Even with the remnants of a hazy dream threading through Neva's waking world, a smile curls on her lips—
for today… today is Christmas Day!
Her smile widens. Oh, what a blessed morning to awaken with the imprint of euphoria woven through her body and soul.
So she prays in gratitude to her Heavenly Father, for all He has given her, and for His guidance and blessings before stepping into this beautiful Christmas morning.
She stretches slowly, her eyes blinking as they adjust to the faint glow of dawn filtering through the lacy curtains.
Rhett's side of the bed lies cold, yet she doesn't fret much. He often rises before her to train, keeping that Greek-god physique of his in perfect form.
Yet, she lets out an exasperated huff as she slides her feet into her fluffy indoor slippers.
How dare he be so unfairly perfect?
And how come she's the luckiest girl in the world—to have him as her lover?
She smiles at her scarlet-cheeked reflection in the full-length Victorian mirror,
twirling a curl around her finger as the rest spill unbound along her back.
With her heart blooming like a spring garden even in the midst of winter, she reaches for the doorknob and pulls it open.
She freezes, heart lurching so hard against her ribs she could almost hear the thump as it settles back into place.
Her hands fly to her mouth.
Is this a dream—is she still dreaming?
Because... because… all around the Christmas tree, shimmering with fairy lights and glass menageries, blooms a living garden, spilling over with roses… endless roses… and more roses…
It's a rose garden—her living room.
Her heart stumbles another beat at the sight of him—Rhett, sprawled on the couch, grinning, his cheek resting lazily against his hand.
"Rhett..." she breathes. What in the world...
He walks toward her through the sea of roses, and for a heartbeat, in his eyes, she catches a flicker of fear.
His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and then he sinks to one knee before her.
She can't move... she can't move... she can't think at all.
Her whole world narrows to him—to this impossibly handsome man on one knee, a diamond ring held out for her.
"Angel…" he starts, then shakes his head.
"I don't even know where to begin."
He lifts his gaze to hers, smiling faintly.
"Whatever you've done to me, Neva… I hope you'll take full responsibility for it."
Her eyes burn as tears threaten to spill.
"The moment I met you, Neva, I knew you were the one." A soft chuckle slips through.
"Back then, though… you were killing me. Sometimes I thought you hated me."
"I did not." She bites her lip to hold back its tremble.
He smiles. "It's all so new to me, too…
but I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
"I want a life with you, Neva… I want to be there for every moment of your life." He lets out a slow, steady breath.
"Will you marry me…?" he asks, his eyes soft, brimming with hope and love.
"Oh, Rhett…" she murmurs, dropping to her knees.
He wraps her in his arms as she melts against him, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. If this is a dream, she prays her Father will let it never end.
"Say something..." He inhales shakily. "You're scaring me."
"You do know I'm only eighteen, right?" she says, her words muffled against him.
"So what?" he shoots back instantly.
A soft chuckle escapes her.
"Marry me… please," he says softly.
Her hands cradle his face as she presses her forehead to his. "Yes," she whispers, swallowing hard. "Yes… I'll marry you."
He lets out a shuddering breath.
"Say it again," he murmurs, eyes drinking her in.
She brushes her cheeks and laughs lightly. "Yes… I'll marry you."
Her ethereal face wavers before him as his own eyes sting with tears. Oh God, he's so happy he can hardly breathe.
"Give me your hand, Angel," he whispers.
She beams as he takes her soft hand, brushing a kiss across it.
Heart pounding in his ears, he slips the ring onto her fourth finger.
Its diamonds are arranged in delicate petals, a tiny bloom glinting in the dim golden light.
"It's beautiful..." Her face softens with awe.
"How… when did you—" Her gaze sweeps across the rose-filled living room.
"I had no idea," she whispers, tears sparkling as her eyes lock with him.
A chuckle rumbles from him as he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "I borrowed a few hands when you were sleeping." He kisses her slowly, every teasing brush of lips tasting her, every nerve alive with the disbelief that his most beautiful dream has been made real.
