Cassandra was quiet all the way home and she didn't utter a word to him. By the time they reached home, she hastily climbed out of the car and stormed toward the house.

She must have realized she didn't have a key. He had it and so she waited as he made his way towards the door.

"You're acting like a child, Cassy," he said gently as he worked with the keys. She ignored him, looking up at the sky like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. She transferred her weight from one foot to the other, anxiously showing him how giddy she was to get away from him and enter the house and lock herself in her room.

Which she immediately did the moment the door opened.

"Cassy, come on, we have to talk about this," he called out behind her.

He sighed. "Stupid," he cursed himself.

*****

She planned to keep up with the silent war she had started the very next day. At first, Philip tried knocking on her door but to no avail until he got tired of trying or whatever that he finally stopped and was now probably busy inside his office.

Good thing though that she had some crackers inside her room and she only went out to get some water or if she really needed to take some air. But she made it sure that Philip did not see even a tiny shade of her shadow.

It was three days after that Cassandra felt like she couldn't eat another crumb of crackers. She had been too proud to even go to the kitchen and make something.

But right now, as the moon shone outside, she was just too hungry to even care. So, carefully, surely, and quietly, she opened her door and looked across the hall to see if Philip's room was still lit. It was not. He must be sleeping.

The heck! He could still sleep soundly knowing his wife was waging a silent war against him? Brushing that thought aside, she tiptoed her way down the stairs in bare foot and into the kitchen.

She opened the fridge and found some raw parts of a chicken.

"Chicken it is," she murmured under her breath. Then, she set to work. She felt like a burglar breaking into someone else's house and now she felt how they felt. Desperation and hunger must have driven people to do such ridiculous stuff, she thought.

She was absently looking at the frying chicken in the pan when her husband's voice rang out.

"That chicken's going to burn any moment," he said, his voice full of amusement.

Cassandra was so proud of herself when she did not scream in shock. Maybe, unconsciously, she knew he was there all along. Turning her head at him, she stared before looking back on her current task. And yes, he was right. Her chicken was starting to burn.

Philip was standing behind the kitchen counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area, his arms resting on the dark counter. "Still not talking to me? Come on, Cassy, this is crazy." She couldn't remember when he started calling her Cassy but it was only then that she realized it was the closest thing to an actual endearment. Babe was just out of the question.

I'm mute, I'm mute, she reminded herself. If only she could speak to him, she had loads of snide remarks to throw at his face and it would be highly gratifying to see his reaction. But no, she was mute.

"There's pasta in the fridge," he said, changing the subject.

Amazing how she missed his voice. But no, she was not talking to him at all.

"I did not make it if that's what's keeping you from eating it," he offered, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "Chanty made it and mom took it here earlier today. She looked for you but I said you were out."

With that, she whirled around and went to the fridge. She saw the pasta and sauce in two separate containers. She took them and threw them inside the microwave. Ah, the power of technology.

There was laughter in Philips' voice as he said, "I thought you'll like it." When she did not answer, he said, "Come on, Cassy, what are you angry about? I was just talking to Beth about something. Hey, come on," he urged, following her with his head as she took a fork and took out the chicken from the pan. The only sound aside from his voice was the beep of the microwave and she walked toward it, took out the containers, placed them in a tray together with the chicken and started to walk out the kitchen. "Cassy, come on..." he tried again.

She was mute, she was mute...

She ignored him completely and was just outside the kitchen when she remembered she forgot to take something to drink. She went back, her husband just a meter away looking at her, went to the fridge, took out a bottle of orange juice and water and rushed out once again, back to the stairs and into her room.

He can rot in hell, she said bitterly as she attacked her food alone.

*****

The next day, she received a call from Toni that she had to come to the gallery to see the final touches for her exhibit the next day. She asked her manager to pick her up and she rushed out of the house before Philip knew she was gone.

She busied herself by talking to the curator of the gallery and the men who were working on her pieces. She changed, well, almost everything they had already been doing. Toni pointed out laughingly that it was the main reason why she called because she knew she would change things.

The exhibit was themed LIFE and she wanted everything to look just like it. She wanted to make the impression that everything came out naturally and so she placed some pieces here and there in no order at all—under a chair, on a doorknob, on tables and of course, on the walls. But there was one painting that she carefully thought of and it was the one she had been painting in secret in her room.

At first, she was hesitant to even include it in the exhibit but Toni said it was amazing and that she should put it on sale. She eventually ended up hanging it at the end of the hall, far from everything else, but the very center of it all.

