Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

The funerals came to pass; of the innocents with beautiful goodbyes; of the convicted with cursed farewells. The grave for all, they say: is equivalent, and everyone merges with the dust, for you birth from the earth and after death, you are one with the earth.

Nevertheless, the life you secured, grazed one and two souls: you alter the forlornness into blessedness, tranquility into the violence of ruins. The flesh burns and shreds, ashens and dissapears, death liberates the soul, and it flies unscathed, away, far from the mortal realm.

For the soul is a breathing air, the world purifies through the vines and the olive trees, and pollutes through the meadows of black dahlias. The unclouded air; strengthens the heaven, while; the tainted smokes from the burns.

It has been an exact month: a month of tragedy, bearable miracles, declaring truce with the twisted faith. It was reckoned: approximately, the tragedy killed twenty people, whereas, fifty were fatal and non-fatally injured.

The countrypeople had to move on, as long as their remained air in the flesh, they had to go on and rise.

As they mature with the scars in the hole of the mind, they shall eventually yield the blossom of the bud.

The theives, here to kill and steal, betrayed by their own kinds. Unsuccessful of running away with the loot, the underground troops fled away empty handed; backstabbing the exiled.

In the end, as the countryfolks mourned on their knees for the annihilated Church, the cross not fallen, sun rays shone through it at the olive tree parallel to the river.

There, an unseen miracle, ray upon the persecuted, as deep under the uprooted olive tree from the storm in the morning, an antique box, brimmed with gold coins had been unravelled.

It revealed: they belonged to the countrypeople, and they shall use it to built back the sunken. The elapsed month, truly a knit of tragedy and miracles.

But, it stays: no amount of money or aid could restore the wounds in the heart for the deceased.

⁠♡

The night before dawn, Neva lay awake on the bed, her slumbering husband's loose embrace around her. The phone in her hands, the bright screen breaking through the hazy darkness in the room; she has been keeping tabs of the contractions on the timer.

"Argh," Neva exhales a low sound, pain squeezing her uterus once again. Her face scrunching up, she sucks in a deep breath. A moment later, she breaths out a sigh of succour, the ache easing away.

She turns her head to gaze at the husband sleeping soundly. "Rhett?" She calls him in a small voice.

"Rhett," she pats his arm wrapped around her. "Hmm?" He returns in a deep voice, budging not a muscle.

She angles her body to face him, "Wake up, I think I'm going into labour." "What?" Groggily he responds, his gaze on her, sleep fading from his eyes.

"The baby's coming." She reveals, her eyes uneasy. His own softening, he holds her firmer, "Are you sure? How do you feel?" He asks.

"I've been awake for almost four hours, the pain doesn't seem to go away." Neva murmers weakly, closening up to him, burying her face in his chest.

His embrace on her tender, and stronger, he warms them closer. He gently kisses the top of her head. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?

"I wasn't sure then, it started off, like mild cramps, now the pain only escalates." She replies, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Is it too painful? How long does it last?" He asks her.

"It's getting more apparent, it lasts around thirty seconds, comes about seven minutes apart." She responds, gazing up at him.

He caresses her cheek, stroking lovingly with his thumb, their eyes threaded. "Are you having contractions right now?" "No, not at the moment." She says, her eyes moistening up. "Rhett I'm scared," A tear drop rolls down her eye. His eyes tender, he wipes it off with his thumb finger.

"Don't be, I'm here." He assures, kissing her forehead affectionately. Neva shakes her head, droplets of tears streaming down her cheeks. "W-we don't even have the crib ready-" She sobs out. "Shh..." He wipes her tears once more, closening her head to his chest, placing his chin on her head, with her fists, she clenches his shirt tight.

He sighs, there had been ridiculously a lot going on from the past month, he has bought the crib, but just hadn't had time to put it up. And, there remained more than two weeks till the due date.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll get it ready once the baby's born." He reassures, kissing her on the top of her head. "It's not your fault," she says.

"What time is it?" He asks after a deep while. "Should be almost four." She replies, snuggling up to him, as he sweetly flows her hair.

(At the Hospital)

In a tub of warm water—at her body temperature, Neva lay with half her body submerged in the water, her back against the tub.

