My grandmother's antique mirror. It's been a long standing tradition to pass the mirror down to the eldest daughter. Yet I, as the only daughter of five from my dad, received the mirror at my undergrad graduation.

I thought it was a sweet gesture, though a little odd, since she had three granddaughters much older than me.

However, she never explained the origin or importance of the mirror. Just told me to hang it on my bedroom wall and not to remove it. Even since then it would shock me if I was to move it.

The mirror has a very old feel, with its carved wooden frame and intricate scrollwork done by my grandmother's grandfather. The mirror itself is beautiful, with its large oval shape and smooth, silvery surface. But the thing that makes it truly unique is the strange, hypnotic red hue that emanates from the center when I'm alone.

It became worse after my break up two weeks ago and moving into my new apartment. I've tried everything to make it go away, but nothing has worked. And now, the nightmares have begun in the reflection of the mirror.

In the reflection, the man's face is a blur, but his body is always clear and defined. Every time he looks up and smiles at me, a chill runs down my spine. His green eyes are so piercing and mesmerizing, I can't look away.

The night two weeks ago before my life shattered, I found myself standing in front of the mirror. A woman on the precipice of change. My dreads cascaded down my back, a waterfall of ebony, freshly curled. My friend Cleo did my makeup for the night. It gave me a soft natural glow with gold. My anticipation swelled as I prepared for my anniversary date with Charles. After four years of being together, I believe this is the night he'll propose.

He has the perfect romantic setup for the dinner, a nice quiet spot overlooking the Chicago river. We were both so happy. I had no reason not to trust him.

Until I heard his phone vibrate during the dinner, I picked it up since Charles excused himself to the restroom. A message appeared on the screen.

Monika: Can't wait to see you.

Charles was my boyfriend of four years and was everything to me. We were both so happy and planned to start a family once he got the promotion to lead architect. Yet these messages got flither the more I scrolled, my eyes burned at the nudes, the videos, the messages. Their relationship went beyond just a workplace fling. The "I love you's" made me want to throw up.

I quickly slipped the back under his table napkin and told a deep calming breath.

"Are you okay, babe?" Charles asked, concern etched across his handsome features when he returned to his seat.

"Of course," I replied, forcing a smile as I met his gaze. My heart ached. Maybe we can fix this. But the fuse on my anger was lit.

As dinner was served, we shared an affectionate moment, our fingers entwined and eyes locked – a silent vow of devotion. The weight of the evening hung heavy in the air, the future uncertain yet full of promise.

"Whatever happens, Charles Mitchell," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the murmur of the restaurant, "I'll always remember tonight."

"Me too," he replied, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Always."

And with that, we delved into our meal, savoring each bite, each glance, each touch as the world around us seemed to dissolve into the background. For now, we were suspended in time, caught between the past and the unknown future that loomed before us like a storm on the horizon.

The clink of silverware against porcelain filled the air, mingling with the low hum of convJulianation from the other patrons. Each bite was a symphony of flavors, a tangible reminder of the life Charles and I shared together – but my stomach churned with unease. A storm was brewing just beneath the surface, one that threatened to uproot everything we held dear.

The pause was suffocating.

"Charles..." I started, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, darling?" He said, his attention shifting from his plate to my face.

"There's something you need to tell me."

His eyebrows furrowed together as his mouth twisted into a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Why did Monika, your coworker, text you? Why was she asking when you'd be home and that she'd wait for you?"

I saw a glimpse of fear flash in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.

"She was probably just asking about work stuff. There is an important project we are --"

My fuse shortens. I had enough.

"Really, Charles, an important project after work hour and during our anniversary dinner. When did you two start fucking?"

"Who told you that bullshit?"

"Why else would she be texting you like a lovesick puppy while we're at our anniversary dinner? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to embarrass me?"

"How dare you accuse me of sleeping around with my coworkers, Juliana! Keep your voice down." He hissed at me as we drew attention.

I didn't care. I was fuming and hurt. I couldn't even look at him.

"Answer the fucking question, Charles."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied defiantly.

Anger surged within me, an inferno that flickered alongside my sorrow. My hands curled into fists with the effort of holding back the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to consume me.

"Not even an apology ?" I choked out a laugh, each word a dagger coated in poison.

"Juliana, your voice."

"No- Shut up. You don't get to tell me how to react to this! You fucking cheating bastard!"

"Please, please," he begged, his voice a low murmur. "Keep your voice down. We can talk about this."

"There's nothing left to talk about," I snapped, the word tasting like bile in my mouth. "One week, I'll be moved out. But after that, Charles, you're dead to me. You can be burning in hell for all I care."

As the reality of my words settled over us, a heavy silence descended upon our table. I looked away, unable to bear the sight of the man who had betrayed me, the man I had loved with every fiber of my being. And as the storm within me raged on, I knew that my life would never be the same again.

A single tear, hot and bitter, escaped my lashes, carving a path down my cheek. My untouched plate of food sat before me, the once-steaming dish now cold and lifeless. A nauseating reflection of our love. I couldn't eat anymore. I stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor, the sound echoing in the stark silence.