By the time she got back home, she was feeling exhausted.

"Where have you been?" Philip demanded, his voice painted with irritation and concern.

Yeah, like that he cares, she thought.

He was standing just at the bottom of the stairs. She walked past him without a word.

"Cass," he grabbed her by the arm and looked into her eyes. Oh, so now she was back to just being Cass.

"I'm tired, I need to rest," she said, her voice flat, and she shook his hand away.

He let her go and she climbed up the stairs.

"Where have you been?" he asked, following her steps.

"Not that you care," he muttered.

"Of course I care."

She didn't really intend to say that out loud.

"Cass, you're being a child here. You've been dragging this thing too long. We have to talk about it." He said hastily before she reached her door. "Tomorrow's your exhibit, right?"

She did not reply.

"I'll be there," he said.

"Don't expect you to," the bitterness in her voice was too distinct. She opened her door and locked herself in.

She couldn't break down now. Tomorrow was her big day and she had to be full of energy.

*****

She woke up with a heavy feeling and she knew why. But she brushed those negative things aside, knowing they wouldn't help at all. When she climbed down the stairs to meet Toni who was already waiting for her outside in her car, she did not see Philip. She thought she heard him in his office, probably working.

Yeah, he's coming alright, she said in her mind.

By the time they reached the exhibit, she was back to her own world. She became too busy to even think about her husband. People would be coming in soon and she had to make sure that everything was set. Toni was busy preparing the wines and the finger food Cassandra didn't bother to know what.

It was nearly five when Chanty and Angelica came. They were the first ones to arrive.

"Oh my God, this is amazing," Chanty said with awe, looking around the gallery. "I'm amazed, Cass!"

"Thank you," she answered with a smile.

"I have to say, Cassandra, that you have a great talent," Angelica said without a smile.

"Well, thank you Angelica," she chuckled. She knew the lady was just merely being herself.

She toured them around.

"What's that?" Chanty asked, pointing at the end of the hall upstairs.

Cassandra almost shut her eyes closed. She shouldn't have put up that painting.

"Oh my God, Cass! Is it Willie?" Chanty cried out when they reached the painting.

"Yes," she answered. She had chosen to paint the picture she took of Willie and Philip sleeping with the baby sprawled on his chest. It was that time they babysat for Chanty.

"And Philip," Angelica said, recognizing her husband.

"This is mine," Chanty said. "I'm buying this!"

"Philip looks even hotter in that painting," Angelica whistled. "Didn't know he can be hot even when sleeping."

"Hey, stop staring at my husband. Your mouth's watering," Cassandra playfully pushed her.

"Oh, I need a drink," Angelica fanned her face with her hand in exaggeration. "Where's the drink?" Angelica asked.

Cassandra chuckled. "It's with Toni. Toni!" she called out and said, "can you assist these ladies with some drinks?" She saw some people coming in and she wanted to greet them.

"Cass, this is mine! Remember!" Chanty called out behind her.

"Yes, yes, but you have to pay for it. And I sell it per square inch!"

"Deal!"

Moments later, the exhibit was full. There were her constant buyers, and there were those who were first timers. From time to time, her head would snap around to check if there was any sign of Philip. It was when the clock struck seven that she was sure he was not coming.

"Where's Philip?" Hope asked her. Yes, his family was present along with hers.

"I don't know, maybe he's stuck in traffic."

"That boy ought to know how to prioritize," William said, shaking his head.

"Cass! Cass!" Chanty was running toward her, her face full of alarm.

"What?"

"Someone's stealing my painting!"

"What?"

"Someone's stealing it!"

"Okay, calm down, Chanty, what are you talking about?"

"It's that painting," Angelica said dryly behind her friend. "Some guy is looking at it and talked about buying it. Lucky she didn't claw on his face. Chanty, you're being overly dramatic."

"But that painting's mine! Cass, you have to tell them that painting's mine!"

"Okay, okay" she said, excusing herself from her family.

"Honey, don't be such a child," Mary called out after her daughter. Chanty was in panic to listen to her mother as she literally dragged Cassandra toward the painting, leaving Angelica and their family behind.

Well, she and Angelica were right. There were two men standing in front of the painting, deep in discussion. And she knew one of them.

"Mr. Staton," she said behind the old man.

The bearded black American man turned around at her voice and beamed. "Cassandra, dear, amazing exhibit as always," he said, taking her hand for a kiss.

