The Mirror’s Memory

When Elise bought the mirror from the estate sale, she hadn’t expected it to feel alive.

It was tall and Victorian, framed in ornate brass vines, the kind you’d imagine in a haunted castle. Dust had blanketed it like it had been asleep for decades. She only bought it because it reminded her of something—though she couldn’t say what.

The first time she cleaned it, she caught a glimpse of herself.

But not herself.

In the reflection, she was wearing her old engagement ring—the one she had thrown back at Daniel five years ago before walking out forever.

In this mirror, Elise had said “yes.”

She blinked and shook her head, thinking it was a trick of the light. But when she looked again, the vision remained. She traced the gold ring on her reflection’s finger.

She watched herself kiss Daniel in a kitchen that wasn’t hers anymore.

The image shimmered.

Then faded.

She tested the mirror again the next morning. This time, she saw herself as a travel writer, backpacking across Thailand. That was her dream, wasn’t it? One she’d buried after her mother got sick. In the reflection, she was sunburned and smiling, notebook in hand.

Each day, the mirror showed her a new life—each based on a choice she didn’t make.

Saying yes instead of no.

Staying instead of leaving.

Jumping instead of hesitating.

She stopped watching TV. Stopped reading. Stopped checking texts. Nothing could compare to the alternate lives the mirror unfolded for her.

It became an obsession.

Weeks passed, and she noticed something else.

The reflections began to change more slowly. They weren’t snapshots anymore—they were scenes. And the versions of her inside them became more… aware.

One morning, Elise leaned close to see herself painting in a sunlit studio. She sighed. That had been her dream once, too.

Then the reflection froze. The version of her inside the mirror looked up, directly into her eyes.

And smiled.

Elise staggered back.

She told herself it was just a dream. Just stress. But the next day, it happened again.

This time, the mirrored Elise sat on a couch—same couch as hers—but the living room looked brighter. She was wearing blue. Elise never wore blue.

She watched, horrified, as the mirrored Elise picked up a notebook and wrote something down.

Then she held up the page to the glass.

It read:

“Why did you leave me here?”

From that point, the mirror no longer showed random lives.

It showed only one.

That one version of Elise—always wearing blue, always in the same room—watching her from behind the glass. Living a life that looked like hers, but better. Warmer.

She smiled less now.

And stared more.

Elise tried to cover the mirror with a cloth. But every time she walked past, she swore she heard something from underneath.

Breathing?

Whispering?

She moved the mirror to the garage. She told herself she’d sell it. But late at night, she’d find herself standing in front of it again.

One evening, she gathered the courage to speak.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The woman in the mirror lifted her hand—and mirrored Elise perfectly. Until she winked.

That night, Elise dreamed she was on the other side of the glass. She could see herself sleeping in bed. She screamed. Pounded the mirror. But no one heard.

She woke up gasping.

On the final night, Elise stared at the mirror for a long time.

The woman in blue stood just as still.

“Do you want to trade places?” Elise whispered.

The woman smiled.

Elise placed her hand on the glass.

So did she.

A jolt of cold shot up Elise’s arm.

And then—

Elise woke up on a couch.

The room was warm. Brighter.

She looked down. She was wearing blue.

In the hallway, she saw a mirror leaning against the wall.

Her face inside it stared back.

Mouth wide open.

Eyes screaming.

The Mirror’s Memory

(c) 2025 by [Talha Maroof]