A serene hush has fallen over this periphery of the winter–darkened world, broken only by the soft, muffled hiss of falling snow as it drapes the thatched roof of the cottage.
A lone lantern in the corner casts a warm amber glow across the little room, just enough for her to trace the random rubble patterns of the earth-coloured stone walls.
Neva lies on her side, wide awake, unsure how long it has been since she first went to bed, feigning sleep so Rhett would not worry and could take his much-needed rest.
She feels the steady thrum of his heart against her back, his warm breath fanning the bare skin of her neck with each exhale. He spoons her, his embrace warmer than the thick blankets cocooning them.
Her gaze drifts to the bed as a soft, incoherent mumble rises from one of her sleeping children.
She slowly slips her left hand out from under the blanket and gazes at the ring on her fourth finger—a simple gold wedding band etched with roses, a humble echo of her original ring, the one she had lost.
He had bought it only a week ago, from a small village market where people went for their daily necessities.
He couldn't bear to see his wife's finger bare, and he still wore his own band, insisting he had never once taken it off.
"Can't sleep?" he murmurs, his voice low, thick with drowsiness.
She doesn't answer—only grips the blanket tighter, tugging it up toward her chin.
"Want me to help you sleep?" he whispers, pressing a kiss just below her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
His warm lips trail down the slope of her shoulder, soft and lingering, his kisses moist with heat. A soft sigh escapes her as she closes her eyes, her body unravelling, her soul melting beneath his ambrosial touch.
He feels her soften, yielding to him, desire stirring in the way she presses closer. But as his hand glides higher, tracing the curve of her thigh, she shudders—then flinches.
He freezes at once.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, voice tinged with worry.
She shakes her head ever so slightly.
"N–no," she whispers, drawing in a sharp breath.
He gently turns her to face him, his brow furrowing as he catches the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asks softly, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone, the last trace of drowsiness gone from his voice.
She only shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if willing the tears not to fall.
"Angel, look at me," he murmurs, gently lifting her chin until her glazed eyes meet his.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"No—" Her voice cracks, tears burning at the corners of her eyes as she refuses to let them fall.
She swallows hard against the lump rising in her throat.
"Then is it—"
"Why do you feel the need to marry me again?" she asks, cutting him off, her voice breaking.
He raises a brow. "Is that what's troubling you?" he asks, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at her, curiosity softening his features.
"Do you think our marriage has weakened? Because I—" her voice splinters into a sharp sob, tears spilling freely down her temple. "You know I...I didn't have a choice."
He gathers her into his arms without hesitation, and she cries, burying her face against his chest, her trembling fists clutching at his shirt.
"I know, Angel," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I know."
"I don't think I can do this anymore," she sobs, her voice breaking. "I'm… I'm so tired."
He only holds her silently, his gaze solemn, helpless.
"I just want to crawl out of my skin," she cries out, her voice muffled against his chest, raw with anger and self-loathing.
"Oh God... I don't want to feel this anymore." she chokes out, grief ragged in her voice, her body shuddering, knuckles whitening as she claws at his shirt.
"Shh…" He strokes her hair, his fingers gentle and careful. "It'll be okay.
Tomorrow will be better." He presses a kiss into her hair. "Kinder," he adds in a whisper.
She shakes her head into his chest. "I—" she hiccups, breath hitching.
"I can't take it anymore." Her voice breaks, fading into a ragged whisper.
He squeezes his eyes shut, his heart racing at the weight of her agony. His arms tighten around her, holding her closer, as if he could absorb all that causes her such terrible pain.
"I want to go home…" she cries. "Take me home, please."
"We'll go home. Soon… I promise," he whispers, his voice soft but certain.
"I just—" she croaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be with my Father."
He swallows, his arms tightening around her more than he intends, pressing her close until she can almost suffocate.
His heart races, gripped by unease—a creeping terror of the dark, turbulent waters swirling just beneath the surface.
She pulls back just enough to meet his glazed eyes, her lips quivering, tears streaking endlessly down her face.
"Make love to me, please…" she whispers.
His eyes soften as they search hers, deep, familiar pools of cocoa. His heart aches at the mournful redness of her swollen eyes.
"Are you sure?" he asks, gently wiping her cheeks.
She nods. "Even if just for a while… I want to forget," she murmurs, trembling fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt, already damp with her tears.
He gently takes her hand in his, halting her movements. "Angel," he sighs.
She looks up at him, chin trembling. "You—you don't want me anymore?"
"Is it because you're disgusted by me? You know he forced it on me, right?" she whimpers, tears soaking her flushed cheeks and the pillow beneath her.
"He always did…" she cries harder, pressing her face into his chest as he gently pulls her closer with his trembling arms.
He swallows, unable to speak, his own tears streaming down his cheeks as her body convulses against him.
He gently presses his cheek to her head, jaw tight, his stomach recoiling at the images crawling beneath his skin—the haunting visions of all she's endured, far beyond what he could possibly imagine.
"If I could turn back time," he murmurs, voice trembling, thick with regret, "I would've stayed... made sure I never left you that day. Made sure I never failed you."
.
.
Neva slowly blinks open her swollen eyes, her lids still heavy with sleep.
Her head rests against Rhett's warm, bare chest. She places a gentle hand over his heart, the serenity of its steady rhythm grounding her in this hush little while.
