The glass was an heirloom, passed down through three generations of women in her family. It was said that the mirror didn't just show your face; it showed your truth. For Adriana, that truth had been blurred by years of living for everyone but herself. She was a daughter, a wife, and a mother, but the woman named Adriana had become a ghost in her own life. She finally raised her eyes.
The reflection changed again. Now she saw herself in a rain-slicked city she didn't recognize, looking older, grayer, but possessed of a terrifying, beautiful strength. This version of Adriana was standing alone on a balcony, looking out over a sprawling horizon with a look of absolute peace. It was a future she hadn't yet claimed.
The ripples moved outward like a stone dropped in a still pond. She felt a pull, an invitation to step through the glass and reclaim the fragments of her soul she had left behind in the corners of time. She realized then that the mirror wasn't a judge; it was a doorway.