Azlin couldn't keep herself still. She'd already checked everything twice, thrice, no--eleven times  to be exact, just to make sure that everything is perfectly set and ready. She'd even made sure that there were enough flyers for at least 100 people, and that she had exactly fifty calling cards readily prepared on her table, and twenty more in her pocket just in case. Now, there's really nothing else left for her to do but wait for the clock to hit five o'clock. 

Azlin locks herself inside the restroom to try and calm herself down. She looks at her phone and goes to her last conversation with Ben. She badly wants to call him at these times--where her nerves are wrecking her and causing her to overthink--but unfortunately the last time he was online was ten hours ago and he may be busy at this hour. So instead, Azlin just settles on reading his last message.

Goodluck, Azzie. I know you will be amazing.

She reads it over and over again, to a point that she could already hear Ben saying it himself, and like medicine slowly taking its effect, she starts to calm down. She secures her phone back to her pocket and straightens herself, looks at herself in the mirror and sees a woman so pristine and professionally dressed, looking confident and headstrong.

You will be amazing.

Azlin finally finds confidence in herself and trusts in Ben's words. She's here not because of a stroke of luck, but because she worked hard for it. This is her chance to show people who she is and what she does, and that she believes in its beauty. With this thought, Azlin smiles at herself, deciding that she's ready.

As she steps out of the restroom, she looks around and immediately spots Cher on one side of the gallery, occupied with instructing her photographer companion. Cher had been a great help in publicizing the art exhibit, helping them with press releases and reaching out thru social media platforms, and she's even kind enough to provide media coverage on the entire duration of the exhibit.

Azlin approaches her and pulls her into a hug. "Thank you, Cher. I really appreciate your help."

"It's the least I can do," Cher smiles. "I've always thought your art is amazing and somehow, someday, you will be recognized for it. I'm glad you're finally a few steps closer to your dreams."

"If you need anything, just tell me alright? We also have unlimited wine. Feel free to help yourself." Cher laughs at the inside joke. Azlin proceeds to scan the other arts in display (there are three other contemporary artists alongside her tonight, who has five of their own art displayed as well) all of which had the same theme as hers: play of texture, colors, and 3-dimensional space, but they were of different mediums. One is texture painting, one is abstract sculpting, one is paper art, and then there's Azlin's relief art.

She stops at the section where her works are displayed, her heart filling with joy and pride as she looks at them, like a mother watching her own children flourish. And her masterpiece; her piece that she'd worked on day and night for the past month, was perfect. It was everything she had imagined, and even more. It is indeed her best work so far in her entire life, and now, the only thing left is to see if other people would see it the same way that she does.

The clock finally hits five and one by one the attendees arrive, grabbing their own drinks as they start walking around the expanse of the exhibit, slowly filling the room with ambient noise. In just a matter of seconds someone finally walks towards her side of the room--a mother hand in hand with her little girl. Azlin smiles and lets them take their time and study her sculptures, but much to her amazement, a few moments later the little girl's eyes gravitates towards her masterpiece. As if in a trance, she breaks away from her mother and slowly approaches it.

She sees the intricate carvings of foliage of flowers lining the edges of the six feet tall frames, then the distinct linings of the banisters of a veranda in the background. The tones are a mix of brown, magenta, deep purples and black, completing the setup of a dimly lit garden. At the center of it all is a man partly hidden in the darkness, except for his eyes--his green eyes that seem to be shining, captivating whomever would look--and his right hand floating well above twelve inches from the surface, reaching out for a handshake to the person in front of him.

It's meant to be both mysterious and captivating, with a mysterious man standing in the shadows of a dreamy garden, his green eyes intriguing and full of deep thoughts, and with his outstretched hands it almost seems like you'd only know and understand those thoughts at the touch of his hand. It captures exactly how Azlin met Ben that one night; how he'd established a connection with her in such a brief moment, but a moment that seemed to last with her for longer. 

And at this moment, Azlin realizes she had succeeded in conveying that exact message as she watches this little girl: how she slowly reaches up and touches the man's outstretched hand, looking up at his eyes as if in that moment, they have just established a mysterious connection.

"Maggie, don't!" The mother pulls her hand back.

"No, it's alright." Azlin steps forward and smiles at them. "It really is meant for a handshake."

"Really?" the mother briefly studies the sculpture before looking back to her. "They usually don't allow people touching."

