Epilogue: The world of passions

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This time, Misty was drawing in the backyard of the Ketchums' farmhouse. Her red manicured fingers brushed the canvas in fast moves. She was working on shadowing so she now and then wiped off her fingers with a small towel that was on her lap. She had her hair French braided and was wearing a white summer dress.

Her gold ring shone when the sun hit the crystal on its center. Misty paused often to admire it. She'd giggle to herself and go back to shadowing the portrait she's drawn.

It was for tomorrow's graduation ceremony.

She's finally found it.

She's woken up at six in the morning to start drawing it (she's got the idea in the middle of the night and couldn't wait. Living as an artist was hard). She was planning on using other paints she's gotten done, but suddenly, it hit her. It could be it. It was what she's been looking for.

Misty put her hands down, admiring her artwork.

"I guess that's it, Ash."

She stared at his face and put her fingers on the drawing. She never knew she could love a man as much as she loves Ash. She could never imagine herself deciding to marry a guy this quickly. The university has given her an additional month to get her painting done since she was more busy putting a ring on it and trying to calm down her way too excited sisters, but let's face it; she's known Ash for one month, and now it's been two months since their engagement.

She doesn't regret it at all. She enjoys every single second of being Ash's fiancée.

Misty glanced down at the henna tattoo on the back of her pale hand. Leaf says it's a sign you're a newly engaged woman. It's a sign you're taken. She's gotten it only a few days after their engagement got official, and it was Ash's grandmother whom tattooed her hand. Flowers, swirls. Misty loved it. 

"Misty?"

The redhead instantly turned the canvas around. She got off the stool. "Yes?"

"I thought you were inside the house." Ash stood beside her. He glanced at the white back of the canvas. "Were you drawing?"

"No." Misty shook her head. "Just checking the paint I'm going to present tomorrow."

"Okay..." Ash didn't look convinced. He rubbed his face and sighed. "I was sleeping so peacefully until mom butted in and kicked me out of the bed."

"It's past lunch time, Ash." Misty smiled.

"Who spent the whole night loading the wine in the truck until dawn? Her?" Ash sighed.

"You'll mix up day and night this way. It's bad for your health."

He shrugged. Ash pulled close to Misty and ran his hand through her hair. "I kissed you on the lips before I sleep. Did you feel it?"

She laughed. "I'm your fiancée, Ash. You don't need to wait until I sleep so you can kiss me."

"Eeh! I know! You just looked really pretty and I couldn't stop myself — plus, you smelled like candy and strawberries."

Misty has learned Ash and company didn't have a culture of using flowery shower gels, exfoliating creams, Aloe Vera facemasks and lip balms. Ash always told her she smelled like candy.

"You're so silly." Misty punched his arm playfully.

"I know, I know. Now, tell me." Ash put his hand on the back of the canvas. "What's on it?"

"Huh?"

"I know you were drawing something. Your fingers are telling me."

Misty looked down. The tip of her fingers still had the pencil traces. She tried to wipe it off with the towel.

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