A cruise was deemed the safest option by Rhett and the agents for travelling across Europe while evading Sam Ishmael, apparently also known as Raka.
Puffy-eyed but mild and calm after a refreshing bath, she joined the agents for dinner at around six in the evening, having fallen asleep crying in his arms.
They were all kind and welcoming, and probably sensed a change in her demeanour towards Rhett, for she was still grieving his breach of trust.
With the agents having ordered chicken tikka masala and rice, she and her fiancé chose the same. Yet, delicious as the meal was, she could hardly swallow a bite, even though she had been starving.
Sometime during the meal, or perhaps afterwards, when they'd settled in the empty diner with the fire crackling in the
hearth, Ace revealed to her that Ishmael was the founder and CEO of Samuel Groups, partnered with Ellis Enterprise, but was also a notorious drug lord.
Ace had probably asked her why Sam Ishmael was after her, but she couldn't answer, for she lacked the reason herself.
Sensing her emotions plummeting further, her fiancé excused them, and they retired to bed.
Gratefully, the night slipped by like a cat squeezing through barbed fences, without further wounds or the terror of wolves lurking behind.
At around seven a.m, the agents dropped them off at the port, and they safely boarded the Meridian cruise, with Rome as their destination in mind.
Yet, before they drove away, she thanked them again for everything they'd done. Especially for agreeing to keep an eye on her aunt and uncle, as well as Ishmael's movements, as Rhett had asked them to.
How could she ever repay them for their kindness? She couldn't express how grateful she was to them.
Truly, her Father's archangels in human skin. To sacrifice their time and energy for a stranger, especially given the strain their occupation must put them under, these were the souls who remind her how beautiful life could still be in this wayward world.
As she admired the morning ocean view through the floor-to-ceiling window of their Junior Suite, she was astonished to find a black duffle bag he'd summoned out of nowhere.
From it, he pulled out a laptop and a charger,
and she caught a glimpse of him checking a long-baralled pistol,
and whatever else she couldn't make out.
Even though she hadn't asked, he explained that someone had prepared it for him. She wondered, then, how she had probably missed the tiny, innocuous details alluding to the kind of work he did, even as they spent so much time together, lived in the same apartment, and slept in the same bed.
Her anger had long since evaporated, although she doubted she had felt any at all.
She had only been so heartbroken over his decision to deprive her of her freedom of choice by allowing her to build a relationship with him while he hid a significant part of his identity. And if the incident with Ishmael hadn't happened, she shuddered to
think about how she would have bound herself in marriage to a man whose secret undermined the very foundation of marriage grounded in honesty.
He was forgiven, and she hoped he would forgive her, too, for in her
rashness, she had said things she hadn't meant.
Although that didn't mean everything would go back to the way it was before.
Hopefully, it would, soon. But for now, she was
still hurting, regretting her words, yet still hurting.
Before long, she would have to curl up on the bed, writhing in pain, and ignoring him wouldn't get her anywhere.
As fate would have it, her period had started.
She rarely had painful periods and generally had healthy cycles, although occasionally, the first or second day brought on annoying cramps. Perhaps, due to all the stress surrounding everything that had happened, it had been especially harrowing this time.
He'd been worried when she told him about it, and, after making sure she would be fine until he returned, headed to the ship's medical centre.
He soon returned with painkillers, sanitary pads, and disposable heat patches.
With a light brunch, she took the medicine, applied the heat patch to her lower abdomen, curled up against him, and soon fell asleep as the pain eased.
She awoke to darkness outside, warm against him and cosy beneath the sheets, as snow fell upon the private balcony beyond the window. As he stirred from sleep and found her already awake, her cramps having eased,
he had the audacity to make a corny joke about sparing her from painful periods for nine months.
Rolling her eyes, she turned onto her side, only for him to laugh
and pull her back against him, pressing small kisses to her neck and shoulder before finding her lips.
Before dinner, whatever strain remained between them had considerably eased. He apologized again, and she did the same. All was forgiven.
But was it?
The second day on the cruise hadn't been much different from the previous one, except that her cramps were milder, and it included more kisses, cuddles, conversations, a movie, and Bible readings.
The third day hadn't been much different, either, but her cramps had completely vanished, although the discomfort of her period remained.
He still kept checking his laptop or phone, watching for any threat to their peace, whether at sea or aboard the cruise ship.
He had even memorised the ship's blueprint while she clung to him, snacking on savoury-flavoured peanuts and reading an ebook, which wasn't quite as pleasurable as reading a physical book. She wondered then how much hard work had gone into making him such a competent agent at so young an age,
considering he was only five years older than her.
She had asked him, "How old were you when you were recruited into EIS?"
"Eighteen," he replied. "I began training at seventeen, after I finished secondary school."
Frowning, she added, "You said your father was an agent too? Did he tell you and your mother?"
He paused, hesitation creasing his brow, aware of how little consideration and trust he had shown her.
When he said in a meek voice that his mother had known, and that his father had told him when he was old enough to understand, her heart ached at having been a little wicked. Although, she pitied herself, too.
She had asked him about his workshop, to which he replied that it was his passion, as well as a cover job.
