(A Slow birthday on March 1st)
Gentle fingers brush over her features—the lovely face of an angel, slumbering deep. Safe and tangled in warm bedsheets, Rhett admires her up close in the quiet, lost morning. His beautiful Neva. His Angel.
His beloved wife.
His touch glides to her soft lips, and her veiled lids flutter. Neva slowly opens her eyes, and into her newborn gaze pours the sight of his peaceful, handsome face.
Those almond eyes form an adorable doe-like softness as they meet the sonorous, soothing gaze of her husband. He caresses her jawline, brushing ever so delicately.
"Did I wake you?" Rhett's voice is soft, deep. She hums faintly in response.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, "but I missed you."
She smiles and returns the love, her lips moving against his.
"Happy birthday," he murmurs, kissing lovingly her forehead, her soft cheeks, her pointed nose, and her lips once more.
"Thank you," Neva whispers, smiling as she snuggles closer to him.
"Do you feel alright?" he asks, worry clouding his gaze as he tucks a few loose strands behind her ear.
She had a rough night—throwing up more times than he could count. He almost called for a medical transport at midnight.
Only when she'd reassured him it was normal in the first trimester had the panic eased in his chest.
She'd had it easy the weeks before—but last night had left him petrified.
She hadn't rested until nearly three in the morning. Now, remorse lingers in his eyes for waking her again.
But deeper still, a heavier guilt gnaws at his chest. For the scene he exposed her to yesterday—so harrowing, so brutal.
He should've known better than to lay such darkness before her, especially now, when she's already burdened… already in such a fragile state.
His gaze darkens. He should've been more careful—not let anger take control.
There were other ways. Gruesome—but quieter ways to make them pay.
"I feel a little green. And my tummy hurts a bit," she murmurs faintly.
His expression softens, drawn gently back to the tenderness of the present.
But still, worry deepens in his eyes.
"And?" he asks, his hand drifting to her abdomen.
"Other than those… I feel fine," she says, offering quiet reassurance.
He rubs her small, firm belly gently, trying to soothe both her and himself. "Our baby's growing bigger," he murmurs, awe glinting in his eyes.
She chuckles. "Is it? Must be the size of an olive now."
"Really?" His eyes widen, sparkling.
She nods.
"What do you think—boy or girl?" he asks, his fingers circling softly over her stretching womb.
"Last night, I dreamt we had a boy," she says, her eyes glistening at the memory.
"A boy, huh?" he smiles.
"And if it's a girl?" he murmurs, pulling her closer.
"Then it's a girl," she replies gently.
He kisses her forehead, and her eyes close a little.
"Do you want to go on a date? For your birthday?" Rhett offers.
Neva shakes her head, smiling. "I don't want to leave the bed."
"Craving anything special?" he asks, hopeful.
"Nothing," she whispers, her lashes lowering, sleep tugging at her again.
"Not even your favorite strawberry shortcakes?" he tempts.
Her eyes snap open. "Strawberry shortcakes? Where did you find that?"
"I made a special arrangement," he says proudly, kissing the adorable smile blooming on her lips.
"It's been so long," she murmurs, eyes misty with memories.
"Are you thinking about the first day we met?" he asks.
She nods, her smile reaching her eyes.
"You were seriously a strange stalker!" she exclaims, playfully glaring at her husband.
He laughs, cupping her cheek. "I couldn't help it. You were so beautiful… I wanted you the moment I saw you." His smile softens, his thumb stroking her fair cheek.
Neva blushes cherry red, pouting shyly. "Still, it really freaked me out when I saw you this close at the bakery!"
"My bad. But I almost kissed and claimed you then and there," he teases, grinning as she hides her face, flustered.
"Look at us now," he says, voice thick with wonder. "I can kiss you… make love to you..."
He leans in, stealing another kiss. "However, whenever I want."
She presses a finger to his lips, halting him with a frown. "Enough kisses. I'm feeling nauseous," Neva mutters, her belly queasy again.
⑅ ⑅ ⑅
The evening air is warm, sweet, drifting gently around her. Neva rests in her front garden, wrapped in a cozy duvet, sunk into a wooden armchair with soft cushions.
The orange sun drips slowly westward. Reclined, the Bible in hand, she lets her eyes wander from the page to the garden surrounding her. Her lungs fill with peace.
She lays the open Word on her chest and gazes around at her small, blooming world.
A wooden fence surrounds the cottage.
The landlord once planted the now-tall trees that dapple the yard in comforting shade. Wild pink roses bloom in the corners, brave enough to flower even in winter.
Near the tiny balcony, she planted white baby's breath, coral and red roses, and many shades of cornflowers and poppies.
In the distance, birds sing—tunes she can't quite name, though they stir her soul.
So, she closes her eyes and offers the Lord a quiet prayer of gratitude.
For these beautiful blessings.
For this tranquiled while. For the easing of winter, in both earth and heart.
When she opens her eyes again, a sudden startling flash of orange bounds over the short fence.
A familiar little being leaps into her yard, a soft dream come to life.
Her hand presses to her chest, startled. Her heart nearly leaps out of fear—
Then she sees the culprit.
The little orange kitten. Meowing with mischief, golden and black eyes gleaming.
Neva smiles. It's Anna's precious Ella.
"Come here, Ella," she coos. The kitten dashes straight into her arms, meowing louder in joy.
Neva lifts her into her lap, covering them both with the duvet, which she parts open just for Ella. The kitten loafs happily into her warmth, purring.
Rhett emerges from the open doorway, brows furrowed at the familiar meows.
"Angel, let's go in," he says, bending to kiss her cheek.
Neva glances up at him. "Okay. Ella, let's go in," she tells the cat.
But Rhett shakes his head. "No orange cat today."
She pouts. "Please..." She gives him those wide, pleading eyes he usually gives her.
He exhales, resigned. "The cat must've sneaked out. Its owner's probably worried."
Neva glances at the cozy kitten. "I'll just let Anna know. Ella never loses her way home anyway." She grins, scratching the cat's chin as it purrs louder.
He sighs, shaking his head. "Alright, my stubborn wife. But it's getting cold." He helps her to her feet.
Neva smiles giddily, holding Ella in her arms as they stroll back into the warmth of their little home. Rhett trails behind, carrying the Bible, the chair and duvet, love quiet in every step.