After my college roommates all found boyfriends and kept trying to set me up, I invented a fake boyfriend just to escape their endless matchmaking pressure. For two years, that imaginary relationship became my perfect excuse to avoid awkward dates, late-night outings, and every situation that made me uncomfortable. So that night, when everyone's boyfriends came to pick them up, I said casually, "My boyfriend is working late tonight, he cannot come." The moment we stepped outside, a luxury black van stopped in front of me, and a chauffeur opened the door like everything was completely normal. "Ms. Hayes, your boyfriend arranged this ride for you, please get in," he said politely, as if this had been planned long ago. I froze instantly, because I knew better than anyone that my boyfriend did not exist at all. My roommates exploded with excitement, teasing me about hiding a rich boyfriend, while I forced a smile and stepped into the car anyway. When I returned to my dorm, I found a beautifully wrapped gift on my desk, even though I had not ordered anything recently. Inside was an expensive skincare set I had only mentioned casually the day before, something I could not afford at all. A card rested on top, written in unfamiliar handwriting that made my chest tighten immediately. "You do not have to wait until thirty, you can have it now, your loving boyfriend." The next morning, things escalated further when the dorm staff called out, "Elena, someone sent you breakfast just in time for your early class." Inside the bag was my favorite lobster roll and hot coffee, along with another note that made my hands tremble slightly. "Remember to eat breakfast, do not go to class hungry, your loving boyfriend." I grabbed the courier and asked nervously, "What does my boyfriend actually look like, can you tell me?" He shook his head and said, "I did not see him, but someone this thoughtful is definitely worth keeping." That was when fear started growing inside me, because this person knew details about my life that no stranger should know. Every small inconvenience was solved instantly, as if someone was watching me and intervening without ever showing themselves. At first it felt like care, but soon it became suffocating, because I realized I was being watched constantly. The breaking point came when I went home and cried alone about my mother's struggling fruit market, telling absolutely no one about it. The next morning, everything was suddenly fixed by a business deal we never asked for, and a familiar card was waiting again. "A little something for my future mother-in-law, your loving boyfriend," it read, making my blood run cold instantly. I tried everything to escape, checking for trackers, scanning my house, and even replacing my phone completely. For three days, nothing happened, and I almost believed it was finally over and I could breathe again. Then I had a dream where a man stood in darkness, his voice soft and unsettling as he spoke directly to me. "Your birthday is coming soon, let me give you something special, just for you," he said in a tone that felt strangely familiar. I woke up shaking, because only my mother knew my real birthday, and I had never told anyone else. My phone buzzed in the silence, and I picked it up with trembling hands, already afraid of what I might see. A bank notification appeared, showing a deposit so large that my mind could not process it immediately. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars had been transferred into my account without warning or explanation. And the message attached to it was simple, intimate, and absolutely terrifying in a way I could not ignore. "Happy twentieth birthday, baby." I dropped my phone and stared at it, because at that moment I finally understood something that made everything feel wrong. This was never a coincidence, and it was never just a secret admirer trying to impress me quietly. Someone had been watching me for a long time, controlling everything around me, and stepping into my life without permission. And the most terrifying part was not the money or the gifts, but the realization that I might already be trapped inside his plan without any way out. Who exactly is this person?!
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After my college roommates all found boyfriends and kept trying to set me up, I invented a fake boyfriend just to escape their endless matchmaking pressure. For two years, that imaginary relationship became my perfect excuse to avoid awkward dates, late-night outings, and every situation that made me uncomfortable. So that night, when everyone's boyfriends came to pick them up, I said casually, "My boyfriend is working late tonight, he cannot come." The moment we stepped outside, a luxury black van stopped in front of me, and a chauffeur opened the door like everything was completely normal. "Ms. Hayes, your boyfriend arranged this ride for you, please get in," he said politely, as if this had been planned long ago. I froze instantly, because I knew better than anyone that my boyfriend did not exist at all. My roommates exploded with excitement, teasing me about hiding a rich boyfriend, while I forced a smile and stepped into the car anyway. When I returned to my dorm, I found a beautifully wrapped gift on my desk, even though I had not ordered anything recently. Inside was an expensive skincare set I had only mentioned casually the day before, something I could not afford at all. A card rested on top, written in unfamiliar handwriting that made my chest tighten immediately. "You do not have to wait until thirty, you can have it now, your loving boyfriend." The next morning, things escalated further when the dorm staff called out, "Elena, someone sent you breakfast just in time for your early class." Inside the bag was my favorite lobster roll and hot coffee, along with another note that made my hands tremble slightly. "Remember to eat breakfast, do not go to class hungry, your loving boyfriend." I grabbed the courier and asked nervously, "What does my boyfriend actually look like, can you tell me?" He shook his head and said, "I