Chapter 2: The Mirror Moment

The next morning, Mary woke up with heavy eyes. Her body felt weak, and her heart was tired. She sat on the bed for a long time before moving. “Another day,” she whispered, “but why does it feel the same?” She looked at the table beside her bed. The medicines were still there, waiting for her like old friends who never left. She took one in her hand but did not swallow it. She only stared at it and said quietly, “You are not helping me anymore.”

She walked slowly toward the mirror. It had been weeks since she had really looked at herself. The face staring back was old, tired, and lonely. Her skin looked thin, her eyes empty. “Is that really me?” she asked. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, very softly, she whispered, “But I am still alive.” The words surprised her. They came from somewhere deep inside, like a small voice that wanted to live again.

She looked at her reflection again, this time with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to die like this,” she said. “Not as someone who gave up.” Her hands were shaking, but her voice grew stronger. “I am still here. I can try again.” She didn’t know where the strength came from, but it was there — small but real.

She went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Her steps were slow, but her mind was awake. She drank the tea without sugar and smiled faintly. “It’s not sweet,” she said, “but maybe life doesn’t need to be sweet to be good.” She laughed a little, surprised at her own words. It had been a long time since she had laughed, even softly.

After finishing her tea, she walked to the window. The light touched her face, and for the first time in months, she didn’t close the curtain. She looked outside, not to escape her pain, but to see if life was still waiting for her. Something inside whispered, “Go out, Mary. Just go out.” She didn’t answer, but she heard it clearly.

Later that afternoon, she took a small box from her drawer. It was full of old photos. She saw her younger self — smiling, strong, full of energy. She touched one photo and said, “Where did you go?” Then she smiled softly and answered herself, “You never left. You just got lost.”

She took a deep breath and began to do something new. She cleaned her room. She picked up her husband’s old sweater, folded it carefully, and said, “You’ll always be here with me, but I have to live now.” For the first time, she spoke those words out loud. It made her heart feel lighter.

She opened a small box of paints she had once loved to use. Her fingers trembled as she touched the brushes. “Maybe I can still paint,” she said. But she didn’t paint that day. She only promised herself that she would soon. Sometimes promises are stronger than actions.

The day passed quietly, but her thoughts were not quiet anymore. She was thinking, remembering, and questioning. She sat near the window again and whispered, “What if I try walking tomorrow?” The thought scared her. Her knees hurt often. But the idea of staying the same scared her more. She said to herself, “One step. Only one.”

Before going to bed, she went back to the mirror again. She looked at herself with gentle eyes this time. “You’ve cried enough,” she said softly. “Now it’s time to breathe.” She smiled a little. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was real.

That night, when she lay down, she didn’t hold her pillow tightly as before. She felt something new — not happiness, but a small peace that touched her soul. She whispered, “Thank you, God, for this little courage.” And for the first time in months, she fell asleep without tears.

The next morning would bring something different. She didn’t know it yet, but her heart was ready for a change — a small walk that would open the door to life again.