The Art of Knowing [Completed]

40. • to cherish •

[to all willing to cherish everything that has been bestowed upon them; everyone who promises to protect it completely.]

                                     •  •  •  •
"What do you think?"

Cassandra's head tilted subtly as she inspected the sight before her, subconsciously rubbing her protruding belly in deep thought. She stepped back a bit more and took in the entire scale of the wall as Jason remained inches away from the frame.

"I don't know yet. Do you think it looks good there?" she asked with furrowed brows.

The young man shrugged. "I think it does. It kind of goes with the whole nature theme you have going on." He gestured over to the artist's acrylic piece, the medium canvas filled with green tones plastered on it— the evident closeup of palm trees known to be the focus of it. "I just don't want you to put all of your work entirely on this wall and let the other ones stay empty."

"They won't be." Cassandra allowed a smile to flicker onto her lips and quietly rested her hand on top of her belly as Jason stayed silent for the awaited explanation.

"Are you bringing in some more?"

"No..." she trailed off. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to have some of your work displayed."

Jason scoffed at the idea almost immediately. And though it was a sweet gesture, the last thing the young man wanted to think of was having his photographs publicly displayed for anyone to see the minute they stepped into Cassandra's small art shop. It wasn't too portentous— she'd made sure of that —but didn't want it to be easily drowned out by all the other business surrounding it. In fact, the thought of opening a small gallery had never been a realistic possibility for her, until— after a whole year —the couple found themselves in good shape financially through Ryan's work for his father, opting the young man to propose the chances of making his wife's dream a reality. It wasn't ready to open just yet, in fact, it wouldn't until the artist was comfortable with the first couple of months of motherhood. And as she continued to stop by to the new space, decorating as well as picturing just how everything could go, the nerves of becoming a legitimate mother at any moment was fairly more dominant within her mind than anything else.

"We're not putting my work on your walls, Cass. Don't start with that."

A warning glare was reciprocated from the artist herself, letting one of her hands rest on her hip with visible annoyance. Truth be told, the possibility of the modest photographer refusing to showcase his own work was definitely something Cassandra expected. But just like his decline was anything but a surprise, so was the artist's inability to back off from the offer. Jason continued to nail the artwork to the wall without another word while his friend remained just as quiet, but for different reasons. It wasn't long before she took one of her own paintings from his hands with the intention to wait for his gaze to return to hers.

"Jason," her voice loomed, holding a strong yet gentle tone. A quick stern look draped over the young man's face and it only prompted the artist to mope instinctively. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Take this as my mediocre way to say thank you somehow."

"You have nothing to thank me for, Cass."

The artist gaped at his audacity. "I have everything to thank you for. Stop that." Jason's reaction, or lack of thereof, was inconceivable for Cassandra to understand. After all, she'd always considered him as the ultimate reason for anything and everything she'd had the privilege to experience. "Don't you think you're literally the only way all of this could've happened?"