Later in the night, Neva and Rhett nap beneath the gentle heat of the kotatsu, curled against the creeping chill of fall.
November in the capital of Erriador has always been wintry, even with autumn still clinging to the air.
Neva stirs, her lashes fluttering as she slowly blinks awake. Sleep clings to her thoughts like morning mist.
Through narrow slits, she scans the dimly lit room. Shadows linger in the corners, muted golden light spilling softly from the lamp.
Her eyes settle on Rhett beside her, face tilted sideways, breath slow and even.
He's still asleep—peaceful, smiling faintly, like a boy lost in a dream he doesn't want to leave.
His cheek is pillowed against folded arms atop the white kotatsu cloth.
His eyelashes rest like feathers against his skin.
Suddenly, he mumbles something—inaudible, his voice soft and muffled.
"He's dreaming," Neva whispers to herself with a quiet giggle, the sound melting into the stillness of the room.
She lays her head back down, cheek resting on her arm, her smile lingering.
In the stillness, thoughts drift through her like falling leaves.
Her life... has changed beyond recognition. In just a couple of months, it feels as though her entire world has shifted.
She wrestles with a strange sensation, as if fate has quietly twisted course—as if she's wandered into an alternate universe.
Back in late September, she made a bold decision: she left Aunt May behind and returned to her homeland, Erriador—the place where her earliest memories were born… and lost.
Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined her life would unfold this way.
After the accident that stole her parents—and her memory—her father's only sister and her husband took her in. From that moment on, she was homeschooled, kept hidden from the outside world.
Aunt May loved her deeply, fiercely—but Neva never understood why she was kept in the shadows, as though being seen might unravel her.
For a time, she accepted it. But as she neared adulthood, unease crept in—an anxious feeling that her life was slipping quietly through her fingers.
Each day that turned felt like a page fluttering away, and the warmth, the peace, the belonging she once felt in that sheltered haven with her aunt and uncle began to fade—bleached away by longing.
So Neva made a decision—to move back here, to Erriador, the land where she believed she might find her way home again.
Aunt May allowed her return under one condition: she had to change her name.
And so, Neva Evara Noe became Neva Mae.
She never questioned it. She trusted her.
Now, Neva smiles, grateful.
Grateful to God for the past that shaped her and the courage that led her here.
She has made peace with the past and chosen a fresh beginning.
She longs to discover the world, to understand herself—to taste the sweetness of freedom beyond the walls she once called home.
But most of all, what she's been seeking is a sense of home—a sense of purpose.
And now, this warm space she's adorned as her own gently blesses her with both.
She may not have a wide circle of friends, but she treasures the few connections she's made—especially the man sleeping beside her, whose presence has made this place feel more lived in, more warm, more home to her.
She checks the time on her phone: 11:00 p.m.
Neva looks at Rhett again, he'll end up with a sore neck if he keeps sleeping like that.
She leans in, whispering gently, "Rhett, wake up. Go sleep in your bed."
No response. She clicks her tongue.
She touches his shoulder and gives him a light shake. "Rhett, wake up."
Still nothing.
"Rhett?" she tries again, a trace of worry creeping into her voice.
He remains still as a rock.
"Mmm~" Rhett shifts suddenly, lips curving in a dreamy grin.
"Be mine…" he murmurs, barely audible, eyes still closed.
Neva freezes, her stomach twisting.
Be mine?
Her eyes narrow.
Who is he dreaming about?
Heat rises to her cheeks.
She grits her teeth, silently fuming.
Such a flirt. He flirts with everyone, doesn't he?!
"Rhett! Leave my apartment!" she blurts out.
Rhett jolts upright, blinking blearily. "Huh? Angel?" he mumbles, dazed. "Why are we here? Weren't we… stargazing?"
Her thoughts screech to a halt.
'Oh... He was dreaming about… me?'
Blush creeps up her neck.
She can't believe she got upset over a dream.
Was that—jealousy? Over a dream?
No way!
She pushes the thought away, flustered, and clears her throat.
"Go to bed. Don't sleep here," she says—too quickly, too harshly.
"I fell asleep here?" he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck—eyes clouding with a flicker of sorrow—as though he's mourning the dream he left behind.
Neva only hums in reply.
She remembers—before the nap, she'd told him how much she longed to stargaze in a flower field, surrounded by fireflies.
She chuckles softly and pats his head, tender and fond.
Rhett blinks up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable, the simple touch melting something deep within him.
The dream lingers, weaving itself into the waking world—intensifying his devotion for her, sharpening the ache of his longing.
His heart squeezes, quietly aching for her affection.
And then... without warning, Rhett pulls her into a hug.