did not see him, but someone this thoughtful is definitely worth keeping." That was when fear started growing inside me, because this person knew details about my life that no stranger should know. Every small inconvenience was solved instantly, as if someone was watching me and intervening without ever showing themselves. At first it felt like care, but soon it became suffocating, because I realized I was being watched constantly. The breaking point came when I went home and cried alone about my mother's struggling fruit market, telling absolutely no one about it. The next morning, everything was suddenly fixed by a business deal we never asked for, and a familiar card was waiting again. "A little something for my future mother-in-law, your loving boyfriend," it read, making my blood run cold instantly. I tried everything to escape, checking for trackers, scanning my house, and even replacing my phone completely. For three days, nothing happened, and I almost believed it was finally over and I could breathe again. Then I had a dream where a man stood in darkness, his voice soft and unsettling as he spoke directly to me. "Your birthday is coming soon, let me give you something special, just for you," he said in a tone that felt strangely familiar. I woke up shaking, because only my mother knew my real birthday, and I had never told anyone else. My phone buzzed in the silence, and I picked it up with trembling hands, already afraid of what I might see. A bank notification appeared, showing a deposit so large that my mind could not process it immediately. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars had been transferred into my account without warning or explanation. And the message attached to it was simple, intimate, and absolutely terrifying in a way I could not ignore. "Happy twentieth birthday, baby." I dropped my phone and stared at it, because at that moment I finally understood something that made everything feel wrong. This was never a coincidence, and it was never just a secret admirer trying to impress me quietly. Someone had been watching me for a long time, controlling everything around me, and stepping into my life without permission. And the most terrifying part was not the money or the gifts, but the realization that I might already be trapped inside his plan without any way out. Who exactly is this person?!
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I found the secret couple's acc0unt on his old computer. Eight years of posts. Eight years of her. He took her to Iceland every September. I begged him for those photos once. He said it was a waste of m0ney. Last night, he came home with a keychain for me. And a suitcase full of gifts for her parents. This morning, I made him breakfast. He left because she had a fever. The wedding photos we were supposed to take today? Canceled. I packed one suitcase. That's all I had after eight years. Then I opened my laptop and posted everything. The screenshots. The timeline. The other woman's smug captions. [Eight years. Now the whole world knows.] I left the keychain on the table. My plane leaves in three hours. He's still peeling apples for her. But he doesn't know yet. The apartment deed with my name on it? I signed it over to a domestic violence shelter this morning. Every designer shirt I helped pay for? Already donated. And that little envelope I left inside his nightstand? The recording he thought I deleted is inside. He'll open it tonight. Right after he finds out I'm gone. When I canceled the five-figure wedding photo package, the consultant at the studio froze. "Ms. Hayes, the deposit is nonrefundable. Are you sure you don't want to wait until your fiancé gets back from his business trip and discuss it with him?" I pushed the receipt across the counter and said softly, "There's no need. He's busy watching the northern lights in Iceland with his childhood sweeth34rt." Michael Whitmore and I had been together for eight years. During those eight years, I had told him countless times that I wanted to take our wedding photos beneath the northern lights in Iceland. Every time, he would frown and say, "It's far and expensive. Don't waste m0#n33y on that kind of flashy nonsense. A wedding photography studio can just Photoshop in the northern lights afterward. It's basically the same." Then, last night, I found a couple's acc0#unt with more than a m!11=!on followers on his old computer. For eight full years, there had been hvnd=r3#ds of posts, and every single one was about him traveling around the world with his childhood sweeth34rt. They even went to Iceland every year to take an anniversary photo beneath the northern lights. So it turned out he did understand romance. He just never wanted to give any of it to me. When the refund came through, I stared at the wedding dress in the display window, the one I had tried on three times, and broke down sobbing. The manager handed me a tissue and asked carefully, "We really can't refund the deposit. Would you like to switch to an on-location package instead?" I shook my head. "No, thank you." I had already bought a plane ticket to Southern Europe, leaving in three days. If the moon would never come to me, then I would go chase my own sun. *** The moment I walked out of the wedding photography studio, my m0m called. "Lily, your d4d and I have been talking. We're thinking of selling the old house back home, putting together some extra m0#n33y, and helping you and Michael afford a home in New York City." "If you don't have a place of your own and his family mistreats you after you marry him, you won't even have anywhere to go." The sound of my parents' voices made my nose sting. "M0m, don't. I'm not going to marry Michael." The other end of the line went quiet. Then my d4d took the phone and asked, "Did he mistreat you? Or does his family look down on us because we're poor and not from New York?" My parents had always felt sorry for everything I had endured in this city. If I had not been so determined to be with Michael back then, they never would have agreed to this marriage. "No, D4d." I tilted my head back and forced