Chapter 5: The Taste of Fear

He ushered me inside, settled me into my favorite chair by the window, then brought over a chipped white ceramic bowl filled with steaming pear soup.

The pears were cut into thick chunks, their sweetness thick in the air. But beneath it, I caught a faint, metallic tang, something off—like pond water, like something wild. I knew that smell. It was the cold moth.

"Aubrey, drink it while it’s hot," he said, hovering nearby, voice soft but watchful. "I learned this recipe from Mrs. Carter next door. Don’t know if it’ll be as good as hers."

His words tumbled over each other, nerves wrapped around each syllable. Under his anxious gaze, I picked up the spoon and took a big sip, the heat and sweetness flooding my mouth.

"It’s delicious—fragrant and sweet," I lied, forcing a smile, but my hand trembled so hard I nearly spilled the bowl. The aftertaste sent a shiver down my spine.

Caleb’s eyes darted from me to the bowl, his jaw tight. Then, in a sudden motion, he snatched the bowl away.

"Is it a little cold? I’ll heat it up for you."

He disappeared into the kitchen, shoulders hunched, his tall frame looking awkward and out of place.

He stayed home for three days, though the university only gave him two off every ten. For three days, I drank that pear soup, every bowl laced with the taste of fear and something else.

Before leaving, he cupped my face in both hands, voice thick:

"Aubrey, I’m off to take the exam. Be good and wait for me, alright? When I pass, you’ll be the wife of a scholar."

I nodded, watched him walk away, every step heavy with secrets.

Those three days, I didn’t sleep. I turned every word, every gesture over in my mind, looking for the man I thought I married, and finding only shadows.