Tightly.
As though letting go would undo something sacred.
He buries his face in the crook of her neck.
"Neva, I'm in love with you," Rhett whispers.
Neva's heart skips a beat.
Time moves suspiciously slow, thick and unkind.
Rhett pulls back when she doesn't respond.
He studies her face—blank, unreadable.
His breath hitches as a pang hits his chest.
Could she ever feel the same? Will this dream always remain just that—an illusion?
He smiles, faint and sad, lowering his gaze to his hands in his lap.
Defeated.
The ache in his chest claws at him.
He should leave.
He shouldn't fall apart in front of her.
But he can't move. His legs feel numb.
It hurts too much.
There is a paralysing heaviness in his chest—he can't breathe, he can't think, as though he's sinking into the ocean. It hurts too much—he doesn't even know how he'll survive even a moment if his hope shatters.
He did this to himself—falling for her. So deeply. So helplessly.
Tears burn his eyes. The sheer force of it catches him off guard. His hands tremble.
He doesn't know what to do with it—all of it.
Then—two arms wrap around him, breaking the spiral.
Neva embraces him. Warm. Steady. Real.
She holds him close.
"You know… love is patient and kind," she murmurs. "It doesn't envy or boast. It's not arrogant or rude."
Her voice is soft, like lullaby, grounding him—an anchor in the rising tide.
She's quoting one of her favorite Bible verses, and he knows it.
She smiles faintly against his shoulder.
"Are you willing to abide by that kind of love?"
"I am," Rhett breathes, stunned. His mind spins, heart racing out of control.
His chest aches, but it's fullfilled now—full of her.
"Never betray me, Rhett," she murmurs.
"I never could, Neva. I'd rather die," he swears.
Neva chuckles. "Don't you want to live with me? Read the air, Mr. Rhett Lei."
Rhett just beams, overwhelmed with joy.
She leans against his shoulder, muffling her voice. "I can't believe my lover has such terrible humor."
Rhett freezes.
Lover?
He pulls back, blinking, stunned.
Neva laughs at his wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
She gently pokes the soft tip of his nose with her finger.
"I'm till dreaming, aren't I?" he mumbles, dazed.
"You're not" she giggles, curling back beneath the kotatsu's futon.
Rhett tilts his chin up, eyes glistening with near-tears of joy.
"Wait—are we lovers now? Not just neighbors?" he asks, grinning, eyes sparkling as they meet hers.
Neva hides beneath the futon, embarrassed. "Mnmm~"
He suddenly grows serious, leaning closer.
"You can't escape now! You're stuck with me. Twenty-four seven. Okay?"
"Hah? That's too cruel!" Neva huffs.
"How dare you say that to your husband?" Rhett gasps, offended.
"H-Husband?" she stammers, wide-eyed.
"Mm-hmm," he nods, deadly serious.
"You're so stupid, Rhett!!" she groans, burying her face under the duvet.
He laughs and flops onto her, squashing her into giggles.
Their laughter spills into the quiet room—free, joyful, unrestrained.
Then the air goes still—set against the rapid pulse beneath their skin, the closeness,
the quiet comfort of home they find in each other's warmth and presence.
Rhett rests his head against Neva's chest, sighing in contentment at the steady rise and fall beneath him, the soft duvet cocooning them in warmth.
A smile tugs at her lips as her fingers drift through his curls, tender and unhurried.
"I'm scared, Neva," he whispers.
"I'm so happy it frightens me,"
Rhett lifts his head to look at her.
Their eyes meet with a familiar recognition—
With a sacred thread binding them as one, pulling them into the depths of the sweetest euphoria.
She's glowing—so beautiful it aches him.
Those rosy cheeks, soft as dawn.
Those starry eyes, deep and endless.
Her lips like flushed spring blossoms.
Skin silky, brows feathery and gently curved.
He never knew he was so favored by the divine—that God would create someone like her.
And now… he gets to love her.
How could it even be that she's his now?
That she's here. This close. This real.
He's found in love.
And he's never felt so alive.
"Can I… kiss you?" he breathes.
He asked for permission this time? Neva's heart stutters.
She swallows nervously. "You don't have to ask."
With that, he leans in.
And without wasting a second, Rhett captures her lips—tender, reverent, full of awe.
He kisses her as though she's a fragile flower he's afraid to bruise.
Neva's breath catches.
Rhett is the thief stealing her air, her calm, her reason.
She feels the tides crashing into wildfires—Sacred. Feverish. Warm.
Her skin tingles with every brush of his lips, every pull of his breath—until bliss spins her dizzy.
They are both—
Consumed.
They are both—
Burning in love.