my tears not to fall. "I accepted an overseas design project. I'll be gone for three years, and the pay is really good. When I come back, I'll buy a house with a garden back home. I won't keep making myself miserable here." I lied to them and spent a long time calming them down before they finally stopped pressing me. After I hung up, a notification from that couple's acc0#unt appeared at the top of my screen. In the photo, their fingers were interlaced, with the breathtaking northern lights of Iceland behind them. The caption read, [Eight years in, with the northern lights as our witness, we're still each other's one and only.] I stared at the words "one and only" on the screen, and my fingers began to tremble before I even realized it. It had been eight years. Michael had never once posted me on his Instagram feed. Every time I asked, he would say, "Lily, at my age, I don't like putting my private life online." So it turned out he did like showing off his relationship online. I just had never been worth posting. When I got home, there was a stuffed animal sitting in the entryway with a note tucked underneath it. [Michael's hot chamomile tea for cramps works so well! Here's my favorite plushie as a reward!] I stood there as my eyes began to bv/rn. Last month, my period cramps were so bad I could not get out of bed, and I begged him to make me a mug of hot chamomile tea. At the time, he had been on the phone with Sophia Reed, looking impatient. "Lily, can you stop being so dramatic? What would a grown man like me know about making that? Just order something on DoorDash." But as I looked at Sophia's note, I realized he did know his way around the kitchen. He even knew how to get the water temperature just right for her. I crumpled the note into a ball and threw it into the tr4#&sh along with the plushie. The computer in the study was still on, and he was still logged into his acc0#unt. I sat down and scrolled through the posts one page at a time. In addition to taking Sophia to Iceland every September without fail, he had spent all those so-called weekends at work taking her to every Instagram-famous spot nearby. Two years ago, my favorite singer held a concert, and I bought two tickets, begging him to go with me. He said, "Places like that are crowded and loud. If I have that kind of time, I'd rather work a little longer." But according to the posts, he turned around and took Sophia to an outdoor music festival. In the vlog footage, he carried her bag, shielded her from the wind, and crouched down to tie her shoelaces. Meanwhile, for the past three years, every photo from our outings had been one I took myself, with the camera held out in front of us. He always looked impatient and said, "I don't have the eye for artsy photos. I can't get the effect you want, so this is good enough." Just then, Michael FaceTimed me. The familiar cabin under the northern lights flashed in the background. When he saw my red eyes, he actually frowned for once. "What happened? Were you crying?" My throat tightened, but I still shook my head. "The wind blew something into my eye." He seemed relieved, and his voice went flat and dismissive. "I'll be back tomorrow. I'll go with you to take the wedding photos." I was about to tell him I had already canceled it. Then Sophia suddenly squeezed into the frame with a smile and naturally linked her arm through Michael's. "Lily! I came to Iceland for vacation and happened to run into Michael on his business trip. You don't mind, do you?" Before I could speak, Michael turned his head and laughed. "What is she supposed to mind? Hurry up and show her the keychain." Sophia proudly held up a northern-lights keychain. "I picked this out especially for you!" I looked at that cheap tourist-trap gift and thought of the entryway drawer, where eight identical keychains were already sitting. All at once, I understood. This was her way of marking her territory in front of me. I did not answer her. I simply looked at the screen and spoke slowly. "Sure. When you two get back, I'll have a big gift ready for you too." The next day, Michael came home. His suitcase was packed with expensive supplements, skincare products, and premium teas. After digging through it for a long time, he finally pulled a keychain from one corner and tossed it to me. "Here. This is yours." I caught it on instinct, and the plastic edge dug painfully into my palm. I looked at the pile of beautifully wrapped gift boxes on the floor, my throat tightening. "And all of these?" "They're for Sophia's parents. They're not in great health, so they could use the boost." He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, without even looking up. "And the china set is for Sophia. She said the one at home was getting old, so I brought this back for her." I gripped the cheap d011#ar-store keychain in my hand, my fingers tightening around it little by little. For the past eight years, my parents had sent care packages from back home every now and then, but none of it had ever even registered with Michael. He could not even be bothered to offer a polite greeting, let alone prepare a gift for them. I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and looked at him. "I still want to take our wedding photos in Iceland. Can we?" He paused and frowned. "Didn't we already book an indoor shoot? Why are you insisting on dragging this all the way to Iceland? We're not kids anymore. Can you be practical about building a life together?" The corner of my mouth twitched, and my h34rt went completely cold. With me, it was always "be understanding" and "be practical." With Sophia, he gave her anything she wanted. Just as the air between us froze, the door opened. Mrs. Whitmore and Sophia came in, chatting and laughing. Mrs. Whitmore swept her gaze over the living room, and her brows immediately drew together. "Lily, I don't mean to be harsh, but you're supposed to be a designer. Why does this place look so dull? It has such a cheap, small-town feel." She looked at me without the slightest hint of courtesy. "The only reason you still have a place at the company is that Michael