There's a silence some houses have after midnight. Not the sleepy kind. The listening kind.
That's the silence this house carried as I wandered its halls in my bare feet, half-hoping to find nothing, fully expecting I wouldn't be so lucky.
The mirrors were behaving strangely tonight.
Every hallway had one. And every reflection was wrong.
One showed me in a white dress I had never worn.
Another — with blood on my cheek.
A third — asleep. In a coffin.
But the worst one?
The one right outside the bedroom door.
It showed me, staring back… with a smile.
A smile I wasn't wearing.
I stepped closer.
The reflection tilted her head.
So did I.
Then she raised her hand and knocked on the glass.
I didn't.
I took a step back.
She didn't.
She just kept smiling. A mirror of me, but without the weight in her eyes. She looked lighter. Happier. Prettier, even. And that smile—
That smile didn't belong on my face.
The glass didn't crack.
It opened.
Like a door.
And she stepped through.
—
I froze.
So did she.
Two Alyas standing in the corridor, one with a pulse and one who shouldn't exist.
"Hi," she said.
Her voice was mine. Just a little brighter. A little braver.
"Who are you?" I asked, already knowing.
She shrugged. "You, obviously. Just... edited."
"You're not real."
She reached out and touched the wall. Her fingers left faint frost marks.
"Neither is this house. But that hasn't stopped it from chewing girls like us and spitting out prettier versions."
She smiled again.
That smile made my stomach twist. It was almost mine. Just... practiced.
"You're the one it wants," I whispered.
She nodded. "Of course. You think the house wants the sad girl with broken dreams? No. It wants the version who said yes to everything. The one who doesn't break when the mirror lies."
"I don't break either."
"You do. You just do it quietly."
She started walking down the hallway, barefoot, humming softly.
Her steps didn't make sound.
---
At breakfast, Aaryan didn't say anything about her.
But he didn't blink once during the entire meal.
His tea sat untouched.
Finally, I snapped. "Did you see her?"
He didn't look up. "I see all versions."
"And you let them walk?"
"No," he said. "They walk when you invite them."
"I didn't invite her."
"You didn't close the door, either."
That shut me up.
He finally looked at me then. "She's here to tempt the house. If it believes you're not strong enough, it'll choose her. And you'll start to fade."
I scoffed. "What is this, some fairy tale?"
He leaned closer, voice low and sharp.
"This is a survival tale. You just haven't realized you're the prey."
---
The rest of the day was warped.
Time skipped. Windows blinked out. The sky outside turned black even before evening fell.
The other me — Mirror Alya — was everywhere.
In the library, brushing her hair.
In the kitchen, cooking meals I never learned.
In the drawing room, laughing with people who only whispered with me.
Even the staff preferred her.
Sima bowed when she passed. Never once looked at me the same way.
It was like watching my life, upgraded and stolen.
At one point, I caught her looking at herself in a mirror and whispering:
> "If she shatters, I get to stay."
---
That night, I locked my room.
Bolted it. Drew salt lines. Burned sage. Did everything I remembered from childhood rituals my grandmother used to teach me.
At 2:17 AM, I heard her voice outside my door.
"Alya," she said sweetly.
"Go away," I whispered.
"I wore your dress."
I said nothing.
"I kissed him."
My chest tightened.
"I liked it."
Then silence.
Then knocking.
Gentle.
Gentle.
Gentle.
Until—
Slam.
The door cracked. A fracture ran across it like a frozen spiderweb.
She laughed once. Soft. Wicked.
Then it was quiet again.
---
In the morning, my mirror showed only her.
Not me.
Not a trace of the girl I used to be.
She wore my face.
And she laughed.
—