunched, his dark blue pupils pulsating rhythmically, almost synchronizing with his heartbeat.

"Learn to knock," he said as he turned away from her, leaving her standing still in the corridor, contemplating the insult in a light manner. It was only when she understood the jab, her eyes ran behind him, eyeing his shrinking frame down the tall corridors.

"Goofy imbecile," she muttered. Her vocabulary for insults was vast, and it was undeniably because of her father. She returned her attention to the door, where the muffled sound of Eva and Nicholas seemed to crescendo into another fight.

"I told you not to do any such thing!" the wise old woman shouted at him.

"That's the last thing you should be worried about; if anything, he did it to himself," Nicholas returned, calm about the matter. His voice was soft but harrowingly deep, like a buzzing bee.

"When will you stop making such excuses and learn to apologize to him? He has been nothing but nice to you, and— and you have done nothing but embarrass him—" Eva spoke staunchly, but her monologue was rudely interrupted by Nicholas.

"If you think I owe anything to that bumbling idiot, then you are mistaken, and as for the embarrassment he has to endure, I am sure you would be better suited not to talk about it, since all he has ever done is embarrass you. He has made you run after him cleaning his mess as he goes and issues the next update of his affairs—"

"Tame your foul tongue!" Eva said, silencing Nicholas indefinitely. "Charles has been upright and honest with me about his habits, and he has promised to be honest in his duty and never have an affair that could land him in trouble—"

"Eva, honestly, how stupid do you think I am?" Nicholas scoffed, dragging on each word as though it bore heavy baggage.

"Very stupid," Eva responded, her words landing in Emberline's ears like a drum.

"Well then, I doubt you'd like to stay in my company for much longer," he said. Emberline heard the rustle of cloth and a loud 'thunk' of metal. The growing silence made it obvious that Eva was not going to protest his exit. She was not hoping to be seen anytime soon, though her shoes made it impossible to leave without making a noisy show. Instead, without attempting to make a silent exit, she powerwalked to the opposite end of the hallway and into another room.

As she rested on the wall of the room, her chest began to feel crowded, not because of the quick getaway she had just made, but because of the closing gap between the sound of his shoes and her place behind the wall. It was only until the sound of his footsteps faded that she exhaled, her stomach queasy at the thought of the encounter.

Emberline was scared.

There was a growing fear that she knew she couldn't face. Her breath quickened, and she nibbled on her lips until her jaw hurt.

But it was all avoidable if she could just secure another job.

Henry sat on the chair with his hair roughed up, his battered cheek swollen, and his eye socket purple from the beating he had endured. His eyes, though, remained sharp, locked onto the man who paced ceaselessly before him, his gaze unwavering.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the tension between them hung thick in the air. Henry's hands, bound tightly behind his back, offered him no solace, no means of defense. Yet, his very presence exuded a subtle defiance that belied his vulnerable position.

The interrogator snapped at Henry, his impatience palpable. "Are you gonna talk or what?"

Henry's response was laced with languid nonchalance. "What am I supposed to say?" His lazy eye, bruised but unbroken, met Wohler's gaze, a hint of sardonic amusement dancing within.

The room's silence echoed with unspoken threats as if the chair Henry sat upon could sprout claws at any moment. Wohler's anger boiled over as he continued, "I jumped ya, Henry! I mean, I left your face bloody and scratched up!"

Henry's retort dripped with sarcasm, his words honed like weapons. "What am I supposed to make of that, Wohler? You can't put back my pretty face, can ya?"

Wohler's composure wavered, his voice teetering on the brink of breaking as he muttered, "I don't know if I can."

Henry leaned back in the unforgiving chair, a weary resignation settling over him. "Well then, what's all this for? Let me be, and I'll be on my way." His voice, hoarse and strained, carried the weight of fatigue, a silent plea for release from the relentless grip of his troubles.

Wohler cackled, his laughter was electric but momentary. Soon his face was devoid of emotion, and he stared with pure and utter disgust. "So you can leave and then come about with that little pocket rat of yours?" The man shouted, his eyes bulged and pulsated.

"We won't say anything, as long as it doesn't happen again," Henry consoled, his voice strained, but he knew he couldn't guarantee on Nicholas's behalf.

"That doesn't mean horseshit!" Wohler shouted, throwing wads of spits on Henry's face, showing his shiny set of teeth.

"I am a man of my word, Wohler," Henry stared at him through his better eye, but he struggled to keep contact, his sleep was slowly overtaking his conscious self.