Praying she wouldn't add salt to the wound, she inquired, a slight waver in her voice, about how his father had died.
Not the fabricated version he'd given the world, but the truth, the one she knew he had shunned when he said his father had died in an accident.
To her dread and dismay, he revealed that his father had died on a mission.
"If our situation improved someday," she asked quietly, "would you continue being an agent?"
"Not if it bothers you," he had answered, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
She remained silent for a long moment, unwanted thoughts creeping into her mind. Considering their future, their marriage, and eventually children, should God bless them, she didn't want him to continue. She didn't want to lose him.
She wouldn't know what to do with herself.
But she didn't say that aloud. She didn't know why.
"I meant to tell you, Angel." He pressed his lips into her hair. "I kept thinking I'd find the right moment.
But the longer I waited, the harder it became."
She sighed and placed the half-finished packet of peanuts aside, then nestled comfortably against him, unwilling to talk about it anymore.
She thought about how lonely he must have been, given his personality and the nature of his work, which demanded such exhaustive secrecy, with no friends, family, or relatives to turn to.
Truly, he had God, but still. She wondered, then, why he had chosen to become an agent when he enjoyed working with cars. But she hadn't the heart to ask, so she kept the question simmering to herself.
Her heart aching for him, she wanted to cocoon him in so much love and comfort that the years of pain and loneliness he had endured would completely fade away. Then a new light dawned upon her, and she spoke to her Father about how perfectly suited Rhett truly was for her, and another reason why He, too, approved of him as her lover, now fiancé, and eventually husband.
For, if Rhett hadn't been who he was, she wouldn't be wrapped in his embrace now. And God knew what that mad Ishmael might have done to her otherwise.
On the fourth day, the thirtieth, they finally ventured out of their cabin and had breakfast of sausage and egg salad in the open-seating dining area, beneath the winter sunshine, with fresh salt air and the soothing sound of ocean waves around them.
Something peculiar but delightful happened when a little boy sauntered towards their table.
His clear, turquoise-green eyes, the most beautiful shade she had ever seen glinted as he observed her, before suddenly declaring,
"You are the most beautiful princess I ever saw."
The unexpected compliment caught her so off guard that she could only stare back at him.
Her fiancé glanced around for anyone responsible for the child, but found no one. There were very few people chatting over their late breakfast, and no one seemed inclined to pay the little boy any attention.
As the boy continued looking at her adorably with those big, beautiful turquoise-green eyes, she couldn't help caressing his soft caramel-brown curls.
"And you're the most handsome little prince I've ever seen."
He beamed so brightly that her chest ached, when her fiancé asked,
"Who are you? And where are your parents?"
"My name is Noah," the boy replied. "Papa went to the bathroom and still hasn't come back."
"Can I sit with you, Princess?" the boy inquired.
She smiled, but before she could heartily agree to keep the child company until his father came back, the man had
already returned and was walking towards them.
"Noah." The tall man, probably in his thirties, looked relieved and Noah ran towards
him, and he welcomed his son with open arms.
"Didn't I tell you to remain where you were?" he gently chided, scooping his son into his arms.
"But I met a princess," Noah replied earnestly.
The man sighed, then glanced towards them and bowed slightly. "Thank you for looking after my son. I hope he didn't bother you?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. Noah's a delight."
"Then, if you'll excuse us," he said. "Say thank you, Noah."
"Thank you, Princess. Bye-bye." Noah waved at them as his father walked away. Smiling, she waved back, endeared by the father-and-son duo.
"What a strange child," Rhett said, lifting his glass for a sip.
"Strange?" Neva asked, working her knife and fork through the sausage before taking a bite.
"Strange," he echoed, nodding. "Although he's right."
"About what?" she returned.
A small smile touched his lips. "That you look like a princess. Like one of those Disney
princesses, though you're even more beautiful."
"You flatter me," she said, blinking at him. "I could say you're more
handsome than any Disney prince, but you're more like a knight in shining armour to me."
He laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I like that."
She smiled, and their tête-à-tête soon took a twirl towards their plans for the day: running a few fun errands in preparation for tomorrow's New Year's celebrations aboard the cruise ship, and experience a few arts and entertainment before dinner.
On the thirty-first of December, having woken up late, they remained somewhat idle in bed until one o'clock, for the weather had been rather gloomy.
Her period was over, yet the particular sensitivity she often experienced during that time still lingered, leaving her feeling unusually overwhelmed and numb, longing for her aunt and uncle.
They were supposed to spend New Year's together, and she would finally have introduced her
fiancé to them, regardless of what they might think of her getting engaged at such a young age.
A refreshing bath barely improved her mood,
and she found herself wondering what might have been had she not been at home that Christmas evening but with him in his workshop instead.
But the ways of the world would have caught up with her eventually, anyway.
When he went to take a bath, she curled up on the bed and cried, muffling her sobs against the duvet, thinking how she had only just begun taking her baby steps towards true freedom as an adult, yet somehow had ended up at sea, stranded, staring into nothingness, and grieving
her future, her dreams, and her life in Erriador.
She felt sorry, so sorry for having dragged him into this.
