His Lover

When Lucas left, I lay down on the bed, my head resting on the elevated pillows at the headboard. My thoughts are preoccupied as my curious eyes surveyed the room. 

The room gave me a different vibe. It feels like it doesn't belong to me and that I haven't been here before. 

My wandering gaze pulled into a stop at the left side of the room where a large portrait of a woman stood. A woman with red copper curls gloriously tumbling down her shoulders was seated elegantly in a throne-like chair. 

Her bright amber eyes stared back at me and a sudden chill ran down my spine. It was unexpected, and I couldn't explain the feeling. 

The woman in the portrait was me. But there was something about her which tell me I wasn't her. Just for example the silk night gown she was wearing, leaving nothing to the imagination. I was so sure that I would never wear a revealing outfit like that even if someone would put a shotgun on my head.