It's like a movie, a dream stirring to life, framed by golden glitters of chandeliers reflecting off the walls, strung by a love song that has her heart dancing with her fiancé's in the centre of this living memory.
Yet the gowns, the tailored suits, the sweet drunkenness of celebration melt into a kaleidoscopic haze around her. Save for the familiar dark eyes locked on hers as their bodies, guided by memory more than thought, sway to the beautiful music.
The voice drifts like a warm breeze over the sea, flowing and rising tenderly over the marmoreal-blue waves of the violin and pianoforte,
so achingly sweet and entrancing that her chest swells in utter breathlessness.
A gentle smile transforms his hauntingly handsome face, clean-shaven, his dark hair styled with an elegant, almost wet-sleek finish that sharpens his striking features.
He's always been so perfect. But if words went beyond perfect, it would be his name, the man spinning her beneath a breathing dream woven by the divine hands.
And she's falling deeper, unconditionally, right at this moment... and out of nowhere.
No. Not out of nowhere. Not at all.
Every miracle, every choice, every blessing, every act of love had been another flower woven into the wreath that,
from the very beginning, had been drawing their souls toward an eternal union.
The watercolor dream breathes from a sweetheart neckline into shimmering layers of tulle, awash in ever-deepening pastel pinks of a flowering dress,
gently blossoming around her as she drifts back into his arms, his hand at her waist, the certainty of him tethering her to him.
Oh, the soaring bridge of the song, a wonder of spring within winter's magic, melts her guarded corners into a blooming garden of forever with him.
A blooming garden of forever with him.
"I love you," he whispers, his eyes holding hers, a kaleidoscope of love, wonder,
and devotion stirring within their depths.
"I love you," she breathes as he leans in,
his kiss so impossibly gentle that it almost unravels her into a shivering mess.
Oh, Father... she's going to marry him. Marry him! He'll be all hers, her husband, the man she'll love for the rest of her life. And she'll be all his, his wife, his home, his forever.
Butterflies flutter in her belly as doubts fade away like fog as daylight breaks through.
For in quiet prayers and tranquil nights, the Lord has spoken,
aligning her heart with His will. And now she knows, this love is a grace bestowed upon them, for their obedience has pleased Him.
"Are you real?" A faint frown touches his brow. "If so.. how are you really mine?"
A smile curls at her lips as she wraps her arms around his neck. "I'm as real as the Lord made me," she murmurs. "And as yours as I could ever wholly, perfectly be."
He smiles faintly. "How can anyone lay eyes on you... and not believe in God?"
She lets out a gentle laugh, and then they find each other in another lingering kiss,
the warmth between them defying the quiet magic of a whole year's final moments.
An unexpected tug on her gown pulls her from the kiss. She lowers her gaze to the little figure standing before them, bright emerald eyes wide and fixed on them.
Heat rises to her cheeks in a tickling sensation as she recognizes the boy, Noah, drawn back to the woman's voice singing to another tune, and the many gazes that seem to be fixed upon them despite the others swaying to the music around them.
"Where did he come from?" asks Rhett, a flicker of annoyance colouring his tone.
"It's almost time for the fireworks." Neva takes Noah's small hand in hers, worried he might get lost. "And I am hungry."
His expression softens, and he nods.
She smiles, then asks Noah, "Where is your father, Noah? Are you lost?"
The boy looks around, but finds no one to fix his gaze upon.
Neva sighs and leads him through the shifting bodies, Rhett a step behind them.
Noah has already begun to grow into her heart. The sweet, kind boy had first met her this morning, then again during brunch with Rhett in the dining room, and now here.
"Do you also like fireworks, Princess?" Noah asks cheerfully, not a hint of worry in him despite his father's absence.
"I do." Neva nods.
Rhett pulls out a chair at the vacant table in the corner for her.
"Thank you," she says, taking her seat.
She barely settles in before Noah climbs into her lap.
"Didn't your mother come with you?" Rhett asks, pulling out the chair beside her before sitting down.
Noah looks up at him. "Mama is in heaven."
Rhett frowns, though something in his gaze softens.
Neva smiles faintly. "Noah, did your father come in here with you?"
Noah shakes his head. "Papa was talking to some people I don't know, so I came here by myself."
A sigh slips from her lips.
"It's good you found us." She adds, "But where were you last with your father?"
"In the corridor," Noah murmurs, gently tugging at the flower petals in the vase on the round glass table.
Now, what corridor would that be in this maze of a cruise?
"What's your cabin number?" asks Rhett.
"I don't know." Noah carefully plucks a pink rose from the vase before turning to Neva.
"Can I put this in your hair, Princess?" he asks, his eyes shining with hope.
Neva lets out a soft chuckle. "Of course."
Noah beams as he gently tucks the flower into the
braided crown of her half-up, half-down hair.
Neva smiles as Noah leans back, giggling and clapping his hands.
Rhett crosses his arms. "We need to let the staff know about him—"
"Noah!" a familiar voice calls, cutting him off.
All three turn toward the sound as Noah's father strides toward them, relief and frustration entwined across his face.
"Papa!" Noah immediately climbs off her lap.
As Noah collides with his father's legs, the man scoops him into his arms.
"Now why would you terrify your old man like that?"
Noah only giggles, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.
His father glances at them, caressing the boy's head before offering a small bow. "I apologise for the trouble.
He has a habit of disappearing the moment I take my eyes off him."
"He's no trouble," Neva says, then tilts her head to meet Noah's gaze. "And Noah, you shouldn't worry your father like this again."
"I won't," Noah replies obediently.
Noah's father merely shakes his head. "Thank you again."
"Goodbye, Princess!" Noah calls, beaming as he waves at her.
Neva smiles and waves back until the father and son disappear into the crowd, swallowed by the sea of people watching the dancers, drinks cradled in their hands.
"Children are... odd," Rhett says, a small frown of contemplation knitting his brows.
Neva chuckles. "They're not odd. But they are curious... and carefree."
He rests an elbow on the table, cradling his cheek, his gaze never leaving hers.
"I wonder what our own child will be like."
Warmth creeps up her cheeks as her mind conjures a living portrait of the future.
A child... hers... and his.
A miracle of a soul woven from their love.
He slowly straightens, and she catches the change in his demeanor at once, even though a smile tugs at his lips. "You said you were hungry?"
She blinks, brushing the thought aside. "I did."
"Come on, then." He rises, offering her his hand.
She takes it and rises, smoothing the tulle of her slightly rumpled dress.
Looping her arm through his, they weave through the narrow path between the shifting bodies,
the warmth of the heaters and the surrounding crowd keeping the winter chill at bay, despite her sleeveless dress.
As they step into the hall, leaving behind the strong scent of perfume and alcohol, he leads her in the opposite direction from the dining area, heading eastward.
"Rhett, where are we going?" she asks.
"I think it's better to dine in our own room," he says simply.
Alright... something is definitely off.
She can feel it in the way he's—
A gunshot cracks through the
fading music, and terrified screams erupt from the party hall they had just left.
It hadn't even occurred to her that he had quickened his pace beside her.
But now, as the tremor of countless footsteps, gunshots, and screams vibrates through her heels, they are already running, her heart beating wildly.
And one thought crystallizes in her mind with such piercing clarity it hurts.
The fear that Ishmael had found her.
Then she catches a faint voice through the chaos, but it's Rhett. "We're being hijacked."