Chapter 3 — The Mirror

I didn’t notice it right away.

It started as a feeling, vague and uncomfortable, like standing too close to the edge of something without realizing how far the drop was. I told myself it was just lingering thoughts from class, from Sora, from the way his name had almost slipped away.

I tried not to think about it.

In the hallway, students moved around me in loose clusters, their voices overlapping and fading as they passed. Lockers slammed shut. Someone laughed behind me. The usual noise filled the space, familiar and loud enough to hide inside.

I walked toward the stairwell, keeping my head down.

Halfway there, someone bumped into my shoulder.

It wasn’t hard. Just enough to throw off my balance for a moment.

“Sorry,” I started to say.

The word hung in the air, unanswered.

The student didn’t look back. They didn’t slow down. They kept walking as if nothing had happened—as if they hadn’t noticed me at all.

I stood there for a second, my hand still half-raised.

It wasn’t anger I felt. Or embarrassment.

It was confusion.

I reached the restroom near the stairs and pushed the door open. The lights flickered briefly before settling into a dull, steady glow. The room was empty.

I stepped up to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror.

At first, everything seemed normal.

Same uniform. Same tired eyes. Same expression that never quite showed what I was thinking. I leaned closer, studying my reflection out of habit, like I was checking to make sure I was still there.

Then I moved.

My reflection didn’t.

Not immediately.

It lagged behind by the smallest fraction of a second—so brief I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it. I tilted my head to the side.

A moment passed.

Then the reflection followed.

My breath caught in my throat.

I stepped back, heart beating faster now, and waved my hand in front of the glass. This time, the delay was clearer. Subtle, but unmistakable. Like the mirror needed extra time to remember me.

“No,” I whispered.

The word sounded too loud in the empty room.

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again.

The reflection matched me perfectly now.

I let out a slow breath and laughed under my breath, shaky and forced. Mirrors did that sometimes, didn’t they? Bad lighting. Old glass. Tired eyes playing tricks.

That was all.

I turned away from the sink, eager to leave the room and forget the whole thing.

As I reached for the door, I caught my reflection one last time in the corner of my vision.

For just a moment, it looked thinner. Fainter. Like someone had turned the contrast down slightly and forgotten to turn it back up.

I didn’t look again.

I walked out into the hallway, my steps quickening, my thoughts racing despite my efforts to keep them calm. Around me, students passed by, solid and loud and unmistakably present.

I felt different.

Lighter.

And no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, one thought pressed itself to the front of my mind, heavy and impossible to ignore.

This wasn’t normal.