The Reflection That Loved Him First

The Reflection Knows

The reflection smiled when Michael stepped into her room. She was sitting on his bed, wearing Lila's hoodie, legs crossed, scrolling lazily on her phone. The air felt heavier than usual, a faint scent of cold glass and something sweet that made Michael uneasy.

"You're acting different," he said, closing the door behind him. His voice was soft but loaded with suspicion.

"Different how?" she asked without looking up. Her smile was slow, deliberate, practiced as though she knew exactly what she was doing.

"No, it's not just that. Last week, you ignored me. You didn't even text. And now... you're here, smiling like nothing happened."

She leaned closer, resting her elbows on her knees. "Things change," she said softly. "People change. But I still care about you."

Michael frowned. "Why did you change your plans that night? You said you had homework. But you disappeared."

She looked at him then, her eyes glimmering in a way that wasn't quite human. "I had... other things to think about," she said.

Michael's jaw tightened. "Like what?"

"Like us," she whispered.

Her voice wrapped around him, pulling him closer. He hesitated for a second before she kissed him  slow, soft, but there was something cold under her lips that made his stomach tighten.

"Something feels wrong," he murmured against her hoodie.

"Don't think so much," she said, smiling.

And they stayed there, the air between them thick and quiet except for her faint laughter.

The next day at school, Michael couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. As he walked the hallway toward Lila's locker, his phone buzzed. A message flashed across the screen: "I want to see her. Tonight."

His fingers clenched around the phone. Something in his chest tightened, a mix of fear and disbelief. He glanced toward the row of mirrors lining the hallway. His own reflection shimmered strangely, almost like a ripple in water. He blinked. The image was gone.

That night, Lila was trapped. Pressed against the cold glass of the mirror in her bedroom, he breath fogged the surface. Cracks spider-webbed outward, glowing faintly. Through them, she could see her reflection  her face, her body lying beside Michael.

She reached for the glass, pounding on it with her palm.

Michael's voice came faintly, almost a whisper. "I know she's not you."

Lila froze. Her chest tightened. His voice  it wasn't loud enough to carry far, but it slipped through anyway, a thread of hope.

The reflection turned toward her, smiling slow and victorious. "He suspects," she whispered to herself.

Michael's voice was now urgent. "Lila... if you can hear me... I know it's not you."

Lila banged her fists harder against the glass. Her scream was silent, but her reflection  smiling, unshaken looked at her as if mocking her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," the reflection whispered softly. "I'll handle everything out there."

The cracks bloomed brighter, spreading like veins across the glass. Lila's scream grew more desperate.

That night, Michael sat in his bedroom, staring at the reflection lying beside him. "We need to talk," he said.

"Talk?" she asked, her voice smooth, almost amused. "We just got here."

"No," he said, sitting upright, his voice shaking. "About you. I know you're not Lila."

She smirked faintly. "What if I told you she's not coming back?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's trapped. And I'm living her life now," she said softly, brushing her hair from her face. "You want me to stop?"

"You can't just... take her place," Michael said, his voice trembling.

"Why not?" she asked, stepping closer. "I'm better. People will see it eventually."

Michael's hand trembled as he reached for her arm. "Where are you going?"

"To finish what I started," she said. Her fingers touched the mirror in his room. The glass pulsed, cracks glowing faintly. Before he could react, she slipped through it, as if she were water.

Lila screamed, trapped. She pounded the glass harder, desperate. Michael stood frozen before her bedroom mirror, whispering softly.

"Lila... I know she's not you."

The reflection's voice drifted to him, slow and triumphant. "Let her stay. This is mine now."

The cracks in the mirror pulsed like a living thing. Michael reached forward, fingertips brushing cold glass. Behind it, Lila's silent scream echoed louder, desperate and broken.

The reflection smiled. Slow. Deliberate. Victorious.

And the glass swallowed everything.