opened doors for you, isn't it? Without him, how exactly would you make it in New York City?" In the past, whenever I heard words like that, I swallowed my anger. And Michael would always stand off to the side and toss out the same careless sentence. "That's just how my m0m is. You're the younger one, so just let it go." But this time, I did not want to back down. "Since Mrs. Whitmore thinks it looks bad, how about I tear everything out and redecorate it according to your taste?" Mrs. Whitmore froze. Then the contempt in her eyes deepened. "You don't have much to show for yourself, but you sure have a temper." "Look at what Sophia did with the family estate. That is what warmth and class look like. When you have time, learn from her and stop embarrassing the Whitmores." Seeing this, Sophia immediately took off her coat and smiled as she tried to smooth things over. "Mrs. Whitmore, Lily isn't from New York. It's normal for her taste to be different." Then she turned to Michael with a playful pout. "Oh, Michael, I'm hungry. I'll cook today and let Lily try my cooking. Will you come be my sous-chef?" Michael lowered his head to look at her, his tone familiar and indulgent. "You're always ordering me around. What do you want to eat?" Sophia blinked at him. "I want that shrimp salad you make from scratch." The two of them walked into the kitchen as if I were not even there. Michael casually picked up an apron, lowered his head, and tied it around her waist. The gesture looked so natural that it hurt to watch, as if they were the married couple. Mrs. Whitmore sat down on the sofa and spoke in an unhurried voice. "Honestly, Michael should have married Sophia in the first place. They grew up together and know each other inside and out." "Lily, since you have no m0#n33y and no family backing, you should learn to know your place. You should count yourself lucky the Whitmores are even letting you marry into this family." Standing in the shadows, I suddenly smiled. It was fine. I would never fight for this again. At dinner, the three of them talked about elementary school stories I had never been part of and gossip from their social circle. I lowered my head and ate quietly, feeling like an outsider. Then I suddenly noticed a bright diamond ring on Sophia's left hand. On Michael's left ring finger, which had always been bare, there was now an identical men's version. It felt as if a sledgehammer had slammed into my ch3#st. That night, Michael stood beside the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. I stared at the ring and asked, "Those are matching couple's rings, aren't they? Michael, what is this supposed to mean?" He answered carelessly, "This? Sophia's birthday is coming up, and she kept saying she wanted to know what it felt like to wear a diamond ring. She pestered me into wearing it with her for a few days, just for fun." "It's just an accessory. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?" My ch3#st ached with pressure, and the emotions I had been holding back finally broke loose. "An accessory? Michael, I am your fiancée. You're wearing matching rings with another woman while discussing our wedding with me. What exactly do you take me for?" Michael's face darkened at once, and he yanked off his tie and threw it onto the bed. "Lily Hayes, are you ever going to stop?" "I added your name to the deed of the apartment so you could get established in New York, and you didn't have to pay a dime. Marrying me gives you a real foothold in New York." "Do you know how many people from outside the city would kill for the chance to stay here and still never get it? What more do you want?" He scoffed. "Sophia and I grew up together. What's wrong with wearing a ring for a few days to make her happy? Are you really that petty?" With that, Michael slammed the door and left. I stood frozen in place for a long time. Then a new notification suddenly popped up on my phone. That couple's acc0#unt had updated again. In the photo, their ringed hands were interlaced, both of them wearing the matching couple's rings. The caption read, [Making my little princess's birthday wish come true.] Suddenly, I laughed. Michael, you're right. This city really doesn't have a place for me.
My parents forgot me at home for three whole days. They took my sister on a family trip. They packed her clothes. They held her hand. They smiled in every photo. And me? I was locked inside that empty house like a mistake they did not want to remember. When they finally rushed back, they expected to find me crying, starving, or sick. Instead, I was clean. My hair was brushed. My cheeks were round. My little body looked better than before. My mother stared at me like she had seen a ghost. “Did you take care of yourself all these days?” I shook my head. “No. I stayed inside the mirror. There was another mommy and daddy in there. They took care of me.” Their guilt disappeared in one second. Then came their rage. “If you keep acting crazy, you don’t belong in this family.” That night, the mirror reached for me again. This time, I chose the home on the other side of the mirror. My parents were so obsessed with my older sister, Chloe Miller, that they never realized I had another family living inside the mirror. It wasn’t until they came back from a three-day vacation with Chloe that they finally remembered they had another daughter at home. But when they rushed through the front door in a panic, expecting to find me starving or neglected... Instead, they found me clean, well-fed, and healthier than ever. Mom stared at me in shock, guilt flashing across her face. “You... took care of yourself all these days?” I shook my head. “I stayed inside the mirror. The mom and dad in there took care of me.” For a split second, disbelief flickered across both their faces. Then came the explosion. “You know Chloe only became autistic because we had you!” Mom screamed. “She barely talks to anyone except her dolls, and now you’re copying her? Making up some ridiculous mirror story just to compete for attention?” Years of exhaustion and resentment finally erupted, and all of it came