Her drowsy gaze lifts to his beautiful face—but sorrow seeps into her heart as she catches the frown carved deep into his dark brows.
Carefully, she slips free of his arm, heavy around her waist. Rising slowly, she feels the blanket slide away, and a shudder runs through her as the morning chill brushes her bare back, softened only by the fall of her lush curls cascading down her naked form.
Wrapping the blanket around herself once more, she turns toward the window. Morning light seeps through the white lace curtain, its blue glow mingling with the faint lantern still burning in the room.
She exhales softly, closing her eyes as a quiet prayer slips from her lips.
Before dressing, she tucks the blanket more snugly around him.
She drapes a thick shawl over her nightgown and makes her way toward the door.
.
.
.
Neva knocks gently on the parlor door across from their bedroom's, and a quiet "come in" follows.
She steps inside, gently closing the door behind her.
Sky looks up from the notebook resting on her lap, the pen in her hand stilled mid-thought.
"Good morning," she smiles.
"Good morning," Neva replies, offering a small smile in return.
"To the kitchen?" Sky asks, stretching one leg from beneath the blanket as she leans toward the laptop on the coffee table, her fingers flying quickly over the keys.
She's cosy on the carpet by the fireplace, where the flames have faded, leaving behind only a bed of glowing red embers.
"Yes," Neva says, shivering as she walks toward the fireplace. "It's cold in here… why didn't you tend the fire?"
Sky looks up, nudging her glasses higher with a finger, her strawberry blonde hair gathered in a messy bun. "I'm fine. The cold doesn't really bother me."
Neva raises her brows, amused.
"How long has it been since the fire went out?" she asks, fetching a few logs from the iron rack.
She crouches before the fireplace, laying the wood gently over the glowing embers.
"An hour, maybe?" Sky replies, jotting something down on her notebook without looking up.
Neva nods and leans toward the hearth, blowing gently at the embers to coax them back to life.
After a few attempts, the flames catch, licking up the logs. She inhales deeply, leaning back as she stretches her palms toward the growing warmth.
"Do you always wake up this early?" Sky asks.
Neva turns to her and shakes her head. "Not always."
"If I don't have work, I get at least fourteen hours of sleep," Sky says with a sigh.
Neva chuckles softly, sinking back against the carpet. "It must be really rough, being an agent."
"Not really," Sky shrugs. "But it's your job I admire. I can't imagine being in your shoes. And cooking without gas, induction, or electricity? Geez, that's terrible."
Neva sighs, gazing toward the fogged window framed with lace curtains.
"It won't be forever. I'm actually lucky to have been born in these times," she says, pausing to look down at her fingers folded in her lap.
"I've been blessed with such kind people around me. How dare I even complain?" she whispers, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.
Sky reaches out, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "You didn't deserve to go through all of that. No one does."
Sky meets Neva's eyes and smiles, as though she can see the turmoil rippling beneath her calm. "Your faith has carried you this far. You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for. It's okay to complain—we're only human."
Neva returns the smile, nodding as she exhales softly.
"Can I ask you something?" Neva murmurs softly.
Sky nods, drawing her hand back. "Of course."
Neva bites her lip gently, cautious. "Do you… believe in God?
Sky raises a brow and sighs, leaning back, palms pressed against the carpet.
"I was born into a Christian family, but it wasn't exactly... quiet like the environment you'd expect. Hypocrites, I dare say. But I never cared; if God were really there… well, He didn't seem to care. But now, I see His hand in my life—through Grandma's prayers, in the little miracles that saved me during missions."
Her striking blue eyes meet Neva's, sincere and alight.
"And now, opening my heart to Him through you," she adds with a smile.
Neva smiles, her heart warming at the trust Sky places in her—to be so open about such a delicate part of her life. "Thank you."
"You know what?" Sky says. "I've seen the boys—Jack, even Ace—softening toward the faith they once thought was just a myth. You're turning lives around here."
"He works in the most wonderful way," Neva replies softly.
"Any plans for what you're going to do after this?" Sky asks, tilting her head.
Neva nods. "I want to be at home. Tend my garden. Raise my children. Write poems." She sighs, shoulders relaxing as she lets the thought settle.
"Did you always want this?" Sky asks, a soft smile playing on her lips.
Neva shakes her head. "Before I got married, I was still figuring out my life. I wanted to go to college, make something of my degrees," she pauses, wrapping the shawl tighter around her. "But I trust God's plan for me. He knows me better than I do."
Sky nods. "As long as you get to do what you want, it's all good."
Neva smiles. "If you'll excuse me, I need to start my morning routine."
"Sure," Sky replies, straightening.
Just as Neva rises to her feet, a knock sounds at the door.
"Come in," Sky says, returning her attention to the laptop.
Rhett walks in, a quiet sigh of relief escaping him as he meets Neva's gaze.
"Why are you up so early?" he asks, approaching her.
"I need to have breakfast ready before the children wake," Neva says, heading toward the kitchen just west of the parlor. "And I need my bath," she adds, flinching slightly at the cold door handle as she pushes it open.
"How can I help?" he asks, his warmth radiating from behind her as she steps into the kitchen.
"Help me prepare the bread, please," she replies, their voices muffled in the tiny space that the married lovers begins to warm together.
Outside, the snow, which had ceased falling, hisses against the thatched roof once more.
The wind shifts wildly through the snow-covered forest, hinting at the dreaded gale approaching.