"Rhett," she whispers, her lips brushing against his ear.
"Wake up."
She purses her lips as he remains unstirring, his beautiful,
handsome face resting in a peaceful dream.
Her fingers graze his soft, morning hair, which she so adores, especially when he wakes looking all cuddly, clueless, and innocent like a baby bear.
Giving up, she rests her head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek.
It's been three weeks and five days since they've been together as lovers.
Twenty-six days of living together, and waking up in each other's arms after nights that might have been cold and lonely if he weren't here.
After grounding their relationship that evening with painful questions that eventually gave way to mystifying kisses and guileless confessions,
opening up about what they wished for in their togetherness in Christ, burning a stew, whispered I love yous, more kisses, a takeout dinner of spaghetti bolognese, murmured conversations, cuddling, and even more kisses before finally falling asleep and waking up in each other's arms, they sealed the past few weeks with a blooming passion threaded through romantic dates or mundane routines,
and an ever-after to come with overwhelming bliss.
She, who has been careful with her feelings, afraid that if she let her heart unfurl without restraint, the world shall only crush it, leaving it to wither, is in love.
A heart can be a treacherous, treacherous thing.
Yet, she doesn't fret, for she has long surrendered everything to God, and he is her greatest blessing.
As a child, she did not understand the wonder of love between a man and a woman, or how the world revolved around it as she does now. She had been satisfied with her life, her Heavenly Father, and her aunt and uncle.
Yet, the emptiness her parents had left behind would return, like an icy breeze pricking her skin in winter.
Perhaps if her parents had been there, her aunt and uncle would not have been so protective. Might have allowed her a little more freedom, instead of keeping her so often at home,
with so much of the world left to explore.
"Adults know better," is what aunt Mae always says.
So, the moment she herself crossed into adulthood, she took the chance to live her free will in Erriador.
Yet, this man wasn't in her plan at all.
Though, he was in God's plan for her. Love, marriage, a family of her own, these had crossed her mind a few times before him, but never had she secured her heart for a future in any of them until it was with him.
He's a blessing she never knew needed.
A living home woven by Heaven, now, without him, where else could she ever belong in this world?
And she misses him, already misses him, that irritable,
glazed curtain of dream stealing him from her.
She longs for those twinkling eyes, the teasing silliness that stir her insides like red koi swimming in a stream.
"Wake up, Rhett," she mumbles sleepily, a finger slowly stroking his chest. "It's snowing."
Still, no response, just his breathing, soft and steady.
As her eyes slowly close again, his strong arms wrap around her.
She lifts her gaze to meet his, only to find him smiling down at her.
"You're awake—" A squeak escapes her as he grabs her waist and rolls her beneath him.
Pinned to the mattress, giggles spill from her as he peppers her face and neck with many, many kisses,
fierce in their need, yet gentle in his pure devotion.
Feverish from the swirling waves of euphoria and ticklish sensations, she presses her palms against his chest to push him away.
He captures her lips in a kiss filled with a thawing sweetness,
a lingering fieriness as her mind slowly drifts away.
After pulling away, he buries his face in her neck, murmuring, "I had a nightmare, Angel."
"What did you see?" she asks, gently stroking his hair.
"I saw that you left me," he says, voice groggy. "Please don't ever leave me."
"I won't," she assures. "Ever."
A soft sigh escapes him, his arms tightening around her.
"It's the first fall of snow, Rhett," she whispers. "Come with me outside,
before the other tenants wake up."
"You want to fight snowballs with me?" he jokes.
A quiet chuckle leaves her. "No. But what about a dance?"
He lifts his head, a smile easing onto his lips. "You want to dance with me?"
"Why not?" She brushes strands of dark hair from his brow.
"Then what are we waiting for?" he says, pulling her up with him.
A grin curves across her lips, and he chuckles, scooping her up in his arms.
"We can't risk catching cold, though," she declares, wrapping her arms around him.
"Oh no, we can't," he agrees, carrying her to the closet. "Especially when your exams are so near."
"And Christmas too!" she corrects.
