The Mirror

Part 1

Sophie's car hummed along the empty country road, the city skyline shrinking behind her as fields of golden wheat stretched endlessly ahead. Her backseat was packed with boxes—her whole life crammed into a few bags and crates—and it still felt surreal. She hadn't expected this kind of shift, not so soon, but life had a way of throwing curveballs. The house on the farm, left to her by Aunt June, seemed like both a burden and an escape. Sophie had fond memories of summers spent there as a child, long before her mother had a falling out with June. The thought of returning to that farmhouse felt both nostalgic and daunting.

Sophie adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and glanced at her phone, where her mother's name flashed across the screen.

With a sigh, she hit the speaker. "Hey, Mom."

"Sophie. You on the road?"

"Yeah, just left the city. About an hour out now."

There was a pause, the kind Sophie was used to when her mother was gathering words that wouldn't cross too many lines. "You really think this is the right move? Running off to a farmhouse, away from everything?"

Sophie stifled a sigh. "It's not running, Mom. It's... I'm starting fresh. I need space to figure things out." Sophie blew a stray strand of hair out of her face, the rest of her chestnut hair haphazardly pulled into a messy ponytail—an unintentional reflection of the stress and rush she'd been under after packing up her apartment in Nashville.

"You always needed space," her mother said with a dry laugh. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

They'd had this conversation before, in various forms, with varying degrees of tension. Sophie knew her mother didn't approve of her choices—leaving behind a stable job, now this—but they had long since reached an understanding. They kept their lives at arm's length, offering support only where it wouldn't intrude too far into judgment. For Sophie, the farmhouse was more than just an inheritance; it was a perfect place for solitude, a chance to finally finish her first novel. She had secured funding from an independent publisher run by a college friend, and now, far from the city's distractions, she could focus on what mattered most—her writing.

"I'll be fine," Sophie said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Besides, it's the only option I have right now. Aunt Lila left me the house; it's a fresh start."

"Just don't expect me to come running if things go wrong."

"I know, Mom. I'm not expecting that."

Silence lingered between them, filled only by the soft hum of the road. They weren't close, but there was peace in the distance they maintained, a kind of unspoken truce that neither of them wanted to break.

"Well," her mother finally said, her voice softer, "take care of yourself."

"I will," Sophie promised, even as she wondered what she was truly heading toward. She hung up, watching the road unfurl in front of her like a path to the unknown.

Sophie pulled down the long dirt driveway of her aunt's farmhouse, the tires kicking up clouds of dust that swirled in the early evening light. The house came into view—weathered, worn, and in desperate need of attention. The paint had peeled away in long strips, revealing patches of faded wood beneath. Sophie cringed as she parked, already overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work the place needed. The roof looked like it hadn't been tended to in years, and the front porch sagged as though the house itself was tired of standing.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of the car and grabbed the nearest box from the backseat. With the box tucked under her arm, using her hip to counter the weight, Sophie looked as the front of the house and vaguely remembered running up the steps as a child. The sound of her feet stomping on the wood plants and the creek of the door hinges as she flung the door open. She could almost feel the cool metal of the door knob in her hand again.