The hand pushing through the mirror did not shatter the glass.
It melted through it.
Mina stumbled backward, her breath trapped in her chest. The figure stepping out looked exactly like her—same face, same scar near the eyebrow—but her eyes were hollow, as if they had seen something beyond fear.
"Youfinally remembered," the other Mina whispered.
Fragments burst inside Mina's mind—flashes of this house years ago, the hidden chamber, the whispers. A girl crying. A scream. A push.
The other Mina stepped closer.
"Youlocked me away."
Suddenly, the walls trembled. The hidden door behind the wardrobe creaked open by itself. Papers flew into the air, swirling around the room like trapped birds.
"Youcouldn't live withwhat youdid," the double continued calmly. "Soyou split me off. Youburried thememory.You created anew life. A newbeginning."
Mina clutched her head. "No… Ididn't…"
But she had.
Years ago, before shifting cities, she had been best friends with a lonely girl named Alia. Alia knew about Mina's dark moods, the way she sometimes heard voices. One night, during an argument inside this very house, Mina had pushed Alia in anger.
Tara had fallen down the basement stairs.
Silence.
No one had believed Mina when she said it was an accident. Her parents had moved away. Therapy had followed. And slowly, Mina's mind had erased Aliaa… and the part of herself that carried the guilt.
Until now.
"You are the guilt," Mina whispered.
"I am the truth," the double replied.
The clock blinked 3:03 a.m. again.
Suddenly, Aarush burst into the room. "Didi!Who are you talking with to?"
The double vanished.
The mirror was whole again.
But something had changed.
Mina felt… lighter.
Downstairs, her parents were waiting. Their faces pale.
"We need tell you something," her father said shakily. "We never moved back to this house."
Mina frowned. "But we'rehere."
Her mother began to cry.
"You've been in Ashokvan Mental Care Facility for the past three years."
The room spun.
"Thishouse," her father continued, "is only inyourmind. The doctors said facing the memory was the only you could come back."
A nurse gently entered the room—but it was not a bedroom anymore.
It was a hospital ward.
The walls were white.
The window had bars.
The clock read 3:04 a.m.
Mina looked into the reflection of the dark window glass.
Only one face stared back.
She smiled faintly.
But as the nurse adjusted her blanket, she froze.
Because in the glass—just behind Mina's shoulder—
Another smile appeared.
And this time, it wasn't hers.
To be continued?.....