The Reflection

Don't You Love Me?

The warmth and enchantment I felt from embracing my newfound path as a witch carried me through the days with a sense of empowerment. But, as with all things, the joy was not without its complications. My relationship with Ethan, my boyfriend, had been a source of comfort through many dark times, but lately, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His words were sweet, his actions kind, yet there was a lingering doubt in my heart that I couldn't explain.

Ethan had always been attentive, but as I became more involved with my rituals and studies, I noticed subtle changes. He seemed distracted at times, his affection less genuine, and his words... somehow hollow. The doubt gnawed at me, growing more insistent with each passing day. I needed to know the truth—whether his love was real or just an illusion I had clung to out of fear of being alone.

In the back of my mind, I recalled a love spell I had come across while studying one of the older grimoires. It was a simple yet powerful ritual designed to reveal the true nature of one's lover's feelings. It was risky—using magic to meddle in matters of the heart always was—but I needed clarity, even if the truth was painful.

I gathered the ingredients with a sense of purpose. Each item had its own significance, carefully chosen to weave a spell of truth. The DNA, a tangible piece of both of us, would serve as the foundation of the ritual. I found a strand of Ethan's hair on the back of his chair and carefully placed it alongside one of my own, feeling a strange sense of intimacy in the act. Next, I retrieved a feather from the garden—light and delicate, it symbolized the fragility of love.

With everything in place, I began the ritual in the privacy of my room, drawing the pentagram with the precision I had learned through practice. The envelope lay open on the floor, the paper heart resting beside it, and the lipstick—a bright, deep red—sat nearby. I closed my eyes, steadying my breath, and then carefully placed the DNA and the feather inside the envelope.

Taking a deep breath, I began the chant, each repetition feeling like a test of my resolve.

"My love is true, so are you," I whispered, the words filling the room with a soft, eerie resonance. I repeated the phrase ten times, each one tinged with the hope and fear that had been building within me. By the final chant, my voice was trembling, but I forced myself to continue.

I hesitated for a moment, then took the paper heart and stuck it onto the envelope, pressing it down with a firm hand. Finally, I uncapped the lipstick and applied it to my lips, the familiar scent mingling with the faint aroma of the candles I had lit earlier. The ritual required patience—eight days of waiting, letting the magic work its way through the layers of truth and illusion.

The days dragged on, each one filled with a mixture of anticipation and dread. I found myself constantly glancing at the envelope, resisting the urge to check it prematurely. Ethan, oblivious to the spell, continued to act as if nothing had changed, but I found myself scrutinizing his every word, every gesture, looking for signs of insincerity.

By the time the ninth day arrived, my nerves were frayed. I sat down in front of the envelope, heart pounding, and slowly reached for it. The room was silent, save for the sound of my breath as I carefully lifted the envelope, examining it with trembling hands.

The moment of truth was at hand.

I held my breath as I peeled back the flap, my eyes immediately darting to the paper heart. To my relief, it seemed intact, unmarred by wrinkles or damage. A small smile tugged at my lips, but I wasn't finished yet. I lifted the envelope closer, looking for any sign that the lipstick had faded.

My heart sank. The lipstick—once vibrant and bold—was now almost completely gone, leaving only a faint, barely noticeable stain where it had once been. It was as if it had been wiped away, erasing the very essence of my presence.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the meaning of the spell hit me like a tidal wave. The heart was fine, yes—but that was only a reflection of my own feelings. The fading lipstick told a different story, a painful truth I had been dreading: Ethan didn't truly love me. His affection had waned, his feelings for me had faded just as the lipstick had.

The spell had worked. It had revealed the truth I needed to see, but that didn't make it any less devastating. I sat there, staring at the envelope in my hands, feeling a mix of sadness, betrayal, and a strange sense of relief. At least now I knew. The uncertainty was gone, replaced by a painful clarity that cut through the fog of doubt.

That night, I confronted Ethan. I didn't tell him about the spell—there were some things better left unsaid—but I did ask him directly about his feelings. He hesitated, stumbling over his words, and in that moment, I knew. The spell hadn't just been a trick of magic—it had uncovered the truth that had been lying just beneath the surface all along.

The relationship ended that night. It was a difficult conversation, filled with tears and apologies, but in the end, we both knew it was the right decision. I had loved Ethan, and perhaps a part of me always would, but I couldn't hold onto a love that wasn't true

As I sat alone in my room afterward, the envelope still on the floor beside me, I felt a deep sense of loss. But beneath the sadness, there was also a growing sense of empowerment. I had sought the truth, and though it had hurt, it had also freed me. I was no longer bound by doubt or uncertainty—I could move forward, knowing that I had the strength to face whatever came next.

And so, with the remnants of the spell still fresh in my mind, I began the process of healing. The journey ahead was uncertain, but I had already faced my own shadows and come out stronger. This, too, was just another step on the path I had chosen.

As I prepared for bed, I took one last look at the envelope and the faded lipstick. I smiled softly, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the love that had been and the future that awaited. Then, with a deep breath, I blew out the candles and let the darkness embrace me, knowing that I would find my way through it—one step at a time.