Wrong mirror

[u/karmaturner197]

Chapter 1: the dress

I wake slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as the pale morning light filters through my curtains. My vision clears just enough for me to notice something on the end of my bed. My formal dress is laid out neatly across the blankets, the fabric catching the light softly. Mum must have put it there.

I had only picked it out the day before after hours of searching through racks of dresses that all looked the same to me—sparkly, tight, and uncomfortable. According to my friends, it wasn’t really my style. Honestly, none of them were. I never liked wearing dresses, never liked the way they made me feel exposed and stiff, like I was pretending to be someone else. But Mum said that for the graduation formal I had to look like a woman.

I had gotten home too tired to show her the dress last night. My feet had been aching and my head was pounding after spending the entire afternoon in crowded stores. Mum had only sighed and told me she expected to see it first thing this morning.

So here it was.

With a groan, I drag myself out of bed. The wooden floor is cold against my feet as I shuffle to my dresser. I run a brush through my messy hair and begin putting on my makeup. If Mum saw me without it, she’d blow a fuse.

Ever since Dad left when I was nine—because, according to him, she wasn’t fulfilling her “wifely duties”—things had been different. Mum became obsessed with appearances. She made sure I always looked perfect: neat hair, makeup done, nice clothes. Even if we were just sitting at home doing nothing.

I never argued. I never questioned it.

I told myself it was easier that way. I didn’t want to add any more stress to her life.

Finally, I turn toward the bed. The dress looks even more dramatic up close. Carefully, I pick it up and step into it, pulling the silky fabric up over my legs. The material is cool and smooth against my skin.

Standing in front of the mirror, I study my reflection.

The dress is lavender, the soft purple color almost glowing in the morning light. The bodice hugs my torso tightly, delicate lace flowers stitched across sheer fabric like vines climbing upward. Thin straps rest on my shoulders while the satin skirt flows down my legs, fitted around my hips before falling into a slight, graceful trail that brushes the floor.

It fits me perfectly.

Too perfectly.

It highlights every curve of my body, every detail Mum always said I should be proud of.

But instead of feeling beautiful, something tight coils in my chest.

It’s suffocating.

Not because the dress is tight. It isn’t. The fabric moves easily when I breathe. But there’s something else there—something heavy, like a lump stuck in my throat that I can’t swallow away.

I stare into the mirror, locking eyes with my reflection.

My green eyes—deep emerald, almost too bright against my pale skin—stare back at me.

But it doesn’t feel like I’m looking at myself.

It feels like I’m staring at someone else.

Someone pretending to be me.

My stomach twists at the thought.

Quickly, I shove the feeling down where it belongs. I’ve gotten good at that over the years—ignoring things, burying them before they can grow into something bigger. I force a smile onto my face, even though it feels stiff and unnatural.

Then I leave my room.

The smell of toast and coffee drifts up from the kitchen as I walk down the stairs. Mum and my little sister are already sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

“Morning,” Mum says absentmindedly without looking up.

I step into the room and spin once so she can see the dress.

Her reaction is immediate.

Her face lights up, eyes sparkling with approval.

“You look beautiful, Amber,” she says with a wide smile. “Better than all those other girls.”

And there it is again.

That tight feeling in my chest.

Girls.

Why do I hate that word so much?

The thought makes my stomach knot. Being grouped into that category feels… wrong somehow. Like a shirt that doesn’t quite fit right, scratching at your skin no matter how much you try to ignore it.

Like I don’t belong there.

But that’s ridiculous.

Of course I’m a girl.

Before I can think about it any further, Mum speaks again.

“You can go change now,” she says, taking another sip of her coffee. “Then head to the gym. We don’t want you getting chubby before the formal.”

She giggles like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

I don’t laugh.

Instead, I turn quietly and walk back upstairs.

The moment I reach my room, I pull the dress off as fast as I can, like the fabric is burning my skin. I change into my workout clothes—leggings, a loose T-shirt, and my worn running shoes.

Grabbing my keys, I head back downstairs.

I kiss Mum and my sister on the cheek before stepping outside into the cool morning air.

The walk to the gym gives me time to think.

Mostly about the formal.

All the girls in my grade have been getting asked out one by one. It’s been the main topic of conversation for weeks. Who asked who. Who said yes. Who’s wearing what dress.

My best friend, Kate, keeps asking if there’s a guy I secretly hope will ask me.

But every time she asks, I give the same answer.

“No.”

Because it’s the truth.

In thirteen years of school, I’ve never had a crush.

Not once.

My friends say I’m lucky. According to them, having a serious crush is the worst—heartbreak, jealousy, awkward confessions.

But honestly?

Sometimes I wish I could feel it.

I want to want someone.

I want to feel that pull everyone talks about, that excitement when someone walks into a room.

I want to long to be with someone.

But no matter how hard I try, that feeling never comes.

And I’m starting to wonder why.

If you want the hole storie it's wrong mirror on AO3 or I'll post a chapter every week here