Reflected In You Novels & Stories

- You can't see behind a mirror, it reflects any vision - He says smiling and opens the door - Feel free - Come down and leave me there full of thoughts. What and who is she? What you want from me?

It is mine. My reflection shimmers in the window, shimmers like the city lights, shimmers like the parts of me that should be, that are supposed to be, that are mine. My reflection shimmers, my anger shimmers, my resolve shimmers, my determination shimmers. My reflection shimmers like my anger, like my resolve, like my determination. My reflection shimmers and hardens. My reflection hardens. My face hardens. My face hardens. My face hardens into the certainty of a plan, into the certainty of resolve, into the certainty of an answer, of a truth, of a reaction. “Game on,” I whisper. “Game on.”

And then replied: > “Only if it means someone else gets to speak.” Mirrorwall (resonance) There was no echo when her voice touched the stone. But it left shape. A soft ripple. And a glint. Not reflection. Recognition. The kind a mirror holds when it no longer shows what was. Only what is still arriving.

"You just proved you're not me." The reflection stared back at me. "...You've got to be kidding." The reflection closed its eyes for a moment. "Am I really this dense?" I bristled. "Don't say that. You're the stupid one." The reflection let out a quiet, strained laugh. "We're wasting time." Its voice lost some of its earlier calm. "I've already told you—there is no 'you' and 'me.' We're the same person." It held my gaze.

“Cute. They think showing me a bloodthirsty version of myself will rattle me. Too bad I don’t rattle anymore.” Madison smirked, her shadow curling across the cracked glass. “It’s not about rattling. It’s about revealing. The question is—how much of this is reflection, and how much is prophecy?” Vera’s voice was quieter, but steady. “Without fear… can we even tell the difference?” The mirrors pulsed, their surfaces rippling. Our reflections stepped forward. Not just illusions. Not just possibilities. Echoes, stepping out of the glass, wielding our shapes, our powers, our potential.

"The answer lies not in your words, but in your reflection." She gestured towards a dusty mirror hanging on the wall behind her. A jolt of dread shot through me as I looked into its depths. Reflected back at me wasn't just my own image, but Skylar's, her hand reaching out to touch mine. It was a fleeting image, from the night we'd met, but undeniable. Panic surged through me. No. Skylar couldn't be it. She was human, beautiful, innocent. I couldn't, wouldn't share her with Lucas, not like this. The thought of him touching her, of her being subjected to the curse…

"Who are you?" She stared at her reflection. Heart pounding so hard it hurt. The reflection tilted its head. Smiled bigger. "I'm you. The real you. The one they buried way down inside." "That's impossible." She stepped back. My legs felt weak. "You're not real. This is the drug. Dr. Chen gave me something." "The drug just woke me up." The reflection moved even though she stood still. "Been here all along. Waiting. Watching through your eyes."

“I’d hate to be boring.” I let her go. She walked away without looking back, but her shoulders were tense—like she could feel my eyes on her even after she turned the corner. And she was right. Because I did watch her go. And I hated myself for it. Back in my room, I stood by the window, staring at the reflection in the glass. The old version of me—cold, controlled, untouchable—should’ve been fine. This was nothing. Just a coincidence. Just a woman.

My feet move before I decide to. Slow. Heavy. Like something is pulling me forward. “No… I don’t need to see this again.” “Yes, you do.” “I don’t—” “You avoided it.” “I survived it.” “You buried it.” My hand trembles. “Because I had to.” “And now you don’t.” I reach the door. My reflection stares back at me in the dull metal surface. But it’s wrong. Different. Younger. More afraid. “This isn’t me.” “It is.” “No.”

It was still to come. Yusuf stopped behind her, so close that the warmth of his body seemed to caress her back, even though no touch had yet happened. "The mirror is cruel, Lauren." His voice whispered near her nape. "It shows everything. Even what you try to hide from yourself." She swallowed dryly. "But it is also fair," he continued. "Because it reflects, but it does not judge." A shiver ran from her heels to her nape. "Today, you will see yourself as I see you," he said. "And you will feel. Not with your skin. With everything."