And what if she couldn't meet his expectations as a wife, for there was no Aunt to guide her anymore?
What if one day he would regret her and think all this sacrifice hadn't been worth it?
One negative thought unravelled another, until she had become caught in a spider's web, fluttering helplessly like a butterfly while the spider crept closer and closer, threatening to tear her apart.
Suffocating within the four walls of the cabin, she wrapped a shawl around herself and slipped out of the room before he could step out of the bathroom and find her in such a dishevelled state.
She didn't want to worry him any further, not with the burden he was already carrying.
And she was still bruised by his secret, for he had become the most important person in her life.
She barely noticed anyone passing by as she crossed the corridor towards the deck, the cold, salty breeze kissing her cheeks
as she made her way towards the railings.
The cries of seagulls and the roar of the ocean rose and fell in such a rhythmic flow that their sounds were music to her ears, soothing her more than
the most beautiful songs, as though nature were making amends for the faults of human beings.
Staring into the endless blue sea, with a white patch of sea foam in the distance, she sank into thoughtlessness, not a morose kind of hollowness, but a serene kind of emptiness.
She thinks now of how fortunate she actually is, for she still has her Father looking after her, her fiancé, who would go to any lengths for her, and this open sky, this salty air,
this boundless blue ocean, a New Year's celebration to look forward to, and tomorrow to hope for.
Footsteps sounds behind her, and she turns to find a young man making his way towards her. She pays him little attention until he quietly takes his place beside her. She doesn't mind his presence,
for he remains at a comfortable distance from her.
"Are you lost, dear?" he asks, and she takes a moment to consider whether the question was meant for her.
Yet, glancing his way, she finds his hazel-brown eyes already fixed on hers,
the wind stirring his umber curls.
"A little," she answers, astonishing herself by confiding in a stranger.
He smiles, saying, "I hope you know you can always come to Him, for He is gentle in heart and
humble in spirit, and in Him, you will always find rest."
She blinks at him, awed by the comfort a stranger's words could bring her.
Truly, God works in the most mysterious of ways.
"May I—"
"Neva!" Her fiancé's voice cuts her off mid-reply, and she finds him striding towards them.
His hard gaze flicks from her to the man beside her, whose name she has wanted to ask because he seems so kind.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice devoid of warmth.
"I came out for some fresh air," she replies, but his hand closes around her wrist as he pulls her away.
Anxious at his demeanour, she glances back to find the man already gone.
"Didn't I tell you not to go out without me?" he snaps. "And talking to a stranger? Alone?"
She tries to pull her hand free, but he only tightens his grip. "Let me go. You're hurting me—"
"Are you still angry with me?" he asks, continuing to pull her towards their cabin, when a crew member pushing a housekeeping cart past them appears amused by her predicament. "If you want to punish me, do it while you're beside me."
"Let go of me, Rhett!"
She exclaims, tears burning in her eyes from a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
As though realising his mistake,
he loosens his grip, and she wrenches her wrist away and marches towards their cabin in tears.
"Angel," he says, following after her.
If she didn't know better, she would have slammed the door in his face and locked him out of the cabin, but she doesn't.
He catches her by the elbow,
halting her mid-step, and she turns to glare at him, her chest tight with swelling emotions.
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" she retorts harshly, her voice firm despite the slight tremble in it.
"I'm sorry," he says, remorse filling his gaze as he reaches to touch her face.
She turns her face away, unwilling to be coddled just now.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, pulling her close by the waist instead. This time, she doesn't
resist, pressing her brow against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Angel," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair as he holds her tightly. "I was only worried."
She weeps quietly against him, her fingers curling into his jacket as she wishes she could stop the tears.
"How do I make it up to you, Angel?" he asks quietly.
She doesn't answer. Can't. Only wanting him not to see her face.
"I can't bear starting the New Year with you still upset with me," he says, gently stroking her hair.
She wants to tell him that she isn't upset with him, not anymore,
only that it feels as though the whole world is against her, testing her, testing them, and their faith.
"Angel—"
"I'm not upset with you," she cuts him off.
A pause. "You're not?"
She doesn't reply, and he doesn't press her, simply holding her as muffled sounds drift into their cabin from the corridor, their door not properly shut.
"You haven't had anything to eat, Angel. Let me order room service."
She shakes her head against him.
"Would you prefer to eat somewhere else?" he asks.
Her silence is her answer enough, and he presses a kiss to her hair.
"Alright. Dress warmly. We need to catch up on our dance lessons, don't we? Or have you forgotten?"
"I haven't."
"Good. We can't have you embarassed in front of everyone because of me."
A small smile tugs at her lips despite herself, then she gently pulls away,
her expression once again devoid of it.
He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Go wash your face. I'll be waiting here."
She nods and turns to leave, but he doesn't let go, instead drawing her close for a kiss.
"I love you, Angel," he murmurs, his brow resting against hers. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," she whispers, and he presses a kiss to her forehead.
"I can't wait to show you off in your new dress," he says, attempting to lighten her mood.
She smiles, and he leans in to kiss her again, her arms slipping around his neck as she yields to him all the same.