crashing down on me. They locked me inside my room. From the other side of the door, Mom’s voice cut through the darkness like a knife. “We’re already exhausted taking care of Chloe! We cannot look after two children who act strangely in this house. If you keep pretending to be crazy, then maybe you shouldn’t stay in this family at all!” Curled up in the corner, I cried so hard I could barely breathe. Then suddenly, a thin, withered hand reached out from the mirror and gently stroked my hair. “One more time,” the woman inside whispered softly. “If they abandon you again, Mommy will take you with us.” ... The moment my bedroom door opened, Mirror Mom crawled backward into the glass. My real mother stood silently in the doorway. “We have guests coming over soon,” she said flatly. “Come help downstairs.” I followed behind her carefully, afraid to fall out of step. She handed me a stack of plastic dessert plates, and my eyes immediately drifted toward the giant cake sitting in the middle of the dining table. “Hurry up and cut the cake,” Mom urged impatiently. Halfway through slicing it, I suddenly realized what day it was. Today was my birthday. So they did remember. My nose burned, and I quickly wiped my eyes before the tears could fall. For a moment, I remembered how things used to be before Chloe got sick. Back then, Mom and Dad were good to me too. Whenever they took Chloe shopping, they’d bring me pretty new clothes instead of forcing me to wear Chloe’s old hand-me-downs that never fit right. If I left with the family inside the mirror... Would they be sad? The fantasy shattered instantly. Mom clasped her hands together excitedly, her voice trembling with happiness. “Chloe finally called us Mom and Dad today. This is such a huge milestone! Once everyone gets here, maybe she’ll even talk to a few more people.” I froze. The smile slowly disappeared from my face. The doorbell rang. Relatives flooded into the house, surrounding Chloe like she was the center of the universe. “Chloe, I heard you’re talking now! Come on, sweetheart, say hi to Uncle Rick!” “And I’m Aunt Cheryl! Say my name and I’ll give you a huge present!” Under everyone’s eager attention, Chloe pressed her lips together nervously and twisted the hem of her dress without making a sound. Dad noticed the excitement in the room starting to fade and quickly shot me a look. Help your sister. I squeezed through the crowd and smiled brightly. “Hi, Uncle Rick! Hi, Uncle Wayne! Aunt Cheryl! Here, let me get everyone some cake!” The relatives laughed as they accepted their slices. “Lily’s such a sweetheart. That little mouth of hers could charm anyone.” “If I had a daughter this adorable and talkative, I’d brag about her nonstop.” Only Aunt Cheryl looked unimpressed. “Oh please,” she said loudly. “That’s not charm. She’s obviously attention-seeking. My son was already learning coding at her age. Who cares if she knows how to greet people? Showing off in front of her autistic sister like this is honestly pathetic.” Mom’s expression immediately darkened. “Lily,” she snapped, “for once can you stop making everything about yourself? Chloe finally started speaking and you still have to steal the spotlight?” Dad’s smile vanished too. “Quit trying to get attention with these little tricks.” When he noticed I’d gone completely silent, Uncle Rick smirked at me. “So tell me, Lily. Who taught you how to fight for attention at such a young age?” My lips trembled, and tears stung my eyes. Instinctively, I looked toward Mom and Dad. Their expressions shifted slightly, like they’d suddenly remembered all the things they used to force me to do. Ever since Chloe’s autism had gotten worse, they’d constantly pushed me to talk around her. Every single day, they made me sit beside her and chatter endlessly, hoping she’d eventually respond. Most of the time, I talked until my throat hurt. Chloe never reacted. Then Mom would break down crying and take all her frustration out on me. “Talk to your sister!” she’d scream, clutching her chest. “Say something! Keep talking! What’s the point of that mouth of yours if you won’t use it? Chloe’s always been so good to you, and all you ever do is upset her!” But Chloe’s version of being “good” to me was sneaking me candy even though everyone knew I couldn’t eat sugar. I was only three when it happened. My teeth rotted so badly from all the candy that I cried myself to sleep almost every night from the pain. In the end, all my baby teeth had to be pulled. Afterward, my parents still blamed me for it. Dad used to kneel in front of me with a serious expression and say, “The therapist said Chloe needs someone at home to guide her speech development and constantly reinforce positive communication. As her little sister, it’s your responsibility to help her. You need to set an example.” But I had tried so hard. I’d done everything they asked. So why were they still unhappy with me? Standing there under the pressure of everyone’s questioning stares, I twisted my fingers together helplessly, not knowing what to say. Then Dad suddenly handed me a bowl of strawberries. “Go sit somewhere and eat,” he muttered. “And stop talking so much.” I took the bowl carefully. The second I did, Chloe lunged forward, ripped it from my hands, and hurled it onto the floor. Strawberries exploded everywhere. Then she let out a piercing scream. Mom and Dad instantly went pale. Chloe was having another episode. Mom’s eyes reddened as she jabbed a finger against my forehead. “Lily Miller! Why are you always so greedy? Chloe hadn’t even touched the fruit yet and you were already helping yourself?” Her voice rose sharply. “You know Chloe struggles with security issues! Everything in this house has to prioritize her first!” I stared down at the ruined strawberries scattered across the floor, bitterness clogging my throat. Quietly, I crouched down and started picking them up one by one. