The next morning, I woke up with a heavy head, my mind hazy from the events of yesterday. Was it real, or just some weird dream? I sat up slowly, looking around my room. Everything seemed normal. Maybe I had just imagined it. Yawning, I stretched and got out of bed, dragging myself to the bathroom to freshen up.
In the bathroom, I looked at the mirror. Last night, I had covered it with a blanket, scared that something might come out of it. Now it felt silly. I hesitated, then pulled the blanket away, my heart pounding. But the mirror showed only my own sleepy reflection. I let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing strange.
Feeling a little embarrassed, I went back to my room, trying to shake off the weird feeling. I picked up my comb from the table and started to fix my messy hair. Suddenly, a voice came from behind me.
“Um, hey?”
I screamed, dropping the comb, my heart racing. I turned around quickly and saw him—the same boy from yesterday—standing there, as if he had stepped out of the mirror. His blue eyes were wide, looking worried.
“Hey, calm down!” he said quickly. “I know you’re scared.”
“A...are you stalking me?” I asked, backing away toward the bed. My hands found a heavy book, and I grabbed it, ready to defend myself.
“No, no! Listen!” he said, raising his hands as if to show he meant no harm. “I don’t know how this is happening either. I promise I’m not a stalker.”
“D-did you use some kind of magic?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“What? No! I don’t know anything about magic!” He looked genuinely confused, maybe even more scared than I was.
I studied him closely. He didn’t look much older than me, probably a teenager too. His hair was brown and curly, sticking out from under a baseball cap. I noticed his room behind him in the mirror. It looked a bit weird, with pale beige walls and a desk on the right side of the door. On his desk, there was some strange device, a mix between a computer and a TV.
“Your room looks like mine,” he said, breaking the silence.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I replied, relaxing a little.
“Um, you should put that down,” he said, glancing at the book I was holding up as a weapon. Realizing I must look ridiculous, I put the book back on the table and sat on my bed, still keeping my distance.
“Is this some kind of fairytale?” I asked quietly. “Or are you just in the room next to mine?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t figure it out either.”
Just then, I heard my mom calling from downstairs. I glanced at the boy, unsure of what to do.
“I need to go,” I said quickly. “Until then…” I covered the mirror with the blanket again and ran downstairs.
Mom was waiting for me, her arms crossed. “Why are you late today?” she asked, frowning.
“S-sorry, Mom,” I mumbled, looking down. I knew she wasn’t really angry, just worried. She often got nervous about how people treated girls. Dad, however, was always telling her to make me do all the chores. He didn’t care that I was only fourteen.
“Come on now, help me out,” Mom said, her voice softening. I nodded and started setting the table, but my thoughts were still upstairs. How could I see that boy through the mirror? Was he real? Or was he something else? A ghost? An angel? A demon?
The questions swirled in my head, making me shiver. I had never believed in supernatural things before, but now I wasn’t so sure. I glanced up at the mirror, half-expecting to see something move under the blanket. I tried to push the thoughts away, but they stayed with me. What if he wasn’t the only one watching me from the other side?
