It was a rainy afternoon when the package finally arrived—a long, flat box wrapped tightly in brown paper, slightly worn at the corners like it had traveled further than the seller ever admitted.

The mirror.

Ancient-looking. Ornate gold trim, laced with floral engravings that time had tried and failed to erode. The glass had that old-world shimmer, like it remembered everything it had ever reflected. It was beautiful. It was cheap. It was too good to be true.

I dragged a chair to the center of my room, balancing carefully as I worked to install it onto my ceiling—right above my bed. My fingers trembled slightly, but not from the effort. Just… anticipation, maybe. I liked the strange charm it brought to the space. Vintage. Dreamy. Aesthetic.

Click.

It was in place. Perfectly aligned. I stepped down from the chair and stared up at it, admiring how the light danced on the glass.

A little eerie, sure. But aesthetic wins, right?

I flopped onto my bed with a small sigh of satisfaction, still looking up.

And for a brief moment—

Just a flicker—

My reflection didn’t move with me.

I narrowed my eyes at the slight glitch but brushed it aside as a mere trick of my eyes.

After discarding the trash, I made my way towards my bed, sitting down against the headboard reading a book as usually.

Books have always been my greatest friend, Not the academic one though.

Soon enough, The Day started to worn out and the quiet darkness of the night took over, Creating that calm yet chilling atmosphere.

The rain hadn’t stopped yet. It whispered against my windows like a quiet warning, but I was too immersed in the pages of my book to listen. The light from my lamp cast a warm pool around me, leaving the rest of the room to shadows.

The mirror above stayed still.

Silent.

Watching.

But not reflecting.

Every now and then, I glanced up instinctively. Maybe to check my hair. Maybe just out of habit. But what I didn’t realize—not truly, not yet—was that my reflection hadn’t once looked down.

It was still.

Frozen.

And curled up in the corner of the mirrored ceiling like a weeping child, knees pulled to chest, eyes shadowed under messy hair.

Except I wasn’t curled up.

I wasn’t crying.

And I wasn’t wearing that faded gown the mirror showed.

Yet, the figure remained.

One night in, and already the room wasn’t mine alone anymore.

An hour or so passed before the weight of words grew heavy in my hands. I placed the book gently on the table, the final page still whispering to my thoughts. With a tired sigh, I slid beneath the blanket’s embrace, the world around me softening into hush and shadow.

My eyes wandered upward, catching the mirror above.

There I was—reflected and real—smirking to myself as I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, a playful little gesture, as if I sought to charm the ghost of myself. The glass shimmered faintly in the low light, and for a moment, I stayed there, gazing...

Flirting with my own illusion.

Sleep came slowly, wrapping me in silence. My breath grew quiet, even, dream-bound. I closed my eyes, unaware—blissfully so—that the mirror did not hold just me.

There was another.

It had been there from the beginning.

In the mirror’s frame…

Where shadows grew teeth.

Where something waited, unseen—its presence leaking out in the form of a darkness far too still, too shaped to be innocent.

And though I paid it no mind, it saw me.

It watched as I drifted into sleep.

And it smiled.

---

The lamp buzzed softly, a lonely hum in the quiet of the room. My breathing evened out, lips slightly parted as sleep claimed me, lashes brushing my cheeks like little whispers. I looked peaceful.

But peace is only for those who are truly alone.

And I wasn't.

Not tonight.

Not anymore.

From the mirror frame, the shadow twitched.

It was slow—careful. Like it knew my sleep was still light, still vulnerable to the smallest creak or shift of air. But it was patient. It had all the time in the world.

The mirror above didn’t reflect me anymore. It reflected something else entirely.

Something that crawled—not across the floor—but across the other side of the mirror.

The curled-up figure wasn’t there now.

He had moved.

He was standing now—just barely, hunched like something that forgot how to be human. His head tilted ever so slightly as he watched me with unblinking eyes from the ceiling above.

And his lips, once neutral and vacant… twitched upward. A small, almost childlike smile.

Twisted.

Pleased.

I didn’t see it.

But my room wasn’t as cold as it should’ve been.

Something was breathing with me.

Breathing for me.

And maybe—

just maybe—

Learning how to take my place.

The night passed like a gust of wind,

And so came the next morning--

My eyes fluttered open and the first sight I saw was my own self.

Not so pretty, But for my own self? I was the prettiest girl out there.

The mirror showed me—hair a little messy from sleep, eyes a bit puffy, but still that confident little smirk on my lips like I owned the world. I always did. A queen in my little kingdom of soft blankets and quiet mornings.

I didn't notice it then.

Not the shift in my reflection.

Not the way my mirrored self’s smile lagged half a second behind the real one.

Not the flicker in the eyes like the wrong soul was watching me from behind glass.

I turned away, the reflection still facing forward a beat too long before copying the movement.

As I brushed your teeth, I noticed the towel wasn’t where you usually leave it. The toothpaste cap had been placed back on, even though I never do that. Little things.

Tiny, harmless things.

Or maybe not so harmless.

I was never so organized, Maybe that's why I couldn't pinpoint what was changed.

Was it the book that I placed not so aligned with the table corner now being aligned?

Or was it the picture on the shelf tilted back on its place?

The room felt the same… but not. There was something new hanging in the air. A breath that didn’t belong to me. A presence too faint to touch but too strong to ignore. It was watching. Waiting.

And above my bed… the mirror stayed silent. Calm.

But behind it, he grinned.

The gap had closed just an inch more.

___