Aarav had always been fascinated by mirrors. As a child, he would stare into them for hours, wondering if the reflection was truly his or just an illusion pretending to be him. His grandmother had once warned him, "Never trust a mirror completely. Sometimes, it shows more than just your reflection." He had laughed it off back then.
Years passed, and Aarav, now a struggling artist, moved into an old apartment that came with an antique, full-length mirror. It was tall, its frame carved with eerie, intricate patterns. Something about it made him uneasy, but he kept it—it was the only thing that made his barren walls look less lonely.
One night, while painting, he glanced at the mirror and froze. His reflection… blinked a second later than he did. His heart pounded. Maybe he was just tired.
Days went by, and the mirror started acting strangely. Sometimes, his reflection would move when he wasn’t. Other times, it smiled when he wasn’t smiling. It whispered things he couldn't understand, its lips moving in slow, haunting motions. But the worst part? It seemed to know things about him—things he had buried deep in his past.
Then, one fateful night, the reflection spoke aloud.
"You don’t deserve to be here, Aarav."
He stumbled back. "W-What?"
His reflection tilted its head. "You live like a shadow, hiding in failures, drowning in regrets. Do you even exist outside this room?"
Aarav felt his throat tighten. He had been struggling—his dreams crushed, relationships broken, his life reduced to isolation.
The reflection chuckled darkly. "Let me live instead. You don’t need this life anymore."
Before he could react, the reflection reached out. Cold fingers gripped his wrist, pulling him towards the mirror. He screamed, fought back, but his body was weak, exhausted from sleepless nights and years of self-hatred. The mirror’s surface rippled like water as he was dragged inside.
Aarav found himself trapped in an endless void, his screams unheard. From inside, he saw his reflection—no, his replacement—smirking at him before turning away. The new Aarav stepped out of the mirror, stretched his arms, and smiled.
No one noticed the switch. No one ever does.
Days later, the "new" Aarav thrived. He was confident, charming, and successful. But something felt off about him—his smile was a little too perfect, his gaze a little too hollow. His friends, though initially happy for him, soon found themselves uncomfortable around him.
One by one, they disappeared.
The truth is harsh—Aarav was never meant to succeed. The world didn’t care about the quiet, broken man. But the reflection? It knew how to play the game of life better.
And the real Aarav? He still watches from the mirror, screaming, forgotten.
Tough Truth:
Sometimes, people only notice you when you change—when you become someone they want you to be. And if you don’t? You’re invisible.
