A Forbidden Love Between Worlds

He woke up early, as usual, and glanced at himself in the mirror, satisfied with his attire. This time, unlike every other morning, he dressed casually. He wore fitted black pants, a white T-shirt, and a jacket the same color as his trousers. For footwear, he chose simple black sneakers. He had combed his hair as usual, though a stray lock or two always found their way across his face. His true desire was to let his hair grow out, but he had no choice but to keep it trimmed to neck length because of his job-and because his mother kept a close eye on his appearance. Once ready to leave, he slung his belt pouch over his body. Inside, he carried everything he needed for his outing: charcoal pencils, an eraser, a blade, and his sketchbook-just in case inspiration struck him suddenly, as it often did on days like these. He didn't take his car. Instead, he decided to travel to that city by train and planned to use the bus to get around once he arrived. The visit filled him with a sense of freedom and satisfaction-finally, he would live on his own, free from his mother's constant interference. After a few hours, he reached the city and spent his time exploring it by bus and on foot, eager to familiarize himself with the place he would soon call home. By midday, he was walking downtown, searching for a good restaurant to have lunch. He hurried toward a group of people preparing to cross the street, but the traffic light turned green, forcing him to wait for it to change again. In the meantime, he amused himself by watching the cars go by. His thoughts wandered, and he didn't notice the light changing. He snapped back to reality only when he saw another group of pedestrians already crossing the street. Instead of rushing to join them, he froze in place. His eyes locked on a woman on the other side of the street, dressed in a thick gray skirt and a crisp white blouse. Her chocolate-brown, wavy hair fell just above her waist, and her figure struck him as remarkably attractive. She seemed to be in a hurry, her steps brisk against the pavement. He felt an inexplicable urge to follow her, but his body refused to cooperate. Under normal circumstances, such a desire would have struck him as odd, even unsettling, but this wasn't an ordinary situation-unless, of course, his mind was playing tricks on him. Was he seeing a vision? Could what he was witnessing truly be real? He snapped out of his trance when he noticed the woman turning a corner, about to vanish from his sight. It was then that he decided to cross the street, intending to follow her. However, the traffic light changed again, leaving him with no choice but to watch her disappear and be consumed by his lingering curiosity. *** "Earth to Edward!" A slender young man with chestnut hair approached him, dressed in an executive suit identical to his own. "What happened on your trip yesterday that's got you so lost in thought?" Edward looked at him, dazed, as though he were losing his mind. "What would you do if you saw, in real life, the face of a woman you painted in a portrait-a face you thought came from your imagination?" he asked, his voice trembling. His friend stared at him in confusion, as if he couldn't make sense of a single word. "What are you talking about?" "Do you remember the painting of the gorgeous brunette?" "Ah, yes! Your favorite piece," his friend replied. "It's an incredible painting. That woman looks so real like she could step right out of the canvas," he added, still marveling at the memory of it. "I saw her yesterday," Edward said, his voice trembling as fear flickered across his face. "What are you talking about?" His friend frowned skeptically. "Don't mess with me. You told me you didn't use a model or even a reference image for that painting." "That's true," Edward confirmed with a nod. "She came completely from my imagination." "That's impossible... Maybe you just thought you saw her." "I know what I saw," Edward stated firmly. "Did you talk to her?" "No, she was too far away. I was going to follow her, but then she disappeared." "Well, it's not really that strange. We see faces and images all the time. Even when we don't focus on them, they stay locked away in our subconscious. Maybe you painted a memory you didn't even know you had. Or it could just be a coincidence. If you saw her up close, you might realize she doesn't look as much like your painting as you think." "You're probably right." Edward let out a small laugh, feeling foolish for letting his imagination run wild. "Speaking of which, Edward-your mother is waiting for you in her office." "Oh, right!" He straightened up quickly. "Today's the meeting where they announce my transfer." "Wow! What's it like to become the new CEO of the largest branch of your parents' media empire?" "I feel a heavy weight of responsibility on my shoulders, but at the same time, a sense of freedom," Edward admitted. Both of them laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. Hours later, Edward stepped into the spacious boardroom and noticed that everyone was already in their seats. As usual, his mother sat at the head of the table, right beside his father-the undeniable rulers of the room. Their presence radiated an intensity that demanded respect, ensuring order and discipline among the employees. His mother, a strikingly beautiful, petite Asian woman, was a stark contrast to his father, a towering man with fair skin and honey-colored eyes. Edward had inherited his eye color and his solid build from his father, but everything else-his sharp features, his expressions-came from his mother. It was always amusing to see his parents together: his father, commanding attention with his sheer physical presence, and his mother, equally commanding but through the force of her will. There was no question-she was the one in charge. His older brother, on the other hand, had inherited their father's stature and features, save for his small, dark eyes, a clear gift from their mother. As the eldest, he was next in line to become the CEO of their family's primary company. Edward, meanwhile, was set to take the reins of a branch in another city, as the current CEO of that location was retiring. The details of his transfer were finalized, but there was one unexpected change-they had moved up his departure to just two weeks away. For some reason, this impending trip filled him with a deep, inexplicable happiness. It felt as though something was waiting for him there, something that would finally bring him the answers he had been searching for. Perhaps, in that new city, he would be able to shake off the emptiness and sense of loss that had been haunting him in this place.