Mirror

Time passed quickly, and I was having the time of my life. Lara had been enthusiastically giving me a tour around the entire building.

"This way you'll remember where everything is when Mr. Lavigne starts giving you errands," she said cheerfully.

I couldn't stop smiling as we walked from hallway to hallway.

Lara introduced me to the office staff, though it almost felt like they already knew me. Everyone greeted me warmly, some even shook my hand. It was exhausting in a fun kind of way. Everything felt exciting and new.

But... where were Dad and Marco?

"Um, Lara," I asked as we walked toward a conference room she wanted to show me. She turned her head quickly, signaling that she heard me.

"Where's Marco?" I asked, puzzled.

She smiled knowingly. "Mr. Andrews didn't want me showing you where his office is."

I chuckled the moment she called him "Mr. Andrews." It sounded so wrong coming from her.

"Marco," she corrected herself with a small laugh, noticing my reaction. "He's always in meetings. And he specifically told me not to point you to his office."

I rolled my eyes.

Lara's eyebrows raised in surprise at my reaction. "S-sorry! I'm not annoyed at you, just at Marco's instructions," I clarified.

She smiled again as if saying, "No offense taken."

After the tour—which honestly overwhelmed me more than helped—I returned to my desk.

"If you ever need anything, just press 812 on the phone. That's my extension," Lara said with a smile so warm it felt like a hug. She was always smiling, always patient.

"Thank you. I will," I replied, genuinely grateful.

She left to attend to her own duties—her small, tidy desk sat just outside Dad's office upstairs, simple and organized with a vase of fresh daisies and a few neatly stacked folders.

Mr. Lavigne hadn't assigned me any tasks yet. Maybe he thought I was still with Lara. I peeked through the glass door of his office to check.

He was sitting in his chair, speaking on the phone. I froze when his gaze suddenly lifted and caught mine. Oh no. Why was I peeking like that?

I panicked and waved like a kid who spotted her parents at the mall—awkward, wide smile and all—then quickly spun back to my chair, mortified.

I tapped my forehead lightly. "Mia, what the hell. Embarrassing. Be professional," I scolded myself quietly.

I shook my head to clear the moment and glanced at the clock on my desk. 11:57 a.m. Almost lunchtime. Oh no… how am I going to eat? I didn't bring any money.

Maybe I should call Dad? Or Marco?

I picked up the phone and dialed 812.

"Mia?" Lara answered immediately.

"Can I get Marco's extension? I need to tell him something important," I said, nervously tapping my fingers against the desk.

"I'll have to ask his permission first," she replied quickly, clearly busy.

"Oh, okay. Thanks. Please let him know it's urgent."

A soft "Hmm" was all I got before she hung up.

I sat there for a moment. What now? I had no tasks, no money, and no clue what to do.

Maybe I should go ask Mr. Lavigne directly. Yes. Good idea. Just ask him.

I stood and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. Inhale. Exhale.

I walked to his office and knocked twice before slowly pushing the door open. He looked up and gestured for me to come in.

"Mr. Lavigne, I just wanted to ask if you needed anything."

He glanced at the clock, then paused for a moment as if deciding something.

"Lunch, perhaps?" he said finally.

"What would you like me to get?" I asked.

As I waited for his reply, I couldn't help but stare. His aura reminded me so much of Andreis… and Angelo. It was unsettling. He moved like them. He even sat like them. It was as if they were the same person.

I didn't realize I was zoning out until I heard his voice.

"Mia? Are you okay?"

Shit. "S-sorry! I spaced out. I'm fine."

"I don't need anything right now. Go get yourself some lunch," he said with a polite smile.

I nodded and quickly stepped out, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Seriously, Mia. Why do you keep embarrassing yourself in front of him?

Back at my desk, I frowned. I still didn't have lunch money. I didn't want to bother Dad, and Marco—

The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

"Mr. Lavigne's office," I answered.

"What do you want?" It was Marco.

I smiled instinctively. "I-I don't have money for lunch…"

He laughed. "That's what's urgent? I'm busy, Mia," he said with a chuckle and hung up before I could respond.

Ugh, he's so annoying.

Just then, someone knocked on the glass door. A smiling brunette woman entered, holding a brown paper bag.

"For you, Ms. Andrews," she said warmly.

"From who?" I asked, surprised.

"From Mr. Andrews."

I smiled. "Tell Dad thank you."

She raised an eyebrow. "No, from your brother."

My heart melted a little. For all his teasing, Marco still looked out for me.

"Tell him thank you—and ask him to send me some cash too," I joked with a grin. She laughed and nodded before leaving.

I opened the bag. A turkey sandwich, neatly wrapped. The bread was warm and soft, the turkey seasoned perfectly with a slight hint of rosemary. Creamy cheese melted between layers with a dash of Dijon mustard that gave it just the right kick.

I ate at my desk, too shy to go to the pantry where others might be.

What about Mr. Lavigne? Shouldn't he be eating too?

Eh. Maybe he's the type who skips meals.