She moans in pain, her face scrunched up, sweat drizzled on her forehead, curled hair strands sticking to the sides of her face, body tensed, she cries out, squeezing his hand holding her, urging her body to push forward. Rhett crouched down beside her, on the floor, his features scared stiff, he's terrified for Neva, discerning in an agonizing pain.

He could care less, lest sense the ache she has him go through with the strength she clenches his hand.

"Okay, Mrs. Lei, you've almost made it, keep pushing." The female doctor says, her attention below, aiding to slide out the baby.

Two nurses holding her parted legs, a mid-wife by her side, along with the doctor, occupied, assisting Neva to have an unmedicated, natural birth. She sobs, her head falling back. Sensing his warm caress on her head, she glances at him, her lips trembling.

"It's so painful," she cries, tears soaking her cheeks. He leans in, kissing the side of her forehead.

"You can do it Angel, you're so brave." He whispers, as she closes her eyes, endeavouring to rest and imbibe energy, from the little moment between tormenting contractions.

"It's now, push Mrs. Lei." The doctor encourages. A contraction permeating again, Neva attempts pushing the hurt through, her face twisting in shooting pain.

Nothing, she sighs, leaning back, "I can't," she shakes her head, her voice wavering.

"Your baby's fighting hard to come into the world, please keep pushing." The doctor remarks.

Neva sucks in a sharp, quivering breath, the contraction piercing again, she groans clenching her teeth, crushing everything she has a hold on.

"It's alright, it's alright, take deep breaths." He murmers, wiping the sweat on her forehead, guiding her with the breathing illustration of his own, closing in to her, his voice warm and reasuring.

"I can see the head crowning. Keep pushing Mrs. Lei." The doctor says, glancing up at the woman shrinking in agony. The nurses exchange glances, wondering if they would have to push out the baby, pressuring through her stomach.

The compressed, cramping air lasts for minutes. In labor for almost fourteen hours now, Neva hadn't felt such narrowing, harrowing pain in all her life, she even ponders with her clouded mind; if she's really gonna die.

She could not even scream anymore, drained of vitality. And within her husband's sweet assurances and the doctor and the nurses words of encouragement. Simultaneously as the contractions strangulates her, the dizzy Neva, with all the strength left in her weakened body, groans the screaming, an unbearable pain penetrating through, with a wild intuition, a thrilling push; she finally; births the baby.

Neva gasps out, the doctor, gently brings the baby out in the surface of the water. Her body giving up, she slouches away on the tub. "Oh my God," she hears him say through her hazy mind. "12:04, September 11." One of the nurses announces.

An abrupt, loud crying of a baby, forces her to the present.

The nurses assists the doctor in wrapping up the baby, then she swiftly, places the baby on Neva's chest. She has her lips agaped, sucking in a a deep air, she embraces him, the baby hush, leaning into her warmth.

Rhett wraps his shuddering arms around her, he lovingly kisses her head, "You did it, I'm so proud of you."

Neva, with her blurry eyes looks at him with a faint smile, he smiles, feathering her lips with a tender kiss.

Their gaze then trails down at the pouting baby, he was still lightly covered in white substance and blood smeared on the towel.

The nurses looks at them with a tender smile.

Neva's gaze softens at the moving little hands of the baby, Rhett draws in close to the baby, kissing the little head.

A tear drops over the little cheek, his heart wells up, melting in happiness; they were now parents to this baby.

"Congratulations, you have a very cute babyboy." The nurse smiles, unveiling the gender they've kept secure for so long.

Neva smiles, her eyes brimming with tears. It was their boy, their little boy, her lips quivers. She catches an astonishing, miraculous smile on his little lips, she looks up at her husband, their dazed, sparkling eyes tangled.

"He has your smile," she says and he kisses her so with care, passionate and delicate. "I love you," he whispers.

He connects his forehead with Neva's dribbled ones, savouring the little while, "From the moment we met, you've made me the happiest man alive. Thank you, I love you so much Neva." He murmers away, with such a sweet smile.

"I love you too." Neva sighs in tranquility, peering down at her little baby.

He has his eyes closed, she smiles at the adorable baby, admiring him. "We love you, little Rhean."

She says, and gazes up at Rhett with such a devoted wonder in her eyes, he smiles, mirroring the parallel love she has for their loving child. They already have such, boundless love for their little boy; the bud of their love; their sunshine boy.