"Do you think the baby will resent us?" Neva murmurs, her chest tightening.
Rhett's brow shadows. "And why would you think that?"
She swallows, her eyes locking with his. "For bringing them into such a bitter world." Her fist curls into the soft cotton of his shirt.
His gaze softens. He, too, had once cursed his parents for casting him into this unmerciful life—made him endure agony in a realm so cruel.
"Somedays, maybe," he says gently, "there will be days our child might hold a grudge against us. Because that's what life is—it's not always smooth. But they'll always have us to hold their hands. And we'll provide a space filled with love, care, and protection—everything we have to give." He kisses her forehead, and she closes her eyes, savoring the warmth of his lips against her skin.
His words fall soft against her troubled heart.
"Even if the world treats them with scorn," he whispers, his breath hovering gently over her cheek.
Her glittering, galaxy-like eyes meet the tranquility in his. "But you know it, our lives don't compare with others.
We're always on the run—always living in fear.
Every second of our lives holds terror." Her voice trembles with the glimpse of the future—the echoes of the past that might return to haunt them.
"I won't let any evil harm you," he vows. "I promise—with my life, I'll keep you both safe." He kisses her, slow and deep, as if sealing the promise in her soul. She exhales, heart weightless with his words.
"Will I be a good mother?" she asks, her voice laced with hesitation.
"You're the best wife I could ever dream of. Of course you'll be a good mother," he says, resting his chin atop her head, his arms drawing her closer.
Gratitude wells up in her—of course, she would never abandon this seed of their love.
"My gosh," she breathes, blinking. "And I'm just a teenager." The realization hits her, and a dazed looks follows in her eyes.
Rhett chuckles lowly, and she catches the sparkle in his eyes. He leans in and kisses her soft, blossoming lips.
"Well, ain't our baby gonna be one lucky kid—such young, healthy parents and all." His laugh rumbles gently, coaxing a soft chuckle from her lips too.
"Tomorrow, we need to see a doctor," she murmurs. He nods.
"Sure. We'll go after breakfast."
"How many weeks do you think it's been?" he asks, clearly curious, already imagining how big the baby might be.
"I have no idea." Neva thinks back, counting the days of her cycle.
"Do you remember when was your last period?" he asks casually.
She blushes, lips tightening—he can be so embarrassingly straightforward.
Still, she answers, "December 19."
He nods, thoughtful. "Then you must've conceived on our wedding night."
Neva frowns in thought. With everything that's been going on, she realized it late that she missed her January period.
Her cycle had always been regular. And now, February's nearly over.
No morning sickness. But she had felt fatigue, sore breasts, and all the small signs pointing to a quiet truth that made her immediately get the pregnancy test kits.
They hadn't taken any precautions, hadn't used protection—not even once.
She exhales. Reckless—but they hadn't even paused to think, not once.
"Could be," she whispers, eyes heavy with sleep.
"Sleep tight," he murmurs, kissing her cheek. He lifts the velvety duvet over her shoulder, where it had slipped down, tucking her in with care. She yawns, nuzzling into his chest—so firm, so steady.
He smiles, an urge blooming within him to touch her belly.
Slowly, reverently, he glides his hand down to her abdomen, fingers stroking the place where he believes their child now grows.
His heart swells. He gazes at her—his dreaming, heavenly wife. He had once been alone.
But now—now she has given him everything.
She'd brushed away the grey of his life with strokes of wild color—rainbows, moonlight, and quiet dawns.
She lit the gloom in his soul with twinkling stars, golden moonlight, flickers of aurora, and the bold, burning sun.
He's so in love with her.
And he wants for nothing more. He could weep from the euphoria of it—his Angel has given him a family of his own. Something he had never dared to dream he might deserve.
This is a haven, carved from grace.
A miracle before the final autumn ever fell.
And he is grateful to be alive. Grateful to the Creator. Content with his life.
He cradles her head and kisses the crown of her soft head once more. Then he closes his eyes, slipping into a honeyed sleep, heart wrapped in the promise of beautiful dreams.