I finished my sandwich and tossed the wrapper into the trash beside my desk.

"Thanks, Marco," I whispered to myself with a small smile.

***

Time passed slowly, the hours slipping by in silence. Then finally, Mr. Lavigne gave me a task.

"Can you organize these documents?" he said, his voice calm but firm as he handed me a thick stack of papers. "Check the contracts for any errors. Also, see which ones are urgent and which ones can wait."

He leaned casually against my desk as he spoke, the documents resting in one hand while his sharp eyes flicked briefly to mine. I stood up immediately, eager and smiling, and took them from him without hesitation. He gave a small nod and retreated to his office without another word.

Hours blurred together again as I immersed myself in the work. The rhythmic flipping of pages and the soft tapping of my pen were the only sounds that kept me company. The office gradually emptied around me until it was nearly silent.

By the time I looked up, night had already fallen.

Kenny was waiting outside to pick me up. He had sent a message earlier, saying he was parked just out front. Dad had told me earlier that he wouldn't be able to drive me home—something about an important meeting he couldn't miss. And Marco? Useless as ever. He never even bothered to call me back.

I stretched my arms above my head and let out a long sigh, the tension in my shoulders cracking slightly with the movement. The wall clock ticked past 7:40 PM. The office was nearly deserted now—just the soft humming of the fluorescent lights above and the occasional rustle of loose papers from my desk.

I had just finished reviewing the last contract. I gathered the documents into a neat pile, placed them in the folder, and rose from my chair. My footsteps were quiet as I walked toward Mr. Lavigne's office.

I knocked gently. No response.

"Mr. Lavigne?" I called out, my voice low in the stillness.

Still nothing.

I hesitated for a moment, then slowly pushed the door open.

The office was empty. It felt colder inside. The faint scent of something metallic—maybe ink, or something older—still lingered in the air. I stepped inside, placing the folder carefully on the corner of his desk.

Just as I turned to leave, something caught my eye.

A door.

Narrow. Tucked behind a tall bookshelf that nearly touched the ceiling. It was so well-hidden it could have passed for part of the wall. But it was ajar—only slightly, but enough to stir my curiosity.

Something in me shifted.

I walked toward it, heart quickening with each step. I pushed the door open slowly.

Behind it was a small room, dimly lit and cloaked in shadow. Dust floated lazily through shafts of pale light, and the air felt thick with age. The walls were lined with old books, their spines cracked and faded as though no one had touched them in decades. The smell was musty, like forgotten paper and something deeper—like secrets.

And then I saw it.

A tall mirror stood on the far side of the room, framed in dark, almost black wood. It looked ancient, its surface strangely clouded as if time itself had dulled the glass. I walked closer, and my reflection came into view—but something was wrong.

It didn't move right.

I lifted my hand slowly.

My reflection mimicked the gesture, but with the tiniest delay. As if it had to think about it first.

A chill ran down my spine. I took a step back, instinctively, heart suddenly racing.

"What are you doing in here?"

I flinched, a small gasp escaping my lips.

Mr. Lavigne stood in the doorway, tall and shadowed by the dim light behind him. His voice was calm, controlled—but there was something beneath it. A weight. A tension that made the air feel heavier.

"I… I was just returning the folder," I stammered, taking a step away from the mirror. "I didn't know there was another room in here."

He stepped inside with slow, measured steps. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes never left mine.

"This room isn't part of your internship," he said flatly.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm my face felt. "Sorry… I wasn't trying to pry."

His gaze lingered, steady and sharp. "This room holds memories. Some that are dangerous to awaken."

I let out a nervous laugh, weak and hollow. "You sound like a character from a novel."

He tilted his head slightly, finally breaking eye contact as he turned toward the mirror.

"Maybe I am," he said.

I looked at the glass again. "What's with the mirror? It doesn't feel right… It feels wrong."

"It's old," he replied softly. "Not everything in this world behaves the way it's supposed to."

I turned back to him, my voice barely above a whisper. "You mean… like people?"

He looked at me again, and for a split second, something flickered behind his eyes. Something ancient. Familiar.

"Yes," he said. "Especially people."

Goosebumps prickled up my arms. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. I was frozen in place, not from fear—but from something deeper. Like I had just brushed up against something I wasn't meant to know.

He passed by me quietly, his coat brushing lightly against my arm. At the door, he stopped and turned to me.

"You should go home, Mia," he said gently. "You'll want to be well-rested."

I hesitated, searching his face. "Mr. Lavigne… What is this place?"

He didn't answer. Only offered the faintest smile. The kind that felt like it meant more than it let on. Then he nodded toward the door.

I stepped out, dazed, my thoughts spinning with questions I couldn't begin to untangle.

As I reached the hallway, I glanced back one last time.

Mr. Lavigne was standing in front of the mirror.

But the reflection staring back at him…

It wasn't him.

It was someone else.

Someone I knew. It was Andreis.

I blinked hard—and just like that, the figure vanished.

Like it had never been there at all.