"It's the best Christmas of my life," he murmurs against her lips.
"You know, Mr…" Her eyes lift to his, lashes wet with shimmering tears.
"You need to meet my aunt and uncle too, don't you?"
She boops his nose, grinning slyly.
"Oh no," he mutters, gaping.
It had completely slipped his mind.
She tilts her head back, laughter spilling from her lips.
And he lingers here, savoring the miracle that is she—his fiancée. His lips find hers again in a feverish kiss.
Even eternity would fall short of the time he longs to spend with her.
⑅ ⑅ ⑅ ⑅
Christmas has fallen into a hush as Neva sinks into her couch. A book in hand, she wraps herself in a warm, comforting duvet.
Her eyes wander across the living room, fairy lights twinkling on the towering Christmas tree in a cascade of golden magic. She presses her book to her lips, a squeal barely held back as the roses overflow in a riot of color around her.
A full day has passed since he asked her to be his wife.
Church service, a cozy restaurant date, the ride back home.
Yet, it all drifts past like a dream. If Christmas could just linger a little longer, just for them.
He's been away for a few hours, called to his workshop.
She barely had him back after such long, agonizing days, and yet the world seems determined to steal him from her—even on Christmas Eve.
She lifts her hand, still mesmerized by the ring that blooms like a perfect flower.
Light dances across its facets, throwing kaleidoscopic sparks into the golden glow of the living room.
It must have been worth a small fortune.
And with the flowers…
She sucks in a sharp breath, feeling a pang of inadequacy. All she could offer him for Christmas was a modest watch.
A buzz pulls her gaze to the phone on the coffee table, resting next to the roses.
The name on the caller ID makes her answer the phone immediately.
Emma squeals on the other end of the line, making Neva laugh along.
"I can't believe it—you're really getting married!" Emma practically screams. "I need to know it all! Every little detail!"
A swarm of butterflies dances wildly in Neva's belly, her mind tracing back to the man responsible for this rush of euphoria flooding through her.
"Tell me about your date, Emma," Neva says, shifting the conversation with a touch of curiosity.
"Oh, just a cute little Christmas date with Zedd—but never mind that, tell me everything about yours!" she gushes. "Darling, you're going to make the most perfect bride!"
Neva bites her lip, trying to hold back her smile, and failing. "And you'll make the most perfect bridesmaid."
"I know!" Emma declares. "If not me—then who?!
A quiet chuckle slips from Neva. She'd told Emma about the proposal earlier that morning.
But caught up in their separate to-do lists, this moment is where she can truly bask in it—sharing it like girlfriends always do.
"Just imagine! I'm still completely flabbergasted—my shy little bestie, Neva, getting married!" Emma laughs. A shuffle follows on her end, like a cabinet opening and shutting, then a light clink of glass.
Neva smiles, pulling the blanket closer around her as she nestles deeper against the cushions. "So, Emma, you're visiting tomorrow with Zedd, right?"
"Oh, please—I wouldn't miss your food for anything in the world!" Emma exclaims.
"Good," Neva says, her smile lingering.
"By the way," Emma adds, pausing to take a sip, "I saw the picture you sent—and oh my heart, Neva…" She lets out a dramatic sigh. "It's absolutely perfect!"
A giggle slips past her lips. "I know."
"I cannot wait for the wedding shopping and everything!" Emma shrieks with excitement. "I'm so freaking excited!"
Neva's own excitement swells, fed by the happiness spilling from her friend.
Her heart softening in gratitude for the way Emma rejoices with her.
"I'm so glad to have you, Emma," Neva whispers.
"Oh, come on, darling." Emma's voice is soft but playful. "You know I'm always here for you. Now don't make me too emotional—if I start crying, I'll never stop."
Neva only smiles.
"So, where's the wedding destination?" Emma's voice overlaps with the sudden chime of Neva's doorbell.