"Your man Nicholas is not! He has killed three of my men," Wohler shouted so loudly he felt his veins about to burst.

Henry did not counter the accusation; he simply buried the words before they came out, a secret he needed to keep to himself at this moment.

"He will not do anything, but the second you keep me in this chamber, the more difficult it will be to plead your case," Henry was adamant and diplomatic, his tone was entirely calm, which left the man wondering if he were to be at ease or discomfort at the consolation and threat.

"I need a confirmation, I need a promise, that he will not come after me," Wohler shouted his last few words, complying with the frustration that broiled within.

"You don't need one," Henry said simply, his eyes gazing back at the man who walked in circles and then suddenly stopped at his promenade.

"And why is that?" the man was calm again, his eyes trailed at the bruises that were left on his face, a premonition of the brutality he had to face that day.

"I'll kill him if he does," Henry's prominently hoarse voice echoed in the chamber, meeting the man's eye with shadowed contempt in his heart.

Emberline spent the rest of the day avoiding any work; she would work with the intention of being useful but was never up to the mark, so she decided not to work at all. Most of the time, she would sit by patients and talk to them to appear like she was doing her job in front of Eva, who seemed very lost in thought the entire day.

As soon as she was off duty, she would walk down the hill with Elena and hop into a taxi, one that didn't rattle all the way. Elena would stop the car at a place that was slightly distant from their small apartment, splitting the fare among each other.

Emberline would walk the distance silently while Elena would talk about how exhausting her job was.

"You're so lucky you won't have to do this your entire life, ya know," she would say to Emberline. Emberline didn't have the guts to tell her that, if she couldn't get a job anytime soon, she might have to play the ruse for her entire life.

Emberline would be walking down the alleys until she would see the old Mrs. Marshall walking alone. Her eyes would soften as the old lady greeted her. "Ember! My love, how your presence delights me!" She would roar. The entire street seemed to light up with just her warmth. The old Mrs. Marshall would talk to her about the day, walking down the road and finally standing before her house.

"My daughter-in-law came about; she makes a mean pie. You must come about and try it!" Mrs. Marshall offered, but Emberline knew that for her early morning lunches, she must skip a day of work. "I would love to, Mrs. Marshall, but I doubt I'll have the time to. But I'll be sure to drop by tomorrow," she declined politely. Emberline blushed after seeing the disappointment on Mrs. Marshall's face.

"Oh, what a shame, I do love your company," she said in a low groan. "You make me feel youthful with your company, I must declare!" Mrs. Marshall said unenthusiastically, her eyes falling to her feet as she turned away from Emberline.

Emberline was at the steps of the building she was supposed to enter. The tall three-story building almost glistened, its paint worn out, revealing a smooth layer of cement that had turned into a somber shade of gray amidst the current waves of winter.

She felt bad. Her lips quivered from the cold as the old woman turned away. "I'll see you about," she said as she walked slow, heavy steps down the street. Emberline felt helpless and heartless at the same time. It was as though her heart churned as she saw the old woman walk away defeated.

Her back reminded Emberline of her mother had she gotten old. The thoughts made her gloomy, and she couldn't bear to let her down.

"Mrs. Marshall, would you be free on Tuesday?" Her mouth bickered unprovoked.

The old woman straightened her back, immediately turning to match Emberline's gaze with a twinkle in her eyes. "When is that, dear?" She asked. Her long pleated skirt was drenched in water, her hair stuck out in small strands, and her veins popped out of her hands, but her smile was enough to bring warmth to Emberline's heart.

"Well, tomorrow is Sunday, so two days later?" She concluded. Her age-old eyes flew open, almost in surprise.

"I better start preparing then!" Mrs. Marshall giggled, her demeanor suddenly shifted. It was a sweet feeling that cost Emberline a well-rested afternoon.

She weighed the consequences as she climbed the steps to the building, slowly ascending up the floors before she stood before the oak wood door. She pushed it open, revealing Elena, who was perched over the window looking below at the street she just got back from.

"You feeling okay, Lenny?" Emberline asked as she dropped her bag on the sofa adjacent to the door.

No answer.

"Lenny?" She asked again, only for Elena to look at her with a big smile and a glint in her eye.

"He's here, Emberline!" She squeaked. Though Emberline wasn't the best at idioms and puzzles, it didn't take long for her to piece together what she had meant by that.

She wondered what sort of man could excite her this much. But as she leaned over her seat, she felt her heartbeat in her knees just as it did in the morning.