Dead wife

Emma POV

"Tayla," I felt a light touch on my shoulder and when I turned around, I saw a young man in his early thirties standing behind me. His eyes was like the depth of the ocean. His jawline was chiseled and well defined. High cheekbones that looked as if he has been mewing for a long time now. His short, dark hair was neatly trimmed at the side of his face.

He had a warm smile on his face as he stared at me.

"I have been searching for you. Where have you been?" He asked grabbing my wrist roughly and I instinctively took a step backward.

"I think there might be a misunderstanding here," I said. "My name is Emma and not Tayla."

"You are not Tayla?" He tilted his head to the side frowning.

"No," I quickly took my hand away from him and turned around to walk away.

I continued walking until I come across the huge portrait of me hung on the wall. Being a supermodel, it was not a surprise thing to see my pictures on the billboard or anywhere. I smiled turning to the man who was standing next to me holding a book and pen.

"How much does this portrait cost?" I asked.

"Ms Emma all three painting has been sold out," he replied with a warm smile.

I frowned slightly. That was very rare to see all three portraits sold at the same time.

"To whom?" She asked.

"Him," the man nudged his head and I slowly turned around to see the man from earlier standing behind me. He has a very soft smile as his eyes moved from the man to me. 

"I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding earlier," he said. "The thing is that you look exactly like my late wife."

"And you bought all three of my pictures? To do what?" I asked.

He moved closer to me, his broad shoulders intimidating my small size. 

"Ever since my wife passed away few years ago, I lost everything that holds memory about her. When I ran across you here, for a moment I thought you were my wife. I bought the paintings because you reminds me of her," he said.

My heart clenched at his words and my expression softened.

"I'm truly sorry for the loss of your wife," I said. "But I am not Tayla. My name is Emma."

"Emma," he nodded slowly. "I am Alexander but you can call me Alex."

"If there is anything else—"

"I'd want us to go for dinner tomorrow evening if you wouldn't be busy, please," he said.

I already had an appointment for a four hours Photoshoot on Saturday but seeing how this man looked hurt by the passing of his late wife I decided that I would cancel any plan for the evening.

"Okay," I said and he smiled before exchanging contact with me.

"See you soon, Emma." He smiled before turning around. 

The way he spoke my name made me feel shiver running down my back. I slowly bite my lips before turning around and I left.

When I reached my apartment, I sat down on the couch before sighing heavily.

"Where have you been?" I heard a voice and I slowly turned around to see my cook, Olivia. Olivia was a short young girl about my age which was twenty two. She had long dark brunette hair and tan skin.

"I thought you would come for lunch," she said. "The food is already cold."

I sighed. "I went to the mall to pick a few things."

I slowly bite my lips when I remembered the look on Alexander's face when he mentioned my name.

"Are you biting your lips?" Olivia asked with widened eyes, something she hadn't seen me do for a long time.

"I ran into a man who had bought all three portraits of me because I looked like his dead wife," I said.

"He wants me to go eat dinner with him tomorrow evening," I ended.

"And you trusted him?" Her eyes was still widened with surprise.

"He's hot and charming. What do you expect me to do?" I asked.

"Emma," she placed the brush aside and slowly approached me. 

"You shouldn't trust men of these days," she said, her voice sounding just like my dead mom. "Gone are those days when men would buy your portraits just to admire you. These days they buy them just to satisfy their sexual urge. This is 2024 Emma, you need to open your eyes."

"What do you mean?" I frowned slightly.

"Some men usually buy these paintings because it turns them on sexually. Don't tell me it is that picture where you looked half naked with just a cloth piece around your boobs?" She tilted her head.

"It is," I sighed, wondering if I was a fool for allowing to go on dinner with him. Don't blame me, it was out of pity.

Before she could open her mouth to scold me more, I stood up from the couch.

"It's just one dinner and everything's gonna be over, okay?" I tilted my head. "I will be in my room."

"What about the food?" She asked.

"Don't have any appetite!" I yelled as I climbed the stairs up to my room. 

Reaching my room, I walked towards the mirror and sat down before pulling the drawer. I took out my diary before placing it in front of me and I sighed. It's been a week since I wrote anything in it. This diary was dedicated to my late parents who died in a car accident since five years ago. The pain was still fresh in my head and the more I think about them, the more I realize that they were now becoming distant memories in my head.