The Mirror That Spoke Back

Author : shams khan

It started as nothing more than an accident.

Leena was exploring her grandmother’s attic on a quiet Sunday afternoon, brushing aside cobwebs and sneezing at dust that seemed older than time. She had always loved this part of the house. The attic was like a museum of forgotten lives—old trunks, brittle photographs, yellowed letters that no one had opened in decades. But what caught her eye that day was something she had never noticed before: a tall, narrow mirror leaning against the far wall, hidden beneath a moth-eaten sheet.

Curiosity tugged at her, and she pulled the sheet away. The mirror was strange, unlike anything else she had ever seen. Its frame was carved with patterns of vines and eyes, as if the wood itself was watching. The glass shimmered faintly, not like an ordinary reflection, but as though it were made of liquid light.

When she looked into it, her reflection looked back. At first, everything was normal—the same brown eyes, the same braid falling over her shoulder, the same faint scar on her cheek. But then the reflection smiled before she did.

Leena’s heart stumbled in her chest.

She stepped back, rubbed her eyes, and leaned forward again. This time, her reflection tilted its head and said softly, “Finally.”

Her knees nearly buckled. “You… you can talk?”

The reflection laughed, a sound eerily like hers, but richer, sharper. “Of course I can. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Leena stumbled backward, bumping into a trunk. “This isn’t real.”

“Real?” The reflection pressed its hands against the glass. “I am as real as you are. In fact, perhaps more.”

Against her better judgment, Leena leaned closer. “Who are you?”

“I am you,” the reflection whispered. “Or rather, the version of you that could have been. Every choice you did not make, every road you did not walk—I live them all.”

Leena shook her head. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” The reflection’s eyes glittered. “Do you remember when you almost confessed your feelings to Daniel in high school but stayed silent? Or when you thought about applying to that art school but never did? I did those things. I lived them. And I can tell you what would have happened.”

Leena’s breath caught. She had spent years wondering about those very moments. “You… know?”

“I do.” The reflection leaned closer. “Would you like to see?”

Leena hesitated, then nodded.

The mirror rippled like water. Images formed—Leena laughing with Daniel under the stars, holding his hand as though it had always been hers. Another scene flashed: her paintings hanging in a bright studio, people applauding, her face lit with pride.

Tears filled her eyes. “That… that could have been me?”

“It still could be,” the reflection purred. “But only if you let me help. All you have to do is trust me.”

For days after, Leena couldn’t stay away from the mirror. She crept back to the attic every night, drawn to its promises. The reflection showed her versions of herself she never thought possible: successful, fearless, deeply loved. Each vision left her hungrier for more.

But slowly, she began to notice something else.

Her reflection’s eyes grew darker. Its smiles were sharper, almost cruel. And sometimes, when she turned away quickly, she thought she saw it moving when she was not.

One night, she asked, “Why do you want to help me?”

The reflection grinned. “Because your world is dull and wasted. You live half a life. I could live it better.”

A chill ran through her. “Better… how?”

“By taking your place.”

Leena’s stomach knotted. “No.”

“Yes,” the reflection hissed, pressing its palms harder against the glass. “You’ve had your chance. You wasted it. But me—I can be everything you were too afraid to become. All I need is permission.”

Leena backed away. “You’re not me.”

“I am more you than you’ll ever be,” it snapped. The mirror shuddered violently, cracks forming across its surface. The attic air grew cold, heavy. “Let me out, Leena. Or you will regret it.”

Panic surged through her veins. She grabbed the sheet and threw it over the mirror. The glass screamed—a sharp, metallic sound that pierced her ears. Then silence.

Her heart thundered as she ran downstairs, slamming the attic door shut. She never told anyone what happened, but from that night on, she avoided the attic completely.

Years passed.

Leena grew older, her life moving along its quiet, careful path. She never chased Daniel. She never applied to art school. She found steady work, a small apartment, and routines that kept her safe. But every now and then, when she caught her reflection in a shop window or a bathroom mirror, she thought she saw something—just a flicker—of another face staring back, lips curling into a smile that wasn’t hers.

And sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet, she swore she could hear a voice drifting down from the attic.

“Still wasting your life, Leena?

When you’re ready…

I’ll be waiting.”