Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

Gentle fingers brushes her features, the lovely face of an Angel, who slumbers deep. Safe and tangled in the warm bedsheets, Rhett admires close in the lost morn, his beautiful Neva.

His strokes strings to her blossoming lips, and her veiled lids flickers. Neva leisurely flutters her eyes open. Blesses her newborn eyes his handsome face.

Siren almond yearning eyes, forms an adorable doe—as he threads with the soothing sonorous round almond eyes of his wife. He caresses her jawline, brushing ever so delicately.

"Did I wake you up?" Rhett's soft, deep voice queries. In response she hums shallowly. "I'm sorry, but I missed you." He gently kisses her on the lips. She smiles, returning back the love motion of the lips.

"Happy birthday." He greets, lovingly kissing her on the forehead, her soft cheeks, her pointed nose and on her pretty lips once more.

"Thank you." Neva whispers, smiling, snuggling closer to him.

"Do you feel alright?" His worried gaze scrutinizes her, he tucks her light, loose hair strands behind the ear. She had a rough night. Throwing up countless of times, anxious, he almost called for a medical transport in the middle of the night.

Only when did she tell, it's normal in the first trimester, did dim the fearfulness from his eyes. She had it rather easy the weeks before. Nevertheless, the night gone by had him petrified.

She could only rest well, when it had come to three in the night. Now laces remorse in his orbs, for he had stirred awake his sleeping wife again.

"I feel a little green, and my tummy hurts a bit." She murmers frailly, his eyes shadows a deep worry. "And?" He asks, his hand floating down to caress her abdomen. "Other than those, I feel fine." She assures.

He rubs her firm abdomen gently, "Our baby's growing bigger," in awe he peers at her. She chuckles lightly, "Is it? Baby must be the size of an olive."

"Really?" His innocent, sparkling eyes surprised. She nods in reply. "What do you think the gender is? He or she?" He asks, his fingers circling softly her stretching womb.

"Tonight, I dreamed of having a boy." She says, eyes glistening from the sweet memory of her dream. He smiles, "A boy huh?"

"And if it's a girl?" He tightens his hold on her. "Then it's a girl." She returns. He smooches her forehead, her eyes closening a little.

"Do you want to go on a date, to celebrate your birthday?" Rhett queries, Neva shakes her head. "I don't want to leave the bed."

"Some special cravings?" He asks, wondering if he could make her something good. "Nothing," Neva responds, veiling her eyes to sleep a lot more.

"Not even your favourite strawberry shortcakes?" He makes it sanguine, her eyes fires open, "Strawberry shortcakes? Where did you find it?"

"I made a special arrangement." He affirms, kissing the cute smiley Neva. "It's been so long." Her dazed eyes, calls to mind, of the first day they had met. "Are you recalling back our first time?" He asks, she looks at him, nodding with a smile that reaches her eyes.

"You were seriously a strange stalker!" She exclaims, playfully glaring at her husband. He chuckles—cupping her cheek, "I couldn't help it, you are so beautiful...I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you." He smiles, so sugary merry—stroking her fair cheek.

Neva blushes cherry, pouting her lips 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 there." He smirks, having her shrink from the reddened features.

"Look at now, I can kiss you, make love to you..." He kisses her deeply, "However, whenever I want." He dives for her lips once more, she presses her finger on his lip—sending the frowning Rhett still in his place. "Enough kisses, I'm feeling nauseous." Neva declares, her belly queasy again.

⑅ ⑅ ⑅

The evening warm, sweet breeze drifts around. Neva rests in her front green little yard, cozied up in a wooden arm chair, softly cushioned, wrapped in a cosy duvet.

The orange sun swirls leisurely down the west. Her back leaned, in her hand, she reads a satire book. She breathes out, the nature soothing her soul. She places the open book to her chest, and peers round her smallish garden.

Wooden fence encircling the cottage house, the land owner had planted the now grown trees, and painted the yard a little shadowy. Bushes of wild pink roses, arising in the perfect corners, flowering even in winter.

The white baby breaths and blue cornflower, she planted by the tiny balcony of the homey cottage. In a distance, birds sings in the air, their lyrics and tune, she sadly couldn't recall of.

Out of the blue, the startling orange little being, bounces over the short fence—and into her little yard, she dreams to draw a garden.

A hand on her chest, Neva almost had her heart spring out afraid. Meows the little naughty kitten. Peering at Neva with it's black and golden cat eyes.

Neva smiles, the orange kitty, Anna's loving Ella. "Come to me Ella." Neva cooes, as the cat, sparing not a blink, runs towards her, meowing louder in ecstasy.

Neva places the cat on her lap, loafing up on her warm embrace, Ella purrs happily. Neva giggles, covering them both up with the duvet she had agaped for the kitty to enter.

Rhett from out their open entrance door, saunters towards the cooing Neva. He creases his brows, the familiar meows itching the ears.

"Angel, let's go in." He says, bending down and pecking her on the cheek. She looks up at him, "Okay. Ella let's go in." She speaks to the cat. He shakes his head, "No orange cat today."

Neva pouts, "Please..." She gives him those innocent, begging eyes he gives her.

He huffs, "The cat must've sneaked out, it's owner must be worried." Neva glances at the resting kitty, "Well I'll just inform Anna later. Anyway, Ella never loses her way home." She grins down at the kitty, rubbing her chin—Ella purring in her lap.

He sighs, "Alright my stubborn wife. It's getting cold," he declares, helping her to arise on her feet.

She smiles giddily, holding Ella in her arms—strolling inside the warmth of her house. Rhett trails her steps, with the chair and duvet in his grasp.