This Love and You

A cozy little room on the second floor of a bridge cottage.

Candlelight flickers in amber waves, painting the walls in gold. The gentle scent of wax and smoke is almost drowned by the lilies and roses arranged in a clear vase—losing and loving.

The roses' sweet, delicate scent begins to overpower the lilies' sharper fragrance.

Neva, fresh from her second bath of the day, sits on a vintage stool before a Victorian vanity mirror.

Her damp, sea–dark hair slips between her fingers as she combs it through again and again, hands moving automatically.

She stares into the glass, her fragile features barely registering. Her eyes are bare—an abyss of thought pulling her inward, blinding her to the golden room around her.

"Angel, come on. You need to sleep," Rhett says softly, patting the empty space beside him on the bed.

He lies on his side, propped on one elbow, the side of his head resting in his palm, his legs half–bared beneath the blanket. He waits, reaching out with his presence more than his hand—aching to pull her close.

His brows furrow when she doesn't respond.

She's still combing. Aimlessly. Her mind clearly far from here.

He sits up and gets off the bed.

She flinches out her trance when his hands—large, familiar—caress her narrow shoulders.

"Let's go sleep, Angel," he murmurs, kissing her cheek gently.

She blinks, sets the comb down, and turns to face him.

"You should leave," she says, voice barely there, eyes lowered, fingers fidgeting.

He stills.

"What?" His voice barely carries, like a breeze grazing dried grass.

"You should leave."

Her fingers fidget in her lap, twisting her nightdress. Her tone is soft.

Quiet.

She's already breaking inside.

"What are you talking about?" Rhett crouches to meet her gaze.

She swallows. "We shouldn't be together."

His stiffens. He stands.

Chest tightening. "I don't understand." His voice flattens.

"I said—we shouldn't be together," she repeats, finally lifting her gaze.

And when he sees them—clouded, flat, hollow—his heart drops.

"You're tired. Go to sleep," he says, turning his face away, hiding the pain twitching in his expression.

"I almost got you killed." Neva whispers.

He frowns and turns to her. "Neva, you didn't."

"I did," she stands, hand reaching for the bandaged wound on his arm—but freezes midair. Her fingers curl inward. "I bring ruin wherever I go—"

"No," he cuts in firmly, cupping her cheeks.

"You know how this ends, Rhett.

There's only tragedy ahead." She says, her voice is the broken shards of glass.

His frown deepens.

"Look at me, Neva," he says gently, eyes troubled.

"We'll be fine. I'll protect you."

"You don't get it, Rhett!" she snaps, shoving his hands away, stepping back.

She looks down at her shaking hands. "This—"

"I don't know what to do with all this blood," she confesses.

Tears rush down from her eyes—hot, relentless. "You don't understand—" her voice cracks, a sob rattling through her chest.

"I carry so much pain—every face, every scream, every death—" she gasps, the night curling around her like a serpent. The memory wraps tight like barbed wire around her chest.

The metallic scent of blood.

The acrid stench of gunfire.

Corpses sprawled like butchered animals.

And Noah— Noah—

Rhett softens.

Her eyes are wide. Haunted. Grim.

Rhett gently takes her hands in his.

And when she doesn't pull away, he draws her into his arms.

Neva leans into his warmth, fists clutching his shirt as if it's the only thing anchoring her.

Then she breaks—sobbing, raw, agonizing, into his chest.

"I'll wash it all away," he whispers, cradling her head, pressing a kiss to her crown. "This will pass. The night will pass."

"I–I saw you a–almost die, Rhett—" she hiccups through tears.

She can't risk his life again. Not because of her.

She had accepted the dangers of his work. Made peace with the idea of loving him even if it meant losing him someday.

But this—this death came for him because of her. And it's killing her inside.

"But I'm here. I'm alive. You have to believe in me," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head, tracing soothing circles on her back.

She shakes her head.

He's only human. There's only so much he can take.

"I–I won't survive losing you," she breathes, ragged against his shoulder.

"You will never lose me," he says, voice tight.

"No—" she chokes on a sob, frustration rising. Her words aren't reaching him.

"I killed them, Rhett." Her chin quivers. His shirt is soaked in her tears.

"No. You didn't." His voice is steady. He won't let her drown in guilt.

Then she pulls away, her scarlet eyes meeting his.

"Noah's dead! All of them are—"

"Noah's in a better place," he says softly.

