The Mirror That Remembers

The Mirror That Remembers

By (Mukhles hassan)

The mirror was unlike any other Arman had ever seen. It was tall, arched at the top, wrapped in a dull golden frame with vines carved around its edges. He found it tucked away in the attic of his late grandfather’s old cottage, covered under a heavy sheet, almost as if it were asleep — waiting.

He had only come to the cottage to pack things up, maybe keep a few mementos, and sell the rest. But this mirror… it pulled at something deep in his chest, like a string tied to a forgotten memory.

It wasn’t the mirror’s design that intrigued him, but what happened the moment he stood in front of it.

At first, he saw himself—unkempt, tired eyes, and a weary face. But then, the image shimmered slightly, like a ripple in a still pond. The reflection didn’t mimic him anymore. It showed a version of him—maybe sixteen years old—standing in the kitchen of his childhood home, nervously holding a broken vase behind his back.

His lips in the mirror moved:

"I didn’t break it, Mom. Maybe it was the cat."

The scene faded. Another one emerged.

A classroom. High school. He was standing before a girl—Leena—his best friend at the time. He could see himself saying:

"Of course I told everyone we’re just friends. Why would I lie?"

Again, the image shimmered and changed.

Each time, the mirror showed only moments when he had spoken the truth — but truth he had buried, run from, or denied. And each truth came with a forgotten sting.

At first, Arman thought it was a hallucination. Maybe grief had played tricks on him. But the more he visited the mirror, the more real it felt. He even tested it: standing before it and saying something deliberately false. The mirror stayed still. No shimmer. No image. But when he whispered a hidden truth — the air shifted, the glass stirred, and the past unfolded.

Soon, he couldn’t stop.

He began confessing to the mirror. Little truths. Then bigger ones.

"I hated the way Dad left without a word."

"I never really wanted to be an engineer — I just didn’t want to disappoint Mom."

"I pushed Leena away because I was scared she'd see who I really am."

And each time, the mirror would show him those moments — raw and unfiltered — as they truly happened. Not how he remembered them. Not how he wished them to be.

One evening, Arman sat on the dusty attic floor, staring into the mirror for what felt like hours. His voice trembled as he whispered:

"I’m afraid I’ve become someone I never wanted to be."

This time, the mirror did not show a past event. Instead, his own reflection stared back, but it was different—calmer, kinder. A small smile lingered on the reflection’s face.

For the first time, Arman didn’t feel judged by the truth. He felt… seen.

---

In the days that followed, something inside him changed. He no longer feared honesty. Conversations with his mother became more open. He reconnected with Leena after years, this time with no masks. He even began writing again — something he had abandoned when life became "too real."

The mirror remained in the attic. He didn’t bring it downstairs, nor did he tell anyone about it. It had served its purpose. It had remembered the truths he had long forgotten — not to haunt him, but to free him.

Before leaving the cottage for good, he draped the sheet back over the mirror. But not before whispering:

"Thank you... for remembering."

As he turned away, the mirror shimmered one last time.

---

Moral Thought:

Sometimes, the heaviest weight we carry is not lies we tell others — but the truths we bury within ourselves. But truth, when faced with courage, doesn't destroy — it heals.