Chapter 10: The Mirror Cracks
896 Words
The air in Sasha's room felt thick with decision, a quiet intensity that hadn't been there before. The kind of silence that follows a storm and precedes transformation. It had been two weeks since the night she walked away from Vibe Lounge, two weeks of early mornings, sketches, and listening really listening to herself and to her mother.
But change doesn’t always happen in straight lines. Sometimes, it comes with detours.
One afternoon, as Sasha sat at her desk pinning fabric samples and adjusting thread colors for her mentorship submission, her phone lit up with a name she hadn’t expected to see again: Tina.
Tina had been a part of the old world one of Sasha's closest friends from her early party days. They had once dubbed themselves "The Fire Queens," known for their reckless weekends, bold outfits, and matching tattoos. But Tina had gone quiet around the time Sasha got deep with Dele.
Tina: Hey babe. I’ve missed you. You free to catch up today?
Sasha stared at the screen. Her instinct was hesitation but curiosity won.
They met at a quiet café downtown. Tina looked different more polished, less glittery. But her smile was still the same, and when she leaned in to hug Sasha, there was a surprising softness in her eyes.
“I heard about what happened,” Tina said gently, sipping a chilled smoothie. “The raid. The fallout. I was scared for you.”
Sasha swallowed. “I was scared for me too.”
Tina reached across the table and touched her hand. “I left that life, Sasha. Six months ago. Cold turkey. It nearly destroyed me.”
“Really?”
“I overdosed,” Tina whispered. “Alone. My brother found me. That was my wake-up call.”
The confession hit Sasha like a slap. She thought she’d been to the edge. But this… this was the cliff.
Tina continued. “You’re stronger than you think. You pulled back before it took more from you. Don’t go back.”
Sasha nodded, her throat tight. “I’m trying to do something real now. Fashion. A mentorship. I want to make something of myself.”
Tina smiled. “Then we’re walking the same path.”
The days that followed were filled with purpose. Sasha spent hours refining her designs. She documented her process in a journal one she hadn’t dared to open since her father passed. The pages began to fill with color, ambition, and meaning.
But one night, as she lay awake, the past came knocking again.
This time, not with a text but a video.
It came from an anonymous i********: page. The caption read: “Your queen isn’t as polished as she looks.”
Sasha tapped it. It was grainy, shot on a phone. Her. In the club. Drunk. Dancing on a table. Then stumbling into Dele’s arms, her head lolling back as he kissed her neck. Her dress slipping slightly.
The video ended with her collapsing into a booth, laughing hysterically.
Her chest tightened. Shame crawled up her skin like fire ants. Comments were already pouring in.
“She’s just like the rest of them.”“And she thinks she can teach fashion?”“Such a disgrace. Party trash.”
Her hands trembled.
Mama Grace heard her sobbing through the wall and came in without knocking. “What happened?”
Sasha handed her the phone. Her mother watched in silence, her lips pressed tight.
“I ruined everything,” Sasha whispered.
Mama Grace sat beside her. “No, you didn’t. They’re trying to drag you back into darkness. That’s what happens when you start shining they want to cover your light.”
“But the mentors what if they see it?”
“Then let them. Let them see the full truth. Because your past is part of your strength. Anyone can wear a mask, but only the brave take it off.”
The next morning, Sasha didn’t hide. She posted a photo of her sketchbook with a message:
“Yes, that video is me. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve also made progress. I’m not perfect, but I’m not hiding either. If my past offends you, I understand. But I’m building a future. And I’m proud of that.”
The comments were mixed. But for every insult, there was support.
“This is real growth.”“We love an honest queen.”“Don’t stop. You’ve got this.”
Tina reposted it. Vanessa commented hearts. Even some strangers reached out privately to thank her.
By the end of the week, Sasha received an official email from Fashion Edge:
Congratulations. You’ve been selected for the mentorship program.
Tears streamed down her face.
She didn’t need a club, a table, or Dele’s hand to feel seen. She had found something bigger. Something real.
But just as she prepared to step fully into her new chapter, a knock echoed at the door.
She opened it to find a young woman barely older than her, eyes sharp, voice cold.
“You’re Sasha?”
“Yes…”
“I think we need to talk. It’s about Dele.”
The chapter ends there, the air tense. What new truth waits? Who is this woman? And why is Dele's name returning like a ghost?
Sasha had no idea.
But the mirror had cracked. And through it, something darker was coming.
- Writer