"I'm cursed," she whispers, looking down, trembling all over.

"Neva, look at me." He cups her face again, searching for her—some trace of her—in those pale, lifeless eyes.

She shakes her head, whimpering.

"Don't touch me!" she suddenly screams, shoving him back.

His face falls as she stumbles back. The vintage stool clatters to the floor.

She wraps her arms tightly around herself. Nails dig into skin.

And then—she starts rubbing her arms.

Violently.

As if she could scrape the agony away.

"Neva—"

"I can't—" she gasps.

"I can't stay in this skin. I want it gone. All of it." She's sobbing now, her arms raw from friction.

He rushes to her, wrestles gently with her resistance, and grabs her wrists—just firm enough to stop her from hurting herself.

Slowly, her trembling fades. She crumples into his arms again.

"You are not cursed. You were never at fault for their monstrosity."

She sobs into his chest. "I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"I'm the reason Noah's dead."

"No—no you had nothing to do with their deaths." He strokes her hair gently.

She shakes her head again, unable to believe it.

"Do me a favor, Rhett," she whispers. "Before dawn—take the boat and go."

"Is it really that easy for you to give me up?" he asks, voice low and wounded.

"I can't leave you. You can't force me away."

"Why don't you get it?" Her voice rises again, palms pressing against his chest, pushing him away.

"You'll be safe without me."

He tucks strands of wet hair behind her ear. "Where would I even go without you?"

"Anywhere. The world is big." Her reddened eyes don't waver.

"Exactly. It's big enough that they won't find us. We'll leave tomorrow, somewhere far."

"You'll die if you stay near me!" she cries.

"Then if I go—what will you do?" he asks quietly.

Her silence speaks volumes.

"They want me. If they come again… I'll go with them."

"You're being ridiculous," he snaps, anger flickering in his eyes.

"It wouldn't have happened—if they had taken me," she murmurs to herself, unraveling.

"Don't ever say that again, Neva," he warns, stepping forward.

She backs away, eyes wide, until the back of her knees bump against the bed.

"Neva—" he tries to reach for her.

"No—!" she yells, dodging his touch.

"Spare me and leave!"

"I can't. I love you," he confesses, voice cracking.

"Then I will," she declares and turns to flee.

But he grabs her wrist, pulling her back. She stumbles and lands on the bed.

He firmly lays her down and hovers over her.

"Let me go!" she cries, pounding weakly at his chest.

He holds her hands down, pinning them beside her head—not to overpower, but steady her shaking world.

"Enough, Neva!" He snaps making her flinch.

Than softly he murmurs, "Stop trying to push me away," he buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her warm skin, her heart thudding fast against his own. His heart clenches. "It's killing me."

Her eyes shut tight. Her body trembles. But slowly—she stops resisting.

Her hands curl around his shirt, trembling.

She doesn't want to be touched.

But, she can't bear to be alone either.

He releases her wrists and slides his arms around her, drawing her close.

Her back arches into him.

"How do I live now?" she asks after a long pause, voice small, muffled against his shoulder.

"It might feel impossible now, but you'll heal." Rhett whispers.

"Don't believe in me—but in your God. The One you showed me."

Neva whimpers, clinging to him tighter.

Then they lie there. Tangled in silence.

.

.

.

"I'll die without you," he whispers an hour later, eyes closed tight. "I don't want to live with a broken heart."

Her fingers instinctively stroke his curls, her arm curled around him. Her eyes—blank—open, then close again. A tear slips from her lashes.

"You won't find peace with me," she breathes.

"There's you and I—above any tragedy or miracle. For me… peace is us."

His voice is soft. Almost a verse.

Her lips tremble. A sob barely escapes. More tears spill, quiet and steady.

She knows it now—he's all she needs.

And she, all he needs.

And Father… has already blessed this sacred bond.

Her breath slows. Not because she's calm. But because she's exhausted from surviving her own mind.

"Let's get married," she whispers.

Rhett draws back slightly, stunned.

Then he smiles—soft, whole—his lips brushing against hers.

"Let's get married," he repeats.

"I only need this love. This love and you."

A foolishly sweet smile blooms on his face.

Neva stares at him, utterly taken.

Is she have to keep living...

Let it be for Him.

If she have to keep living...

Let it it be with him.

She's found her home. And he's holding her.

Maybe peace isn't silence.

Maybe… peace is two shattered hearts learning to beat as one.