Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

A mellow securing April dusk, soothing breeze in the air—wavering the marvellous leaves of the silver maple, ash and boxelder trees.

Blooming roses, poppies, cornflowers, daisies, dahlias, cosmos, claytonias, gypsophilas and more—adorns Neva's little cottage garden.

She rests in her cosy balcony, on a cushioned wooden arm chair. Beautified in a pleasant, white floral, summer coquette dress. The soothing weather, the golden dusk, the amusing breeze, the sweet smell of April in the air, tranquils Neva's soul.

In her engaged hands, she with such tenderness knits a light blue sock for a newborn baby. She had so far finished knitting a beanie with earflaps, and abundant pairs of beige and grey booties.

Her husband having to be away from her, for his job in the close countryside, she had immersed herself in caring for the home, gardening, knitting and crocheting needs for her baby.

He was not a billionaire, he could not possibly afford all the expenses while resting comfortably at home, the stability in his account striked a great strain the bygone, intense months.

And with a baby on the way, he couldn't let his net amount dry out, and thus, he found himself a job in a countryside auto repair shop, offering a generous salary.

He could make good money off being an Agent of EIS. There was a certain fun, escapade and satisfaction in being a soldier.

But he had to fall in love, and the precious woman he fell for stormed in occurence one wouldn't find the most convenient. He wished to marry her, and she did, now she bears a child for him, and he would ensure his little family would have the most warmth attainable.

Neva caresses her little bump, patting it fondly, gently. Her womb stretching, her belly protruding each elapse of days. Leisurely her consciousness sinks the fact down, she's indeed growing a baby inside of her. She had crossed the threshold of the second trimester, looking forward to feel the fetal movement.

She sighs softly, peering ahead, she breathes in the euphonious air. The miraculous coloring of nature before a downpour, perhaps there may be a storm nearing in the night. The sky darkening grey, black clouds shadowing the golden dusk.

Having perfectly weaved the tiny sock, she now concludes along the stitches with a yarn darner, her fingers moving ardously, sewing it to a cute little flawless sock.

Familiar sounds of strides has her look up from sewing her craft, and there, Rhett saunters through their beautiful front yard, smiling at her, having her mirror back an identical, loving smile.

She slowly arises to her feet, placing away the needle and yarn on the coffee table nearby. Walking towards him in the yard, he spreads his arms for her, cutely widening her smile. He reaches her, delight in his eyes, straight away wrapping her up in a warm, homey embrace.

"I missed you..." Murmers Neva in his chest, she peers up at him, threading those amiable eyes to his adoring gaze. He smiles so sweet at her, hand caressing her willowy hair, "I missed you more," And he passionately captures her lips. Kissing her with all the love he failed to shower her, searingly having being aloof, sole from his loving wife.

"How was work?" Strolling towards their home she asks. "It was alright." He answers, his arm protectively gird round her waist.

"And yours, how was your day? Do you feel fine?" He inquires, Neva nods in reply, "The day was fine, and I feel fine."

"What did you do today?" He asks once more, helping her step up the short stairs to their cottage.

Neva smiles at him. Parting away from him, she approaches her arm chair, grabbing the items: yarn, plastic sewing needle, scissors, knitting pins and a defined and almost completed knitted pair of socks.

"I read, strolled in the garden, and knitted..." Neva returns, walking up to him, as he stands there, awaiting her.

He smiles, discerning the piece of garment in her hold. "You made another pair?" His heart warms up, she already has such great affection for their unborn baby.

She cradles it to him, showing him her art. "I did."

"How can you be good at everything?" He wonders, taking hold of a closed tiny sock, analyzing with awe swimming in his eyes. Neva chuckles. "I'm not," uttering, she saunters towards the doorway, with a giddy Rhett trailing her behind.

"What would you like for dinner?" Neva's flowing, faint voice echoes round the cottage. "Anything you make is delicious." Shrugs Rhett, closing the door behind, their unbroken heart-to-heart, hushed inside.

In the open earth, storm brews inky far away, cold wind swaying the garden of nature: the big trees, the rugged bushes, delicate flowering plants. Weathering off the fragile bloomed. Swirling dust, crumbled leaves and worn petals in the air.

Tonight, the sky would bring more than an April shower.