He laughs before placing her carefully on the floor. "We have a whole month for that."
"No, we don't." She pulls the closet door open and grabs a sweater and a jacket for him, the closet, like the rest of her
apartment now shared by them both, even if he still hasn't completely moved out of his own.
She turns to face him. "Today is the first day of December, remember?"
He smiles before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Of course."
She returns his smile, and his hand cups her face as he kisses her.
Slipping into winter clothes and boots, she takes his hand and quickly urges him out of the apartment.
Frosty fresh air bites at her bare cheeks at once, yet her heart surges with childlike glee at the white blanket covering the big apartment compound.
"Careful with the stairs," he cautions as she guides him across the corridor and down the slippery, snow-feathered stairs.
Satisfying crunches follow beneath each of her steps as she spreads her arms, tilting her face up to the ivory-grey heavens and grinning up at her Father.
When she turns to glance at him, she finds him a few steps away, a faraway,
dreamy look in his eyes as he patiently watches her.
Her heartbeat quickens as he slowly steps toward her, the breathless intensity of disbelief that she can call him hers crashing down on her all at once.
In a princely, earnest manner, he bows before her. "May I have a dance with my love?"
Cheeks warming up, she gently rests her hand on his.
He draws her close by her waist, lovingly kissing her hand before guiding her to a slow turn in the snow.
Beaming, her palm rests against his shoulder as she settles against him once more, swaying to the rhythm of their heartbeats and the whisper of breeze.
"I have improved Shakespeare's poem. Do you want to hear it?"
"Yes."
So, he recites. "Your eternal light shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fairness you own,
Nor shall death brag you wander in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time you'll grow.
"So long as she can breathe, my eyes can see,
...And so long lives she, she gives life to me."
Her fingers curl into his jacket, her chest tightening with unnamable emotions. "What if I'm not
smart enough to understand it as you intend?"
"It says I can't live without you."
She playfully pushes against him at the mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Tell me what you truly mean."
He draws her closer, wrapping her snugly in his embrace. "I do truly mean that," he confesses, before adding, "You remind me that He hasn't forgotten me, Neva. You are you, and I'm yours. I'll always find
my way to you. And if you're promised eternity
with Him, I believe there's an eternity for me, too."
A soft smile tugs at her lips,
and a very strange, sweet sensation stirs within her, making her want to melt and smolder all at once in the utter drunkenness of him.
"Thank you for coming into my life, Angel." His thumb brushes her cheek. "And thank you for being exactly who you are."
"I haven't told you that I write poems, did I?" she reveals.
A tender amusement lightens his face. "You write poems?"
"I do. But I've never felt good enough to show them to anyone."
"Will you write one for me when I'm back from my work trip overseas?"
"A trip overseas?" she asks, confused. "When?"
"Two days from now." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "There are a few things I need to take care of. But I'll try to make it back in two weeks."
"Two weeks?" Her heart sinks. Two whole weeks without him?
"We can always talk on the phone," he reassures her.
"Okay," she gives in, resting her head against his chest before sniffling at the sting of the cold air.
He rubs her back soothingly, as if to warm her. "Let's go back inside, Angel.
We can't have you catching cold, can we?"
"Yes," she mumbles. "You know what, I'll try to write a poem for you before you leave.
But you can't judge it, alright? It'll be like a piece of me that you can carry during your work trip."
"Of course," he says, just as the sound of snow crunching beneath approaching footsteps breaks the tranquil hush between them.
She slowly pulls back to find one of the tenants, a man slightly older looking than Rhett, whose name she doesn't know, wrapped in thick winterwear from head to toe, a red scarf wrapped around his neck, crossing the compound toward the iron gates.
Neva can't help but worry about him going out this early to work, and even more for Rhett being overseas alone in such weather too, but she can
only pray to her Heavenly Father to keep them safe.
"Come on," Rhett says, scooping her in his arms as if she weighs nothing.
Neva dusts the snowflakes from his hair as he carries her towards the stairs,
all balmy nside despite the coldness outside.