SUMGED MIRRORS
I woke up to my alarm screaming, my bonnet on the floor and my body begging for five more minutes.
One glance at the clock told me the truth - this wasn't the first alarm. It was the second blaring and mercy clearly didn't exist today. Ooh how life was being unfair to me.
I grabbed my phone.
"Holy s**t".
This wasn't even the right alarm . I was going to be late. Again.
"Cassandra", I muttered to myself, goosebumps crawling over my skin as panic slithered beneath it. "Why do you keep doing this ?"
I bolted out of bed and raced to the bathroom , clothes scattered all around and lifting into the air like my Attitude- ones I didn't even notice.
My foot caught a stray heel and suddenly the world tilted - at least that was what I thought until my body hit the floor almost breaking my spine and reality hit - I could finally see the mess I'd made.
"Ouch! That hurts, " I groaned rubbing my ankle and back. Maybe Mom was right -I really do need a maid .
No time for small talk, though. I had a meeting to attend and being late-again- was not part of my agenda.
I finally stumbled out of the bathroom, looking like a wet mess, towel wrapped haphazardly around my shoulders and my hair? Still dripping like a mop. I headed for the mirror .
My reflection greeted me.
I leaned closer , water still clinging to my lashes and for a moment the chaos around me seemed to fade.
My eyes stared back first.
They weren't just brown -never had been . They were honey caught in the shadow, warm and deep, glowing softly whenever the light dared to touch them. The kind of eyes that held stories, secrets and impossible not to taste with your thoughts .
My hair clung to my shoulders, still wet from the shower obviously, but even like that it fell in silk layered strand - golden - honeyed and stubbornly elegant, the kind you could describe as ethereal , refusing to look ordinary no matter how rushed and distressed I was .
I tilted my head studying the rest of my majestic reflection.
Full two- toned lips, candy -coated by nature already pouting in suppressed frustration. Brows arched and full perfectly framing almond shaped eyes that always made people think I was either judging them or plotting something- most times both. My cheekbones were sharp and well- defined inherited from my mother and sitting proudly beneath a spray of freckles that scattered across my Greek- Nubian nose like they had chosen their forever home.
I was beautiful .
I knew that .
I had always known that.
Beauty had never been my problem. Neither had it been Courage or intelligence. I had always been smart and bold even before life tried to tame me.
High school had proven that.
The memories crept in uninvited , sharp , vivid and scary the way old wounds always did.
I was sixteen again , standing in the art studio my most favorite place in the entire school , pride swelled in my chest , my cheeks flushing red as I stared at my work .
A masterpiece.
It was a house with clean , smooth , well-defined lines, bold structures and perfect proportions. Elegant . If it were bigger, it could have been mistaken for a real one.
My design.
My vision.
Architecture wasn't just something I loved .
It was my dream.
It was me.
And the reward for my intelligence was proudly displayed. The class president badge pinned to my uniform I had always won - fairly, loudly and unapologetically. And everyone knew this .
Especially him.
Mark Cooper.
Even his name still sends shivers of hate down my spine.
Old money , luxury items , sharp suits even in high school. A smile that never reached his eyes more like a smirk.
The test had been so simple, design and paint a miniature structure suitable for family inhabitation. Optional course. Extra credits and two minutes left on the clock.
I stepped back a bit to admire my work, still fresh with wet paint, heart racing with pride and contentment.
That was when it happened .
A sudden Shove.
I tripped of course and stumbled right into my own work. Wet paint smeared everywhere , everything ruined in seconds.
Laughter erupted behind me.
I turned slowly , anger and humiliation crashing me as hot tears streamed down my cheeks , and there he was . Watching, smirking
Not apologetic.
Never sorry.
I lost it, I rushed him and shoved him as hard as I could
"What's your deal ?, are you blind , look what you've done!"
Expecting at least an apology. I should have known better.
"Tss", he sighed. "You tripped over your own painting . Why are you blaming me for your clumsiness? Deal with your problems loser".
Then he left the room with his friends, and laughter erupted once again .
Two minutes .
Not enough time to start again . Not enough time to save anything .
I failed the test.
But he won something else that day - my hatred.
Solid , unforgiving and pure.
The kind that settles in your bones and waits , and mine still waits for the perfect time.
The memories dissolve just as they came.
My reflection stared back at me , unbroken , unmoved. My chest rose with a slow breath as I grounded myself back in the present.
Sixteen was long gone.
I stretched and straightened my shoulders.
The girl in the mirror wasn't that helpless teenager anymore she was stronger, sharper, bolder and Older.
And all that made me who I am today.
I reached for my eyeliner.
Bad idea.
One swift stroke across my eyelid and it was just a no - no the line came out thicker the wings smudged into something aggressive and entirely unplanned.
"Arghhhhh " I growled.
I wiped it off to redraw it but somehow that only made everything worse.
I leaned closer to the mirror, Squinted , tilted my head trying desperately to fix this s**t.
"No", I whispered, "Absolutely not".
The eyeliner stared back defiantly, like it had a personality of it's own and had decided to choose violence- this morning of all mornings.
I sighed , Deeply.
"Fine" , I muttered in clear disgust and defeat. "Be dramatic".
Mascara followed , clumping just enough to look intentional, and by the time I stepped back, I froze .
"It worked ". I giggled .
The look was intense. Giving deep office Siren. Striking . The kind of face people noticed and remembered.
I smirked at my reflection .
Accidental or not , this look was going to turn heads today.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
I glanced at the screen.
My stomach dropped.
"Oh no!". I gasped .
I checked the time again hoping - praying it would miraculously change.
It didn't .
I was officially late.
Typical Cassandra - never early for anything important.
I quickly pulled on my well ironed red office siren top and my jet black cooperate trousers, slipped on my jewelries, grateful my hair was done already. A quick spray of my cologne and I was out.
I grabbed my bag , slipped into my heels , nearly tripped again, and bolted out of the room.
I'll have breakfast in the office , I told myself as i snatched my car keys from the couch in the living room.
I slammed my car door shut, practically skidding on my heels as I tried to settle into the driver’s seat without twisting my ankle again. The engine roared to life, and I swallowed a groan of frustration. Traffic. Of course. It was Monday morning, the worst possible time for the universe to remind me how chaotic life could be.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, staring out at the road like if I glared hard enough, the cars would move faster. They didn’t. Typical.
“Okay, Cassandra,” I muttered to myself, taking a deep breath, “focus. It’s just a meeting. Just a meeting. Nothing can go wrong… except everything can.
As I merged onto the main road, my mind wandered—dangerously. My phone buzzed against the dashboard, and I glanced at the screen.
Gabrielle.
I smiled despite myself and answered through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Gabrielle’s voice chimed in, already laughing.
“Forgot what?” I said, steering with one hand.
“Our vacation,” she replied dramatically. “Boracay. Next week. White sand, clear water, cocktails, and absolutely zero architectural blueprints.”
I groaned softly. “Gabrielle, I run a company. I can’t just disappear.”
“You own the company,” she corrected. “Which is exactly why you should. You’ve been working like a possessed woman lately. Your brain needs rest before it files a complaint.”
"I guess you're right". I sighed
"I am always right", She shot back
Then I guess it's Boracay here we come? I asked.
Yayyy, she screeched and I chuckled.
Now get off my phone I'm driving I said and she disconnected the call.
