Chapter 119 Exhibition Day 2

Chapter 119 Exhibition Day 2
Jasmine’s POV

Several people stop in front of my painting to stare and drop comments from time to time, so much that it is already exhausting.

Not because I wasn’t ready for this, I have attended similar events, so it’s no surprise, but the fact that I still somehow feel it’s the wrong painting getting this much attention.

“A garden.” A voice sounds above my bowed head, silky, soft, and rich, enough that I am instantly forced to look up.

My body freezes.

My mind goes blank, and an instant cold washes over me.

I know this face.

Every aspiring artist worldwide should have memorized every line and detail of this face.

“I have exhausted my eyes on just how many gardens I have seen today.” He adds with a small smile, his gaze not leaving my painting.

Oddly, his words don’t surprise me.

But I am too tired of the self-sabotage. And like Xavier said, this is my story, and I have come to accept that. Or have I?

“Something is different about this.”

I quirk my brow, wondering if I should answer or offer an explanation.

But this is Mr. Adrian Laurent. The owner of the Laurent Global Arts Foundation.

There is absolutely no way he wouldn’t understand this, or better, have a very unique perception of my painting that I am dying to hear.

I don’t know which is more surprising, the fact that he recognized our school and came physically, or that he is sparing more than a few seconds on my painting.

I clear my throat to at least say something. I cannot afford to come across as rude.

“Hel…”

“Last I checked, gardens always leave a peaceful feeling.” He chuckles, resting his chin on his finger. “Picnics, weddings, hangouts. All happy memories.”

He stops to finally look at me for a split second, before returning his gaze to my painting.

“There aren’t any withering flowers, or gloomy clouds in this garden.” He pinches his nose, adjusting his glasses to take a better look. “Looks pretty normal.”

My heart drops to my stomach.

Normal?

Goosebumps immediately crawl onto my skin, my clammy hands helplessly digging into my gown for warmth.

What was I thinking, presenting a painting I spent only a few hours on?

What fairytale did I delude myself with, thinking a rushed piece like this would fulfill my dream?

Sweat trickles down my back as I look at the canvas that has been beside me for a couple of hours now.

I have never taken the time to truly look at it.

But I do now.

And something steadies inside me.

This isn’t normal.

I’m not even convincing myself, I just know.

It might have taken less effort and time compared to every other painting here, but this isn’t a regular garden. That’s why he doesn’t feel the peace and solace that usually comes with one. That unsettled feeling is the point.

The fact that he is still standing here somehow proves it, and from my peripheral vision, I can see most, if not everyone, glancing in our direction.

Of course they are.

It is Mr. Adrian Laurent.

As if finally processing the image before him, he starts, “Perfect garden. Dark edges.”

My body goes rigid when he trails a finger along the surface. My painting isn’t fully dried yet, but strangely, I don’t panic.

He wipes off the little paint stain on a handkerchief and smiles, before fully facing me.

“What is this?” He asks calmly, not judging one bit.

It’s a simple question, yet very ambiguous. What exactly is he asking?

Many options and responses run through my mind, but I just open my mouth and let the words out.

“A garden that somehow bloomed in darkness.”

He hums in approval, and with that, I know I didn’t get it wrong.

“The darkness remains at the edge and doesn’t affect it?”

“Yes.” I breathe out. “But the light doesn’t deny the darkness either.”

“You think they can actually exist together without the garden being consumed by it?” I pause to process his question.

If I’m being honest, my past has found its way, fuck it, many ways actually, to disturb my present. But has it consumed me fully?

No.

“You know how easy it is for the light to be swallowed by darkness without a trace.” He states, his smile widening until I can see his teeth.

“It can.” I say matter-of-factly. “But it didn’t.”

A beat passes.

“And it won’t.”

A long silence settles between us, and for a moment, it is just me and the owner of the top art foundation in the world.

Every other person fades into the background.

He breaks the eye contact to look at my painting again, before nodding slowly.

I don’t even know what to feel.

Some part of me wants to get ahead of myself and dare to hope, while the other part reminds me of just how many disappointments I’ve faced lately.

So hoping would mean preparing to be hurt.

“What story are you telling?” He asks, more to himself than to me. “What balance did you find that you are so sure it wouldn’t mix up?”

I don’t answer.

But me being here, standing and presenting a painting despite everything, is the evidence.

Not giving up after feeling defeated is another.

The balance isn’t a happy ever after. It’s hope. It’s daring to push despite every pullback.

Like he read my mind, he nods again and smiles, before closing the little gap between us and pulling me into a hug.

The world goes quiet, and for a second, I forget to breathe.

Mr. Laurent is hugging me with all eyes on us. If I was denying having their attention before, this definitely confirms it.

His presence fills the space around me, and before I can fully process it, he withdraws. Too fast.

“I am glad you have come this far.” He says, proudly, like he knows something I don’t. “And for not giving up on finding your garden.”

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I believe in you, and I know the darkness would never consume the light you’ve fought so hard to find.”

My eyes burn with tears, but I sniff them back immediately.

“This story deserves recognition, because I am sure there are people out there still trying to find their light.” He turns to leave, but stops.

“I'd like my team to speak with you."

Every nerve in my body wakes up.

What just happened!