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I won’t eat them anymore. Chloe can have all the strawberries.” Uncle Wayne frowned as he watched me. “Lily’s changed a lot,” he said slowly. “When she was three, nobody could take food away from her without a fight.” Hearing someone defend me made warmth bloom painfully inside my chest. Before I could stop myself, the truth slipped out. “Because the mom inside the mirror already gave me strawberries...” The second I saw my parents’ icy expressions, panic crashed over me. I quickly clamped both hands over my mouth and shook my head hard. Aunt Cheryl let out a cold laugh. “This kid really knows how to act. First she plays the victim, now she’s making up nonsense about a mom living in the mirror? What’s next? You gonna tell us you plan to move in there too?” I froze. How did Aunt Cheryl know the mirror family wanted to take me away? Mom noticed the fear on my face and started trembling with anger. “Lily,” she said through clenched teeth, “haven’t I taught you that good children don’t lie? Why are you embarrassing us in front of everyone with this ridiculous story? Tell them right now that the ‘mirror mom’ is fake.” Instinctively, my eyes drifted toward the hallway mirror outside my bedroom. The woman inside slowly poked her head out. Her hollow eyes locked onto mine. A strange smile stretched across her face. My voice came out small and shaky. “Mom... I’m not lying...” There really was another mother inside the mirror. But under my real mother’s furious stare, the rest of the sentence died in my throat. Uncle Wayne, who had secretly trained for years with the Templeton Foundation as an exorcist, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I don’t think Lily’s making this up,” he said carefully. “There might actually be something wrong with that mirror. Want me to check the house?” As he opened his bag and pulled out a quantum specter detector along with a silver cross engraved with mysterious symbols, Mom’s expression visibly tightened. Just as Uncle Wayne started to question me about the mirror... Chloe suddenly let out another ear-piercing scream. Chloe grabbed a sharp shard from the floor and hurt her own arm. Mom panicked instantly. She rushed over, wrapped Chloe in her arms, and stopped her before she could hurt herself again. Dad looked at me with heartbreak and disgust written all over his face. “So this was your plan?” he snapped coldly. “You lied about seeing Mom and Dad in the mirror just to make Chloe feel guilty enough to cut herself? We’ve loved and spoiled you your whole life, Lily. How did you turn out this cruel?” I shook my head violently, tears blurring my vision. “Dad, I wasn’t lying...” But he refused to hear me out. After quickly explaining the situation to our relatives, he and Mom rushed Chloe to the hospital. Once everyone left, I stood there alone in silence. I had tried so hard to be good. Why didn’t Mom and Dad believe me? Luckily, she was not badly hurt. But Mom and Dad still took turns staying beside her hospital bed, terrified she might hurt herself again. The only times I saw them were when they came home to cook for Chloe. And every single time I tried to get close to them, they instinctively pushed me away. “Lily, stop clinging to us,” Mom said sharply. “You already pushed Chloe into cutting her wrist. Do you want to keep pushing her until something terrible happens?” I shook my head, my chest aching with hurt. “Mom, I don’t even know why Chloe did that. I never wanted her to die.” Even when Chloe lost control and splashed me with hot water ... even when she cut my bangs with scissors... I had never hated her. Because deep down, I always believed her illness was my fault. If I had never been born, Chloe never would’ve gotten sick. Mom and Dad wouldn’t have had to spend every day miserable and exhausted. But hearing Mom say those things still hurt so much. Two days later, Chloe came home from the hospital. After she returned, she became much more lively than before. Besides calling for Mom and Dad, she even started speaking in short, simple sentences. Mom said Chloe finally spoke because she couldn’t bear seeing her cry so hard. But I had spent years trying to help Chloe talk, and she had never responded to me once. So why did she suddenly start talking the moment Mom cried? Holding the doll Mom from the mirror had given me, I quietly pushed open Chloe’s bedroom door. Inside, Mom and Dad sat beside her bed, gently comforting her. “From now on, you can focus on getting better at home,” Mom said softly. “No matter how much Lily tries competing for our attention, you’ll always be Mommy’s favorite.” Dad nodded immediately. “Same here. That’s why we ignored Lily these past few days. She needed to learn her lesson.” Chloe’s eyes reddened. “Don’t blame... Lily,” she said slowly. “She’s still little. Maybe... it would’ve been better if I didn’t exist...” Mom and Dad immediately looked heartbroken. Dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders and comforted her gently. “Sweetheart, don’t say things like that. You’ll always be our precious little girl.” Then his expression darkened. “As for Lily... she’s getting manipulative. Your Aunt Cheryl offered to take her for a while and straighten her out. Once you recover, we’ll bring her home.” The doll slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
My parents forgot me at home for three whole days. They took my sister on a family trip. They packed her clothes. They held her hand. They smiled in every photo. And me? I was locked inside that empty house like a mistake they did not want to remember. When they finally rushed back, they expected to find me crying, starving, or sick. Instead, I was clean. My hair was brushed. My cheeks were round. My little body looked better than before. My mother stared at me like she had seen a ghost. “Did you take care of yourself all these days?” I shook my head. “No. I stayed inside the mirror. There was another mommy and daddy in there. They took care of me.” Their guilt disappeared in one second. Then came their rage. “If you keep acting crazy, you don’t belong in this family.” That night, the mirror reached for me again. This time, I chose the home on the other side of the mirror. My parents were so obsessed with my older sister, Chloe Miller, that they never realized