Turbach valley is girded by snow-draped mountains, and among its scattered hamlets, a cozy chalet welcomed them in autumn, before winter brought a familiar reverie of dwelling amid the frozen scenery.
Yet, she left a part of her heart in Ziriri, a little space of dream amidst this world of nightmares which cradled her family in its cottage by the woods, its garden where Ella now sleeps underneath the earth, its people's hearts still surrounded by the meadows.
Her throat tightens with sadness as memories drift by... the first time she and her then-fiancé breathed in the scent of wildflowers thriving amidst winter, before, in the blink of an eye, the thieves stole the life of forever she had envisioned, and they had to sever themselves from Ziriri like farmers cutting a fruitful harvest of wheat from the fields before they fully ripened because of a forthcoming bad weather.
A whimper escapes her son, drawing her from the ocean of melancholy into which she was drowning.
"Oh, shh... baby," she coos, gently rocking him in her arms.
"He's awake already?" her husband says, looking up from his laptop.
"He'd barely fallen asleep," she says, moving toward the bed as he shuts the laptop and places it aside.
Carefully climbing onto the bed, she hands baby Rhean to his father before placing the pillows against the headboard and leaning back against them.
She then reaches for the sketchbook beside him as their son begins fussing against him.
"There, there, little man," he says, rubbing their son's back as he starts crying.
"Why is he frustrated all of a sudden?"
"Who knows?" She pulls the duvet up to cover herself and her husband against this cold, late-December night while the muffled howl of wind batters against the windows.
"Maybe he's hungry?" He straightens as their baby's cries grow louder, ringing in her ears.
A deep sigh escapes her. "I just fed him," she says, taking the baby from him again.
"Hush... it's alright, Rhean." She holds him close to her heart, pressing a kiss to his beanie covered head.
"Maybe a nappy change, then?"
He watches as she climbs off the bed with their inconsolable baby.
"No." Worry flares within her as she places the back of her hand over his warm neck to check for fever.
But he seems perfectly normal. "I know how he cries when he needs a nappy change."
A frown creases his brow as he climbs off the bed as well, while she rocks him gently in her arms.
She hums a lullaby she often sings to him,
his little form slowly relaxing against hers until his cries soothe into soft, steady breaths.
She glances at her husband, sitting with his arms crossed on the edge of the bed.
"Is he asleep?" she mouths silently.
He nods, a small smile lingering on his lips.
A sigh of relief escapes her as she gently rests her cheek against his little head, swaying slowly and making sure dreamland has a good hold of him.
She carefully lowers him into his crib, attached to her side of the bed and covers him with his tiny blanket.
"Come on, get in." He pats the space beside him.
She obeys, yet instead of lying down next to him, she climbs atop him.
A chuckle escapes him, making her smile as she leans in to kiss him.
"The wind is loud enough." He tucks the loose strands of hair behind her ear,
his warm breath feathering against her lips as he murmurs playfully, "We can be a little wilder."
She chuckles before kissing him softly again.
His hands grab her waist, and with practiced ease, he rolls them over, leaving her beneath him.
Her arms slip around his neck as his lips find hers again,
but as his scheming hand slides up her thigh, she pushes him away by the chest.
"Not tonight," she whispers.
"Why?" he asks. "What's wrong?"
She caresses his cheek. "I'm a bit tired."
He places a hand over hers, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm before lying down beside her.
She pulls the duvet over them both as he nestles against her,
burying his face against her chest.
"That's a bit cruel of you after getting me all fired up." His voice comes muffled against her.
A soft laugh slips from her as she presses a kiss to his hair. "I'm sorry, my dear hubby."
He glances up at her, a smile breaking across his lips that has her thaw like frost beneath warm sunlight.
Her fingers tenderly trace down his temple,
along his cheekbone, and to his chin before she boops the tip of his tall, beautiful nose.
His arms tighten around her as he buries his face against her chest again,
while she reaches for the sketchbook.
"Are you finished with the 3D designs?"
She flips through the pages, filled with designs from various stages of the project she's helped him with.
"Almost," he replies, his voice low and sleepy.
He's been working on this project for almost six months now, even before he finished the project with the Skoda.
Previously, when he still had the workshop, he had planned to restore a broken car with a completely new framework that he designed.
But now that he no longer has the workshop, he wants to sell the design to a car manufacturer instead of building it himself.
He says he won't be opening a workshop anytime soon and has spent the past two
months helping her with the baby and caring for their home since they moved here.
"What would you name it?"
"You tell me."
"I'm not very good with names." She pauses. "So, there's nothing like this in the world as of yet?"
"Not yet. Your creativity is unmatched."
"I barely did anything."
She only helped him with the rough sketches of the design he'd had in mind, then polished them with her own sketches and drawings as he gave her free rein over how beautiful she wanted it to be.
She brought out the elegance of the sports car,
while he focused on the comfort and safety of the driver and passengers.
She was also the one who chose the maroon-cherry paint for their Skoda.
"Don't you miss working in the workshop?"
"We have our hands full with our baby." He glances up to meet her eyes. "And if I could,
I wouldn't leave your side for the world."
She chuckles. "You and your way with words."
A sheepish smile curls at his lips.
"There's no report of Ziriri being harmed, right?" she asks, brushing strands of his hair from his forehead.
"No," he says. "Do you still miss it?"
"I do."
Her thoughts drift back to the morning before they left Ziriri,
when they visited Mrs. Barlowe's home.
Tears had filled her eyes after they gave her two envelopes containing a humble amount of money for her family and Anna's to help them through this difficult time.
Mrs. Barlowe had refused at first, but she persuaded her to accept them.
For the other victims harmed by the Nam-Di, they had donated some amount to the church as well.
"We could go back," Rhett says. "Sometime, when Rhean's older. Even if it's just for a visit."
"Okay," Neva replies, when a harmless shenanigan crosses her mind. "Would you rather sleep, or make love to me now?"
He raises a brow. "I thought you were tired?"
"Who knows?" She kisses his forehead. "Maybe you, my husband, can chase it all away?"
He smiles before rising and pulling her along with him.
Warmth blooms within her despite the winter gale howling outside like wolves, ss the familiar roughness of his hands slips beneath her flared, knitted sweater, pulling her closer.
Her eyes meet his,
an unearthly gentleness stirring within them beneath the room's dim amber glow.
"I could lose a million hours of sleep if it means being one flesh with you," he says, earning a tug at his sweatshirt before she helps him pull it over his head.
Just as he tosses it aside, she immediately cups his face and kisses him.