Reflections of the Lost Dawn

Chapter 3: Shadows of What Could Be

"The life of man is like a shadow; it passes swiftly and leaves nothing behind."

— Marcus Aurelius

Days passed, but the memory of Yuu in the mirror stayed with me. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see him—older, happier, and untouched by the passage of time that had worn me down. The sight of him, smiling and carefree, haunted me. It felt wrong somehow, as if I had glimpsed a life that didn’t belong to me.

I didn’t tell anyone about what I saw. What could I say? That I’d seen my old best friend, a version of him from a life I never lived, reflected in a mirror? They’d think I was losing my mind. Maybe I was.

But the pull of the mirror was relentless. The more I tried to push it out of my thoughts, the more it consumed me. What had I really seen? Was it just a trick of the mind? Or was the mirror showing me something… more?

On the third day, I gave in. It was like something inside me couldn’t rest until I went back. The attic felt colder this time, the dust on the floor undisturbed except for the trail of footprints I had left the last time. My heart pounded as I stepped toward the mirror, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light.

I didn’t know what I expected. Another glimpse of Yuu? Or something entirely different? Whatever it was, I was about to find out.

I took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror again. My reflection greeted me—disheveled hair, tired eyes, a face worn from restless nights. I stared into the glass, waiting, almost daring it to show me something, anything. The moments stretched out, the silence thick with anticipation. And then, just like before, the image in the mirror began to shift.

The room in the reflection grew brighter, sharper, as if a veil had been lifted. It wasn’t the attic anymore. I was standing in a wide-open park, the sun filtering through the trees, casting long shadows on the grass. And there, in the distance, was me—or at least someone who looked like me.

But this version of myself was different. He stood taller, his posture more relaxed, his face free of the tension that had become a constant companion in my life. He was laughing, surrounded by people—people I recognized but hadn’t seen in years. Friends from school, from a time before everything had fallen apart. And there, by my side, was Aoi.

My breath caught in my throat. Aoi, with her distant eyes and quiet demeanor, who barely acknowledged me in real life, was standing close to the version of me in the mirror. She looked happy—genuinely happy—and the way she smiled at him… at me… was something I had never seen before. It was a smile filled with warmth, the kind of smile I had always hoped she would give me but never had.

My heart twisted. This wasn’t real. This was just some trick, some impossible vision of what could have been. But as I stood there, watching this alternate version of my life unfold, I felt a pang of longing so deep it hurt. Was this really what could have happened? If I had made different choices, if I had tried harder, would this have been my life?

I watched them—watched myself—moving through a world that felt both familiar and foreign. The sun was setting in the reflection, casting long shadows across the ground, as if to remind me that time was running out. I wanted to reach out, to touch the glass and step into that world, but something held me back.

The version of me in the mirror turned suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, I thought he saw me. His smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet understanding. It was as if he knew—knew that I was watching, knew that this world wasn’t mine, but his. And then, with one final glance, the image flickered and disappeared.

I was back in the attic, staring at my reflection once again. Alone.

I stumbled back, my heart racing. What had I just seen? Was this really a glimpse of what my life could have been, or was it just an illusion—an echo of my deepest desires and regrets? I didn’t know. But what I did know was that the mirror had shown me something more than just a reflection. It had shown me shadows of what could be, of a life I had lost before I even knew it was mine to have.

I left the attic, my mind spinning with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to. But one thing was certain: the mirror wasn’t done with me yet.