I had another family living inside the mirror. It wasn’t until they came back from a three-day vacation with Chloe that they finally remembered they had another daughter at home. But when they rushed through the front door in a panic, expecting to find me starving or neglected... Instead, they found me clean, well-fed, and healthier than ever. Mom stared at me in shock, guilt flashing across her face. “You... took care of yourself all these days?” I shook my head. “I stayed inside the mirror. The mom and dad in there took care of me.” For a split second, disbelief flickered across both their faces. Then came the explosion. “You know Chloe only became autistic because we had you!” Mom screamed. “She barely talks to anyone except her dolls, and now you’re copying her? Making up some ridiculous mirror story just to compete for attention?” Years of exhaustion and resentment finally erupted, and all of it came crashing down on me. They locked me inside my room. From the other side of the door, Mom’s voice cut through the darkness like a knife. “We’re already exhausted taking care of Chloe! We cannot look after two children who act strangely in this house. If you keep pretending to be crazy, then maybe you shouldn’t stay in this family at all!” Curled up in the corner, I cried so hard I could barely breathe. Then suddenly, a thin, withered hand reached out from the mirror and gently stroked my hair. “One more time,” the woman inside whispered softly. “If they abandon you again, Mommy will take you with us.” ... The moment my bedroom door opened, Mirror Mom crawled backward into the glass. My real mother stood silently in the doorway. “We have guests coming over soon,” she said flatly. “Come help downstairs.” I followed behind her carefully, afraid to fall out of step. She handed me a stack of plastic dessert plates, and my eyes immediately drifted toward the giant cake sitting in the middle of the dining table. “Hurry up and cut the cake,” Mom urged impatiently. Halfway through slicing it, I suddenly realized what day it was. Today was my birthday. So they did remember. My nose burned, and I quickly wiped my eyes before the tears could fall. For a moment, I remembered how things used to be before Chloe got sick. Back then, Mom and Dad were good to me too. Whenever they took Chloe shopping, they’d bring me pretty new clothes instead of forcing me to wear Chloe’s old hand-me-downs that never fit right. If I left with the family inside the mirror... Would they be sad? The fantasy shattered instantly. Mom clasped her hands together excitedly, her voice trembling with happiness. “Chloe finally called us Mom and Dad today. This is such a huge milestone! Once everyone gets here, maybe she’ll even talk to a few more people.” I froze. The smile slowly disappeared from my face. The doorbell rang. Relatives flooded into the house, surrounding Chloe like she was the center of the universe. “Chloe, I heard you’re talking now! Come on, sweetheart, say hi to Uncle Rick!” “And I’m Aunt Cheryl! Say my name and I’ll give you a huge present!” Under everyone’s eager attention, Chloe pressed her lips together nervously and twisted the hem of her dress without making a sound. Dad noticed the excitement in the room starting to fade and quickly shot me a look. Help your sister. I squeezed through the crowd and smiled brightly. “Hi, Uncle Rick! Hi, Uncle Wayne! Aunt Cheryl! Here, let me get everyone some cake!” The relatives laughed as they accepted their slices. “Lily’s such a sweetheart. That little mouth of hers could charm anyone.” “If I had a daughter this adorable and talkative, I’d brag about her nonstop.” Only Aunt Cheryl looked unimpressed. “Oh please,” she said loudly. “That’s not charm. She’s obviously attention-seeking. My son was already learning coding at her age. Who cares if she knows how to greet people? Showing off in front of her autistic sister like this is honestly pathetic.” Mom’s expression immediately darkened. “Lily,” she snapped, “for once can you stop making everything about yourself? Chloe finally started speaking and you still have to steal the spotlight?” Dad’s smile vanished too. “Quit trying to get attention with these little tricks.” When he noticed I’d gone completely silent, Uncle Rick smirked at me. “So tell me, Lily. Who taught you how to fight for attention at such a young age?” My lips trembled, and tears stung my eyes. Instinctively, I looked toward Mom and Dad. Their expressions shifted slightly, like they’d suddenly remembered all the things they used to force me to do. Ever since Chloe’s autism had gotten worse, they’d constantly pushed me to talk around her. Every single day, they made me sit beside her and chatter endlessly, hoping she’d eventually respond. Most of the time, I talked until my throat hurt. Chloe never reacted. Then Mom would break down crying and take all her frustration out on me. “Talk to your sister!” she’d scream, clutching her chest. “Say something! Keep talking! What’s the point of that mouth of yours if you won’t use it? Chloe’s always been so good to you, and all you ever do is upset her!” But Chloe’s version of being “good” to me was sneaking me candy even though everyone knew I couldn’t eat sugar. I was only three when it happened. My teeth rotted so badly from all the candy that I cried myself to sleep almost every night from the pain. In the end, all my baby teeth had to be pulled. Afterward, my parents still blamed me for it. Dad used to kneel in front of me with a serious expression and say, “The therapist said Chloe needs someone at home to guide her speech development and constantly reinforce positive communication. As her little sister, it’s your responsibility to help her. You need to set an example.” But I had tried so hard. I’d done everything they asked. So why were they still unhappy with me? Standing there under the pressure of everyone’s questioning stares, I twisted my fingers together helplessly, not knowing what to say. Then Dad suddenly handed me a bowl of strawberries. “Go sit somewhere and eat,” he muttered. “And stop talking so much.” I took the bowl carefully. The second I did, Chloe lunged forward, ripped it from my hands, and hurled it onto the floor. Strawberries exploded everywhere. Then she let out a piercing scream. Mom and Dad instantly went pale. Chloe was having another episode. Mom’s eyes reddened as she jabbed a finger against my forehead. “Lily Miller! Why are you always so greedy? Chloe hadn’t even touched the fruit yet and you were already helping yourself?” Her voice rose sharply. “You know Chloe struggles with security issues! Everything in this house has to prioritize her first!” I stared down at the ruined strawberries scattered across the floor, bitterness clogging my throat. Quietly, I crouched down and started picking them up one by one. