Shattered Glass And Good Luck.

The morning always belonged to her. Early rising had settled into her life the same way birds claim the first bit of sky. Quiet. Predictable. Soft around the edges. On this particular morning the quiet felt almost thoughtful as if the room itself had decided to keep its voice low.

She moved through her space with the familiar steps she had taken a thousand times before. She set her phone and ring lights aside so they would be ready for her meeting once she finished showering. She did not rush. She never rushed in the morning. The calmness of the hour worked like a small shelter around her.

After her shower she sat at her dressing table. The glass panel that covered the white tabletop held a slow glimmer beneath the early light. She reached for her moisturiser and smoothed it across her face. Then came her skin tint, soft and even. Then a bit of eyebrow liner. Then lip gloss that caught the light in a quiet way. That was her whole routine. Simple and natural. Exactly enough.

Her mind drifted toward God the way a leaf drifts across still water. No effort. No push. The conversation slipped into place as if it had been waiting at the edge of her thoughts. The same worries had followed her for weeks. Longer even. She had spoken to Him about them many times. The questions and the hopes and the slow tug in her heart had formed a kind of rhythm inside her. As she touched her face lightly with her fingertips, she spoke to Him again. A gentle voice. A gentle confession.

When she shifted forward she noticed a small smear of skin tint on the glass panel. It was barely visible and she assumed it would come away easily. She took a cloth and rubbed softly, but instead of fading the stain grew. It widened stubbornly, almost as if the glass wanted to keep a mark of the morning with it.

She did not feel like lifting the entire mirror and top of the vanity. That whole structure always felt heavier than it looked. So she slipped her fingers beneath the edge of the glass panel and lifted it just enough to slide something under it. Her touch stayed light. Careful. Barely more than a breath of pressure.

Then the sound came. A single pop that cracked through the quiet. The glass shattered in one clean burst as if it had been holding tension for years and finally found an excuse to let go. She froze with her hand still under the edge. The panel that had been whole only a second earlier was now a web of glittering fractures.

Her heart startled. The room stayed silent except for the hum of morning. She stared at the shards and the old thought rose in her mind the way memories sometimes leap forward without being called. Seven years of bad luck. The superstition echoed faintly like a story from childhood.

Before the worry could settle on her shoulders, a steadier voice filled her spirit. Clear and warm. No. Seven years of bad luck just ended. The words felt as real as the broken glass in front of her. She breathed out slowly, the truth of it sinking into her in a way that felt almost peaceful.

Out of nowhere the name of that Daddy Yankee song she loved slipped into the quiet. El Toque. She said it aloud without thinking. The sound of it made her lips curve into the smallest smile. Then she whispered "touch" to herself because that really was all it took. A touch. A small lift. And everything had given way.

She looked at the shattered pieces glinting on the tabletop. The rising sun light caught them gently and for a moment they looked like something new rather than something broken. She felt a shift inside herself that had been building for weeks. Something that had been unclear now felt steady.

"My transformation is complete." The thought settled into her mind with a soft certainty. It was not a dramatic moment. It was quiet. It was honest. It was the kind of truth that arrives on mornings when the world does not feel the need to hurry.

The room remained still. The quiet stayed loyal. She stood there in front of the glass that had surrendered under her touch and felt the quiet amazement of someone who understood that sometimes things break not to harm you but to open the door for something new.