Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

A late warm balmy noon, in the soft balcony, on a wooden vintage chair, Neva sits accross Mrs. Barlowe, chatting away the while. A wooden cafe table separating—in the midst.

The ground month of spring; the April has set it's first foot on the earth. Clouds drifts in the sky, a curtain to the brilliant sun, casting shadows over the shining roof every other swirl of the wind.

The flying leaf of the never changing trees, humming harmonies. Whispers sweet the floral breeze, stroking Neva's argent, honey skin.

"Your little meadow is blooming proud." Remarks Mrs. Barlowe, glimpsing over Neva's front yard. A white teacup printed in flowery pink and white—raised near her lips.

She sips the fruity, sugary, delicate white tea, the sweetness in her tongue and nose, refreshing her utterly.

A teacup in Neva's own hands, lowered down, she peers ahead her glowing flowers. She smiles, a deep satisfaction setting—floating in her heart.

She had been swimming in the pleasure of gardening these goneby weeks. She loves the vibrant little meadow she's designed of her tiny unadorned yard.

So far her fresh garden was encircled by lavious green ash trees and boxelder maples, wild roses and ivy weeds. As long as she lives here, she wishes to home her environment close.

Her husband had an assisting hand in arranging the soil and paying for her gleaming flowers. Caring and intense, he paralleled the deep affection of Neva's style in adorning her garden. Granting her all access to his work in the yard for his lovely wife.

Golden bees, and kaleidoscopic butterflies, they fly over Neva's beautiful flowers. "It sure is." Returns Neva, a soothing smile drawn on her lips.

Mrs. Barlowe gazes back at Neva, her non-amateur eyes scrutinizing her frame. "You are with child my dear, are you not?" Probes Mrs. Barlowe, bringing Neva's sight on her. She's stunned from the elder's sudden words.

Neva places down her teacup, resting it gently down on it's paired saucer.

At the center of the table, by a white teapot, lay a plate with cookies almost eaten away.

She doesn't see why should she secrete or lie from the kind Mrs. Barlowe.

"I am. How did you catch on?" Neva asks, what was so noticeable about her? Her swelling womb barely even showed when naked.

"It is the years of seeing the world my dear." She smiles, as she takes another sip from the tea Neva made.

Neva stares at her, amused. In a blink of a turning moment, loud and shrilling happy meows echoes round Neva's yard. Neva in a breeze grasps the little kitty running to her—cozy in her arms.

Behind Ella, Anna rushes after, her breathing heavy and hard. Neva smiles bright, greeting the little orange kitty cocooned up in her lap. Neva awes at her so great. She's such lovely kitty, rubbing her cheek on Neva's hand.

"My goodness dear Anna, look at you so tarnished!" Mrs. Barlowe exclaims aloud. Anna slows down her strides, exhausted yet glad the naughty kitty finally ceased her provoke on her.

"Ella is the one to be blamed!" Huffs Anna, resting herself on a chair nearby Neva. Neva smiles at her, greeting her, as the now gleeful Anna, fond of Neva, smiling bright greets her back.

"My dear, you cannot always run after the indecent cat." Remarks Mrs. Barlowe, squinting at the kitty, drawing a little furstrated pout on Anna's lips.

Ella purrs on Neva's lap, loved so well, scratched so pleased. "She loves you big sister." Says Anna, amazed since the bratty Ella abhors touches other than her father or her own.

"You think so?" Asks Neva, looking at Anna. Anna nods deep, diving back to the elapsed months Ella had run away from home to Neva's own.

"Well my dear Mrs. Lei, may I ask how many months are you in?" Queries Mrs. Barlowe, garnering Neva's consciousness on her.

"Around three months." She answers, forming out a knowing, "Oh," from Mrs. Barlowe's lips. "Months concerning what?" Confused Anna asks, having being stumbled upon the tail of the conversation.

Neva blushes rosy at Anna's query. Muddled to satisfy such curiosity.

"The three months are the age of the babe in Mrs. Lei's womb my dear." Replies Mrs. Barlowe, all to Neva's release.

Anna gasps, astonishment and bewilderment lacing her eyes. "Really? There is a baby in your tummy?" Asks Anna, to which Neva nods, with a smile adorning her pretty lips.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Curiosity brims Anna's eyes, her gaze threaded on Neva's womb. Neva smiles. "We don't know yet."

"I shall be here to aid you in the journey of motherhood my dear. Just yell out to me and I will be here." Reasures Mrs. Barlowe, a soft smile on her lips. Their cottages not too far distant from each other, even though Neva's home was a little closed off from the rest of the peaceful neighborhood.

Neva's heart warms up, deep down, somewhere within the abyss of her thoughts, she's concerned and afraid if she could care for her child well enough. Her husband has been a great support and comfort.

Nevertheless, guide and reassurances from a fellow woman, who had raised children and mastered the motherhood serenes her, filling the hollow of kindheartedness in the chest.

⑅ ⑅ ⑅

The evening swirled in fast, Rhett had returned home and showered fresh. Now he helps Neva in the kitchen, sharing words of their day, a little apart from one other.

Giggles hovers the air, he sprinkles kisses on Neva's cheek, down to her neck. Peeling away the prairie dress, in lieu his soft lips warming her shoulders, he smooches there loving kisses.

His chest connected to her back, his arms wrapped around Neva's waist.

She places down the knife on the chopping board, pervaded of half chopped luscious green brocollis and slender asparagus—for her planned dish: chicken, asparagus and brocolli stir fry.

She let's her hands grip his larger ones—she sighs, tranquiled, giving in to his affection.

Shattering their serenity, rude, violent knocks along with, restless doorbells on the entrance claws the peaceful, premature night.

Neva's heart thumps hard, she gets terrified. She looks at him with her frightened eyes. Baring his lips from her moist neck, Rhett sighs, pinching back the slid garment on her shoulder to it's graceful place.

He moves apart from her—agitated by the cruel intruder.

"Stay inside." Is all he says—walking inside their room. He walks out through the door a moment after—pacing his way to the noisy door, and he is converged with a distressed Neva in the living room.

"It's alright Angel, wait here. I'll be back soon." He gently assures, comforting hand cupping her cheek.

Behind the door, examining the intruding visitors outside—through the peep hole, he scowls at them. Glancing back at her, Neva behind him, grabs his arm, fearful of who to reveal beyond the door. She's almost in tears, she doesn't want to go through pain, not again, not this night.

"It's fine, they were to be expected." Rhett murmers to Neva. He smiles at her, caressing her hand—and squeezing it softly.

Cracking the door open, two women stands before the doorway, and behind them are two boys, immobalized on a wheelchair.

The hyenas, who creeped in on Neva a month before, their disgusting scheme to swallow her soul.