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I won’t eat them anymore. Chloe can have all the strawberries.” Uncle Wayne frowned as he watched me. “Lily’s changed a lot,” he said slowly. “When she was three, nobody could take food away from her without a fight.” Hearing someone defend me made warmth bloom painfully inside my chest. Before I could stop myself, the truth slipped out. “Because the mom inside the mirror already gave me strawberries...” The second I saw my parents’ icy expressions, panic crashed over me. I quickly clamped both hands over my mouth and shook my head hard. Aunt Cheryl let out a cold laugh. “This kid really knows how to act. First she plays the victim, now she’s making up nonsense about a mom living in the mirror? What’s next? You gonna tell us you plan to move in there too?” I froze. How did Aunt Cheryl know the mirror family wanted to take me away? Mom noticed the fear on my face and started trembling with anger. “Lily,” she said through clenched teeth, “haven’t I taught you that good children don’t lie? Why are you embarrassing us in front of everyone with this ridiculous story? Tell them right now that the ‘mirror mom’ is fake.” Instinctively, my eyes drifted toward the hallway mirror outside my bedroom. The woman inside slowly poked her head out. Her hollow eyes locked onto mine. A strange smile stretched across her face. My voice came out small and shaky. “Mom... I’m not lying...” There really was another mother inside the mirror. But under my real mother’s furious stare, the rest of the sentence died in my throat. Uncle Wayne, who had secretly trained for years with the Templeton Foundation as an exorcist, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I don’t think Lily’s making this up,” he said carefully. “There might actually be something wrong with that mirror. Want me to check the house?” As he opened his bag and pulled out a quantum specter detector along with a silver cross engraved with mysterious symbols, Mom’s expression visibly tightened. Just as Uncle Wayne started to question me about the mirror... Chloe suddenly let out another ear-piercing scream. Chloe grabbed a sharp shard from the floor and hurt her own arm. Mom panicked instantly. She rushed over, wrapped Chloe in her arms, and stopped her before she could hurt herself again. Dad looked at me with heartbreak and disgust written all over his face. “So this was your plan?” he snapped coldly. “You lied about seeing Mom and Dad in the mirror just to make Chloe feel guilty enough to cut herself? We’ve loved and spoiled you your whole life, Lily. How did you turn out this cruel?” I shook my head violently, tears blurring my vision. “Dad, I wasn’t lying...” But he refused to hear me out. After quickly explaining the situation to our relatives, he and Mom rushed Chloe to the hospital. Once everyone left, I stood there alone in silence. I had tried so hard to be good. Why didn’t Mom and Dad believe me? Luckily, she was not badly hurt. But Mom and Dad still took turns staying beside her hospital bed, terrified she might hurt herself again. The only times I saw them were when they came home to cook for Chloe. And every single time I tried to get close to them, they instinctively pushed me away. “Lily, stop clinging to us,” Mom said sharply. “You already pushed Chloe into cutting her wrist. Do you want to keep pushing her until something terrible happens?” I shook my head, my chest aching with hurt. “Mom, I don’t even know why Chloe did that. I never wanted her to die.” Even when Chloe lost control and splashed me with hot water ... even when she cut my bangs with scissors... I had never hated her. Because deep down, I always believed her illness was my fault. If I had never been born, Chloe never would’ve gotten sick. Mom and Dad wouldn’t have had to spend every day miserable and exhausted. But hearing Mom say those things still hurt so much. Two days later, Chloe came home from the hospital. After she returned, she became much more lively than before. Besides calling for Mom and Dad, she even started speaking in short, simple sentences. Mom said Chloe finally spoke because she couldn’t bear seeing her cry so hard. But I had spent years trying to help Chloe talk, and she had never responded to me once. So why did she suddenly start talking the moment Mom cried? Holding the doll Mom from the mirror had given me, I quietly pushed open Chloe’s bedroom door. Inside, Mom and Dad sat beside her bed, gently comforting her. “From now on, you can focus on getting better at home,” Mom said softly. “No matter how much Lily tries competing for our attention, you’ll always be Mommy’s favorite.” Dad nodded immediately. “Same here. That’s why we ignored Lily these past few days. She needed to learn her lesson.” Chloe’s eyes reddened. “Don’t blame... Lily,” she said slowly. “She’s still little. Maybe... it would’ve been better if I didn’t exist...” Mom and Dad immediately looked heartbroken. Dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders and comforted her gently. “Sweetheart, don’t say things like that. You’ll always be our precious little girl.” Then his expression darkened. “As for Lily... she’s getting manipulative. Your Aunt Cheryl offered to take her for a while and straighten her out. Once you recover, we’ll bring her home.” The doll slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
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