Chapter 4: The Room Without Shadows
The library looked different at night.
Not abandoned—waiting.
Aarav pushed the door open slowly. It didn't creak this time. The air inside felt warmer, like the building recognized him. His footsteps echoed, but not loudly, as if the walls were listening rather than judging.
He reached the last room.
The mirror was still there.
But something was wrong.
There was no reflection.
Aarav stepped closer. His body stood before the glass, but the surface remained empty—smooth, silent, untouched by light.
His chest tightened.
"You're late," a voice said.
It didn't come from behind him.
It came from inside his head.
"You always arrive late to yourself."
Aarav dropped his notebook.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
The mirror finally moved.
Not cracked.
Not shattered.
It breathed.
Slowly, a version of Aarav appeared—older eyes, steadier posture, a calm that felt earned rather than imagined.
"I'm the version you postponed," the reflection said.
"The one you promised you'd become when it felt safe."
Aarav shook his head.
"You're not real."
The reflection smiled gently.
"That's what you told yourself every time you chose silence."
Memories flooded the room—not images, but feelings. Fear. Relief. Regret. The comfort of hiding. The pain of being unseen.
"You wrote to me," Aarav said.
"No," the reflection replied.
"You listened. Writing was just how you translated it."
The mirror darkened again.
"One choice," the voice said.
"Keep surviving quietly—or step out and let the world hear you break."
Aarav picked up his notebook with shaking hands.
For the first time, he didn't ask what would happen if he failed.
He asked what would happen if he didn't try.
He stepped forward.
The mirror disappeared.
The room filled with light.
And Aarav was no longer alone inside himself.