"Thank you," she said and winced when Chanty pinched her side and nudged her.

"This is my friend Mr. Miller," Mr. Staton said, indicating his hand toward his younger companion.

"Pleased to finally meet the artist," the younger man said with admiration in his eyes. "I personally like this painting," he said, looking back at the painting behind them.

Cassandra winced once again as Chanty pinched her one more time.

"Amazing shadows," Mr. Staton agreed, nodding his head. "I think I will take this one, my dear."

"It's already sold, Mr. Staton," she uttered, her voice sorry. "I guess Toni is about to tag it as such any moment now."

"Yes, it is sold," Chanty seconded, "to me."

Both gentlemen looked at her.

"It's my baby and my brother in that painting," she said.

"Oh, this is my sister-in-law, Chanty Strindberg," Cassandra introduced them when she saw the confusion on both men's eyes.

"Strindberg? You can't mean..." Mr. Staton looked back at the painting. "Are you telling me that's Philip Strindberg?"

"Yes, I believe that's me, Aaron," another voice behind them said. Cassandra froze. It felt too familiar not to recognize.

"My boy!" Mr. Staton said with a smile. "So this is your sister," he pointed at Chanty who nodded vigorously and then he looked at Cassandra, his face lighting up with understanding. "You didn't tell me you are married to this man, my dear!"

"It was just recently—"

"I think I told you I just recently got married, Aaron," Philip said with a chuckle.

"I didn't recognize you in that painting," Mr. Miller said beside the old man.

"Hank," Philip said, acknowledging the man's presence.

"Yes, I didn't recognize you in that one Philip," Aaron said.

"I guess my wife just have amazing talent with shadows that my face was almost hidden," he explained.

Cassandra's face flushed. She had not uttered a word. Just a smile here and there every time the two gentlemen happened to look at her.

"Well, now that's settled and we all know that the painting is no longer available," Chanty said, clasping her hands together, "why don't I offer you gentlemen some drinks?"

"That will be lovely," Aaron said, taking Chanty's hand to hook it in his arm. "Lead the way, child. Now, I believe we should meet soon. I do have a proposal for Strindberg Enterprises..."

"Would you like to join us?" Hank asked Philip who was still standing behind Cassandra.

"No, I think I'll pass. I still have to congratulate my wife for this amazing exhibit," her husband answered and Hank left after giving Cassandra a smile.

Now, left alone with her husband, she didn't know what to do.

"I didn't know you painted that one," he said beside her.

Cassandra did not look up at him but whirled around to go. Anywhere but away from him would do. She was not that angry anymore. But she was just in some kind of panic. He came! Shoot, he actually came!

"Cassy, where are you going?" his voice was full of warning. Okay, she was back to being Cassy. Really, he should make up his mind how to call her!

"I have to attend to my guests," she said.

"I need to talk to you," he said, holding her by the shoulder. He turned her around to face him. She did not look up, her eyes locked on his tie.

"I have to go, Philip. I don't want to talk right now."

"I'm sorry, okay? I was just talking to Bethany and—"

"Okay, okay, whatever," she cut him off.

"Hey," he caught her by the arm when she turned away. "Look," he said, his hand going inside his jacket pocket. When it came out, he was holding a piece of paper. He handed it to her and said, "It's a gift."

"What's this?" she asked curiously.

"A star," he said, beaming sheepishly.

"What do you mean?"

"Just look at it, babe," he urged.

With her eyes at him, she opened the paper and finally looked down.

She frowned. "What's this?"

Her husband sighed above her. "Just as I thought," he muttered and said loudly, "Well, last week, I've been busy looking for some ways to give you a gift for your birthday. I thought naming a star after you will be great so I checked the net. Then I found those scamming sites and decided against it. So," he looked at her with laughter in his eyes, "I called some people who called some people and finally, I was able to talk to some guys at the International Astronomical Union and got a star named after you and it's legit, babe," he finished with a proud grin.

"What?" she couldn't believe her ears. She looked down at the paper once more and finally understood what it meant. It was a letter from the International Astronomical Union, informing her that they had named a star after her with the same coordinates as the letters of her name. "How—"

"You don't want to know how I negotiated my way to get that," he interjected her question. "So, what do you think? You like it?"

"You're not kidding, are you?" she asked just to be sure.

"Of course not. So, you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" she said and jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck.

Pure happiness enveloped her as her husband caught her lips in his and for a moment there, they were lost. Hell, who wouldn't when you knew that the freaking IAU itself named a star after you?

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