"Well, it is part of the experience." she gives a meaningful smile towards Maggie.

"What's his name?" she suddenly asks.

"Well, what did he tell you?" the little girl thinks for a moment, before turning back to the sculpture to touch his hand again, as if that's their means of communication. Both Azlin and the mother smiles at the wholesome sight of a child enjoying art, and Azlin excuses herself to attend to the other attendees now studying her other sculptures.

Azlin never had to talk so much about her art before--she just usually lets the art speak for itself--but this night, she realizes that she enjoys it. She loves seeing people genuinely interested, actively asking and listening about what she does and how she does it, and in exchange knowing how they feel about it. She enjoys seeing them appreciate her work, especially how so many people had reached out to shake hands with the mysterious man.

"Hello," a man in a suit steps beside Azlin, his crisp and sharp appearance immediately indicating he's a man of importance. "Are you perhaps the artist?"

"Yes, yes I am. My name is Azlin." She smiles and reaches out for a handshake.

"Ingor Patizor," he nods. "Your sculptures are magnificent, Miss Azlin. Especially the mysterious man. Different and captivating."

Azlin glances as the said art, making her smile wider. "Thank you, I'm glad you like my work, sir."

"Could I know where else your works are available?" Azlin's mind races as she realizes that he's asking no nonsense questions; he's definitely here for a purpose other than just spectate.

"I'm a freelance artist. I make and sell art from my own home, marketed thru social media and personal connections which, I'm afraid, is not yet very broad." she answers honestly. "I did make a few decorative arts for local cafes, libraries, and other establishments in my hometown, but this is the first time I formally showcased my work in an exhibit."

"Really?" Ingor's eyebrows raise in subtle surprise. "Well, have you ever been interested in accepting projects? Like maybe, for set creation or filmography purposes?"

Azlin's heart suddenly races. Does this man perhaps work for the film industry?

"Oh yes, definitely. I'm open to opportunities."

"Wonderful. We'd love to see a talent like yours working with us. I can already see the beautiful pieces you can create." He turns towards the table beside Azlin and grabs one of her calling cards from the readily prepared stack.

"It was nice meeting you, Miss Azlin." He waves her calling card before pocketing it, smiling and nodding to her once again. "Have a nice evening."

He turns around and continues exploring the rest of the gallery, leaving her still in a bit of shock. Such a mysterious man.

Azlin's phone suddenly rings, making her move to a more private corner of the gallery to take the call. Her heart jumps as she sees that it's Ben, immediately making her smile brightly.

"Ben!"

"Azzie!" He greets back cheerfully. "Wow, you seem stoked. How's the exhibit going?"

"It's going amazing. Three of my pieces are already sold, Ben. They love my work!"

"See? I told you!" he laughs. "Although I'm a bit jealous other people got to see your masterpiece before I did."

"Sorry," Azlin grimaces. The main purpose why she refused to let him see it is because she knew he will immediately know that the man is supposed to be him. And knowing Ben's personality, he'd surely take pleasure in teasing her about it.

"It's alright. I'll see it soon anyway. Though, I'm still not too late, am I?"

"No, we still have fifteen minutes before..." Azlin pauses at the oddity of his question. "Hold on. What do you mean too late?"

"To your exhibit."

Ben answers, and Azlin recognizes that tone. That cheeky tone that lets her know he's up to something. And then, as it dawns on her, her breath hitches in her throat as if her heart had stopped beating. She couldn't believe it.

"Turn around, Azzie."

She did. And her intuition proves right.

She sees Ben Hardy walk into the gallery, hand still holding his phone to his ear, a big cheeky smile on his face as he walks straight towards her, not minding the photographers and fans trailing after him. He stops right in front of Azlin, whose face is still stricken in shock in disbelief, unable to believe her very own eyes. 

"You... you're..."

"Supposed to be in London, I know." His expression softens, his green eyes staring deep into hers. "Well, I wanted to surprise you."

Azlin couldn't say anything back, still struggling to form words in her own mouth. Ben just chuckles and finally pulls her into a hug, not giving a care in the world at the cameras flashing before them.

"I missed you, Azlin."

***

[A/N]: In case you need better visual on what Azlin's masterpiece looks like, imagine a combination of these three elements--

Except the person emerging from the surface is Ben Hardy, reaching out to shake your hand. Heck, who wouldn't be tempted to touch that?