"Juliana, no! Please don't go. Sit and let me explain," Charles cried, his voice thick with emotion.

I stared at him, but I was done listening. My heart was broken, and there was no way to repair the damage. "You've done enough, Charles."

He swallowed hard, nodding in acquiescence, though his face still held that desperate hope that I might somehow change my mind. Foolish man. He didn't understand – I was already gone.

With measured steps, I walked away from the table, my heels clicking ominously against the cold tile floor. That steady rhythm, drumming out the seconds until my life shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces.

As I reached the door, I could feel his gaze on my back, burning like a brand. The urge to turn around, to look at him one last time, threatened to overwhelm me. But I refused to give in, refused to let him see the pain that tore at my soul.

The night was supposed to end with an engagement ring, instead I ended the night single and packing up my home of four years.

With a shaky hand, I turned the doorknob and stepped into the frigid air. The tears finally came, flowing freely down my cheeks as I rushed towards the sanctuary of my car.

The sound of my own heart shattering was deafening.

****

The wind whipped around me as I stepped out onto the street, a cruel reminder of the emptiness within me. As I glanced up, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window, a ghostly silhouette of the woman I once was. In a moment, she was gone, replaced by the shell of a person who had lost everything. And as the tears flowed freely, I realized that my life had irrevocably changed, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

I huddled into my coat and shuffled down the street to the L. I didn't know where I was going, but I needed to get as far away from Charles as possible. In a haze of tears, I found myself in a sparsely populated car on the L. As it rocked back and forth, I tried to gather myself. I hated crying in public. But the tears kept flowing, an endless river of pain and grief that refused to be ignored.

As the train screeched to a halt, I tried desperately to muffle my sobs with trembling hands. A heavy scent of sandalwood and old leather filled my nostrils; a cloying aroma that seemed like an omen of something sinister.

I didn't need to look around to see the man towering over me. His gaze was cold and calculating yet it held me there; so much power lay within his stare that I could not move even if I wanted to. He seemed to be consuming me whole, and I felt frozen in his presence - too afraid to break away from his hypnotic gaze. He drank in my tears and silence sobs, willing me to stay put with an invisible force that suffocated me.

My feeling oscillated between gratefulness and terror, but he pulled up his hood after what felt like an eternity and left at the next stop. His entire presence lingered long after he had gone, silence reigning in his absence as if he left me in a bubble. I could not tell if I wanted to thank him or run away in terror.

When the train pulled into my station, I stumbled out, still shaken by the encounter. But as I stepped off the L, I knew that I couldn't go home. But I had too. I didn't want to pack up my things but I needed to. I didn't know where else to go.

So, I walked down the street towards my apartment, dreading every step. But as I approached my building, I dreaded Charles seeing me like this. What was I to do? I dug deep and grabbed onto my anger. It was all I had left.

I entered the building only to find the elevator was out of order. I begrudgingly took the stairs, my legs trembling with every step. Each step heavy with the weight of my broken heart.

As I reached our floor, I noticed that Charles wasn't waiting for me as he usually did. Why would he? He was probably balls deep in his Monika at the moment. The thought made me sick.

As I entered our apartment, I was met by the silence of betrayal. I wandered from room to room, numb to the pain. It was as though I was an outsider in my own home, a stranger in a strange land.

I collapsed onto the couch, feeling an overwhelming sense of defeat. The weight of everything that had transpired crashed down on me, each blow resonating through my bones. I couldn't bear to stay in this place any longer, surrounded by memories tainted with lies and betrayal.

With trembling hands, I reached for a notepad lying on the coffee table and began scribbling down a list of things I needed to do. It wasn't just about packing up my belongings; it was about reclaiming my life. I needed to find a new place to call home, away from the ghosts of our shattered love.

As the ink stained the pages, determination nestled within me like a flickering flame. It fueled my every action, pushing aside the pain and replacing it with a burning desire for justice. Charles may have shattered my heart, but I refused to let him break me completely.

Hours turned into several days as I meticulously sorted through our shared belongings, calling around to find a vacant apartment near my job, separating what was mine from what was ours financially. Each item held its own story, but now they only served as painful reminders of what once was. As I packed them away one by one, closure started to seep into the cracks of my wounded soul.

My fingertips grazed the edges of the cardboard boxes as I sealed them shut, feeling a mix of sadness and resolve with each closure. As I finished the last box, I stepped back to survey the once-familiar space, now sparsely decorated and still.

The morning sun streamed in through the windows, illuminating the marks on the wall where pictures had hung—small reminders of a past that I was determined to leave behind. In one hand, I carried an old shoebox filled with my most precious belongings; in another, an envelope of memories that no longer felt like mine.

With a final glance around the room, I took a deep breath before turning towards the door where the movers were waiting.The time had come to start a new chapter, and I was ready to give it my all.

Then the mirror decided to show me a reflection that wasn't my own on the first night in my new apartment.

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