"Uh, we haven't decided yet," Neva says, her eyes flicking toward the door. "Emma, I'll call you later, alright? Someone's here."
"Alright, girl. And congratulations—again!" Emma chirps, and the call ends in a flurry of quick goodbyes.
Neva's heart flutters with eager anticipation as she makes her way across the foyer, hoping to find her fiancé on the other side.
She flings the door open with a grin,
only to freeze as her eyes meet the face she's been aching to see again.
"Neva," he breathes.
He's a devastatingly handsome man.
But... something inside her shrinks at the force of his gaze.
He has Rhett's face—but he isn't Rhett.
He can't be. Her soul refuses to recognize him.
It's like a a bad shadow that clings to him.
Did Rhett ever speak of a brother?
They look far too alike...
She tilts her head, taking him in. No… on closer inspection, the resemblance is thin at best. His hair is longer, and her fiancé is undeniably more attractive.
Beside, their voices are different too.
"Do I know you, mister?" she asks, as his silence stretches between them.
His lips part, then press together again.
He swallows hard, throat bobbing. "It's me. Ishmael."
She frowns. "Ishmael?"
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry—I don't remember that name."
A flicker of something like pain crosses his face.
She bites her lip, watching him linger in silence, his eyes cast down before they rise to meet hers again.
"Is—is your name not Neva?" he asks.
A flicker of caution passes through her as she nods. "It is."
Then she lowers her head. "Then, goodnight."
She begins to close the door.
"Wait!" His hand slams against the door, stopping it.
She freezes as he pulls it open again.
"Wait," he whispers, softer this time.
She swallows, her pulse quickening under the weight of his gaze.
"I just—" He looks away, raking a hand through his hair.
He turns back to her, meeting her eyes. "Come with me."
She isn't sure she heard him correctly. "What?"
"Come with me, Neva," he says softly.
"No." She takes a step back.
Her eyes flick to the door, and a surge of adrenaline propels her toward it.
She gasps as he grabs the door, forcing it to stay in place under his grip.
"Let it go," she snaps, shoving against the door with both hands, her strength straining against his unyielding hold.
"Let go, or I'll scream." Her glare cuts up at him.
He doesn't budge.
"Help—" The cry dies as his hand clamps over her mouth.
Her eyes widen as he forces her inside, his other hand closing the door behind them.
Oh God oh God this can't be right!
A surge of panic drives her as she bites his hand, making him wince.
She shoves him back and stumbles across the foyer, scrambling toward the living room.
She fumbles, through the blanket on the couch for her phone, nearly sighing in relief when she sees it on the coffee table.
She straightens instantly as the man enters the living room.
Then he stops, his gaze drifting over the sea of roses surrounding them.
A muscle ticks in his jaw as his gaze locks onto her again.
But she's already racing toward the bedroom.
Her call connects, Rhett's voice breaking through after two rings.
"Angel—"
She cries out as the man forces the door open before she can shut it.
"Angel, what is it—" His panicked voice shatters as the man rips the phone from her grasp and hurls it across the room.
She staggers back, terror ripping through her bones as he stalks closer, his gaze
bleak, that of a wounded predator.
"I mean you no harm." His voice is low, eerily calm.
Her breath turns ragged as her back collides with the cold wall.
He stops a step away—and she goes completely still as he reaches behind him and draws a gun.
He inspects the pistol—then, with a quiet click, disengages the safety.
She clenches her fists as he reaches for her hand. A shudder tears through her as he forces the gun into her grip,
guiding her fingers to the trigger.
He closes the distance, his hands enveloping hers around the gun as he presses the barrel to his own chest.
He smiles faintly. "If you don't kill me this instant.
I'll follow you like a shadow—" He breathes in her ear, "Anywhere, everywhere."
"Please… please…" Her words fade as a stabbing pain twists through her neck.
Her fingers loosen on the pistol.
For a moment, she feels as if she's falling, then darkness consumes her.