A wise man once said that life was a collection of tiny, instificant moments that would ultimately amount to the story of someone’s life. It wasn’t some sort of grand story at would inspire a generation. Just the simple, everyday things that stood out to you.
And that’s what I always believed.
My life could ultimately be boiled down to a few significant moments; at first, I wouldn’t even know that they were going to stand out. But then, thanks to the gift of hindsight, I would look back and realise that that single moment was a defining moment in my life.
One such moment was the first day I saw Olivia.
From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that this wasn’t like any other woman I’d ever met. Something about her stood out, like a single rose blooming in a field of thorns. I don’t know what exactly drew my attention to her, but from the moment I saw her standing across the dance floor, I felt something shift inside me. It was as if something slotted into place, and I finally realised something I’d never even bothered about in the past.
But then she poured her drink in my face, and I was immediately disillusioned. I didn’t even get upset when she did it. I think I was just so shocked by what happened that couldn’t even react. It wasn’t until she walked away that I suddenly realised what was going on.
She probably thought I was Marcus.
That wasn’t the first time I got a drink in my face, and it wasn’t never my fault. It was the negative side of looking exactly like someone else, because there was a high probability that I would get mistaken for him. Especially since Marcus was in the spotlight now, and he was pretty much recognisable anywhere he went. That was why I dyed my hair the moment I moved to London, and why I always wore glasses whenever I was outside. I just didn’t like the stress of always being mistaken for someone else, because I did not want to ever be in the spotlight.
But I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Something about her just stayed with me, and I couldn’t look away. Maybe it was just something about the way she looked at me. Or maybe it was just the fact that she looked so beautiful, and it had been a long time since I saw a woman I was attracted to. It didn’t matter that she had humiliated me in public. I still found myself thinking about her, replaying the incident over and over in my head and hoping I would run into her once again.
