May Mae was in the arms of her husband, her face buried in his chest, clutching his sweater as she cried her heart out.
Her Neva; her little girl did not recognise her.
Niall Smith was equally heartbroken. But he needed to be strong for his wife, and so he paralyzed his hurt, rubbing the small of back of his wife.
"Oh Niall, our daughter... How could anyone be so cruel?" Her tears soaked his sweater.
Her choking sobs breaking his heart.
"Breathe May breathe." Niall said, his chin shored on the top of her head. "Neva is a strong woman. She always healed. She will this time too."
"She was even a mother now."
May only cried harder. She was astray all the time when Neva should have had her to lean on, to lead her, reassure her.
How scared had she been when she ventured into motherhood so young?
What kind of condemned life did she lead all this years? May Mae felt like she failed her; her brother, her sister–in–law.
The again, it was only hours ago they were imprisoned in their own manor in the outskirts of Edinburgh in Scotland; when suddenly a man came in the dawn and rescued them, bringing them to Erriador.
When they could finally sip fresh air out the manor, all the guards were suddenly vanished.
Three years ago: armed men dressed in black suits broke into their home and killed their maids in cold blood before their eyes. From then on, the men always kept an eye on them.
They weren't physically tortured, but with the only exception of freedom.
They were still clueless of why, and who was behind it. Until today; that the young man revealed it was the man who had seized Neva.
The young man spoke about how Neva's husband had spend all this years looking for her, and it was only not long ago he finally acquired any idea at all of her emplacement.
But even that husband, the devoted other–half of her she couldn't recognise. Nor, the beautiful son she no longer recalled carrying or giving birth too.
Someone knocked on the door.
May pulled away and hiccuped, her tears unceasing.
"Come in," Niall said as he grabbed the tissue box from the nightstand, and offered May some napkins.
The door opened revealing the man who arrived with Neva and her husband this night.
He introduced himself as Ace and it was him who apprised them that Neva was here.
"Yes? May I help you with something?" Niall asked.
Ace shook his head. "No. The dinner has arrived. Is Japanese food fine?"
"Absolutely. We'll be there in a moment." Niall smiled.
Ace nodded and closed the door behind. Then he stood outside the next closed door and lifted his fist to knock, but he hesitated.
He sighed in distress and shook his head. His Boss was inside with his wife, and he didn't know if it was right to interfere them.
After years of being apart, their situation was already complicated enough with a demand to amend eternity in the future.
What a deep sea he was in between couples.
"Man I'm hungry." Ace grumbled and made a bee–line to the dining table in the living room where hot Japanese take–out just came in, prepared to be devoured by him.
---
Neva was sat with her knees folded in the fore of the bed.
She didn't want to believe it.
Nothing made sense anymore. It was all too much to take in. The man who attempted to kill Ishmael was her husband?; and they even had a son? She even had an aunt and uncle... It was ridiculous!
These strangers made it sound like she had just returned from something terrible. But she was secured and blissfully married. She was satisfied with her husband and their children. What could have gone so wrong in a span of hours?
It felt moments ago she was in the garden reading a book on the swing, watching Ishmael play with their twins. How could something like this happen?
The weight of the circumstances weighing in, Neva found herself sinking, numb with all this compelling emotions swelling her chest.
She buried her head in her crossed arms, shored on the folded knees against her chest.
Then with tight, down–turned lips she skimmed at the man who sat accross her on the edge of the bed. He was guilty of it all.
He showed up and turned her world upside down.
She hadn't opened her mouth. Nor, did he. They just sat there in silence.
While she cried and sunk, he just sat there and watched her silently.
A spark seeped in through the knot of the fastened eyes.
Neva bit her lips seeing him smile with lightened eyes.
She frowned and obscured herself again in the burrow of her hands. She thought he was a fool! A mad man! He attempted to kill Ishmael!
He was a man to be feared. But so did Ishmael. He attempted on him too. A sudden surge of worry frosted her lungs, and so she couldn't help asking, breaking the silence: "Was he harmed?" Her voice was muffled.
"If you're asking about Raka, unfortunately he was not." Rhett answered, bitter that the first thing she felt obliged to inquire was about him.
But nevertheless; glad she didn't despise him too great, and that she could still stand wasting her breath on his delusive self.
For now; it felt enough.
Her divine presence allowing him in the same room, on the same bed with an ocean of space seperating was enough.
"But I'll make sure he is. Soon." He forced her head up to glare at him.
When Neva was finally breathing in succour, and reasurred he was fine?
"You wouldn't." She tried him.
But that angry little glare... her beautiful flushed face only brushed up a serene smile on his face.
No matter what, he couldn't help adoring her; burning for her. Her sacred soul gradually healing him of all the wounds.
And he knew that; knew no matter old and scarred he would be, her being merely existing could soothe him to reborn a saint.
He didn't say anything.
So Neva felt this strange urge to hear his voice again.
She felt deranged.
But she just wanted him to indulge her bubbling, bursting questions.
Even if it meant, she would probably hurt herself and be overwhelmed with the lies he would flatter himself with.
"Explain it." Neva said. Rhett raised a brow.
"I asked give me a reason for all that you've caused today." He agaped his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.
"And I only want the truth." She warned.
Rhett sighed. "I had only ever offered truth to you."
He stood up and went to fetch Rhean's navy blue bag placed on the three seated green velvet sofa opposite of the bed, placed against the wall. He picked it up and returned to the bed, sitting closer to her than before, but still maintained a safe distance she wouldn't fight.
Then he unzipped the bag and found the cold surface of his treasure.
Neva saw him cherish a thick red hard–covered of what seemed like a vintage photo album.
Rhett glanced at her. A little faltering.
"Before I let you see what's in this, promise me you wouldn't be too hard on yourself."
"Remember, don't let yourself fail with the past, live in the present and dream about a future." He held it out to her.
"I won't promise anything." Neva retorted seizing it from him.
Rhett studied her closely, careful to stop her at the right moment if he sensed any change of severe strain in her.
This photo–book was bought by her after their marriage, illustrated by her own hands with art and pictures starting from their short time in Erriador, their marriage, her pregnancy, and up until when Rhean was a baby.
He would start from this. Another step to win her back.
Neva was now seated crossed leg, the album in her lap.
She wasn't really stunned, that she saw a woman in the memories. Mostly, with a man.
She looked like her.
She gazed up at Rhett. She pursed her lips finding his stare.
She gazed down again.
The man was him.
She felt a flutter in her chest.
She didn't stop turning the pages.
Neva couldn't move on from a certain page.
She caressed the picture: in a wildflower meadow, there was a woman dressed in a long flaring white couquette dress, a veil flowing her back—gracing the ground, wreath of flowers over her crown, bouquet of roses in her hands; and she had an arm wrapped around her groom dressed in a white shirt underneath a black tuxedo.
And they were happy. Glowing and in love...
She looked at him with so much love.
And he looked at her with so much love.
A drop of tear fell on it.
And her tears rained down on the wildflower meadow; and on the strange and gullible bride and groom.
Neva ached.
They looked at each other as if nothing in the world mattered; for as long as they were one.
Her heart mourned for them.
They were enstranged in a mirage.
There was no such kind love that ever bloomed in the earth.
And then she mourned herself; for if their eyes mirrored the soul; she wouldn't know what to do with herself for she hadn't felt anything like them.
And this flicker of flame igniting a dear reverie; a familiar pleasure; she cursed herself for not being brave enough to rip her deafening heart out the ribs.