The Art of Knowing [Completed]

34. • to love •

[to all who have overcome obstacles, not letting anything dim your internal light.]

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Cassandra felt as if she were suffocating in the small hotel room, nearly horrified as Ryan's stare seemed to bore into her skull. She swallowed the lump lodged in her throat as he returned his gaze to the sketchbook in his hands and flipped through, what the artist considered to be, her most private creations. The only sound infiltrating into the heavy silence was the constant turning of pages that was accompanied by a look of bewilderment etched upon the young man's face. 

"Ryan... It would really help if you said something," Cassandra mumbled.

Nevertheless, the socialite frowned as his eyes scanned the pages filled with strangers— although according to the artist herself, she couldn't consider them to be total strangers at all. He felt as if he'd been hit about the head and ambushed by an incredible possibility. Ryan's eyes lifted towards Cassandra, mouth gaped whilst he found himself at a loss for words. After an emotional reunion, the couple had decided to sit down and share things they wouldn't have shared otherwise. For Ryan, it involved the entire Jess and baby fiasco, but after explaining it through, the fear of being truthful about it seemed to dissipate. Truthfully, he couldn't understand why he'd waited at all to tell Cassandra a piece of information she had the right to know months beforehand. Better late than never, he concluded. As his side of the story came to light, it was decided within himself that the worst was over until Cassandra held up to her side of the bargain. It was then that he realized how improbable it was for her to know something so deeply personal, which terrified him beyond belief, truly. He learned he should've been more careful with what he wished for as he sat there, merely inches away from Cassandra as she explained the most bizarre thing he'd ever heard of.

"You're telling me you know these people..." he trailed off.

"I dream about them," Cassandra corrected solemnly. "They just pop into my head and before I know it, I'm already drawing them. It doesn't take long before I met them later on."

The artist bit her lip self consciously at the look etched upon Ryan's face. She couldn't tell if it was absolute terror or skepticism, maybe even both. He lowered his head cautiously, dodging her stare on purpose as he skimmed through more pages. It was only when he halted at the page of himself that Cassandra felt a wave of heat drape over her like a tsunami. She'd completely forgotten about that part of the explanation— much to her own horror.

"But... Th- This specific one, you drew this after, right? Like after we met on that flight?"

His tone held some hope into somehow explaining it away, and it took all of Cassandra's being to not agree with a conclusion that would've been much easier to explain— a lot easier to live with, in fact. Regardless, she shook her head with a defeated sigh. She concluded this would've been the time any other man would've walked out, claiming she was absolutely insane. And in spite of her dreams that contradicted that heartbreaking scenario, the artist secretly expected Ryan to come to his senses and do just that.

"That was 3 weeks beforehand, Ryan." Cassandra ran her hand across her own cheek in distress. She didn't need anyone to tell her how impossible everything sounded. "I actually dreamt about you getting that ring... You know, for Jess. I didn't know your name so ring man seemed like a nice fit."