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Mirror of Fate
(Part 1) Chapter 1 - Reflexions

(Part 1) Chapter 1 - Reflexions

Orla:

I squinted as a ray of sunlight beamed through the open crack of the lace curtains, catching me off guard and momentarily blinding me. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the bright spots from my vision. The light filtered through the delicate patterns of the curtains, casting intricate designs on the polished marble floor of the bridal suite. But now it felt more like a spotlight, harsh and unrelenting, a reminder that soon all eyes would be on me.

I rose from the ornate chair where I had been sitting, the rustle of my dress the only sound in the vast room. Everything here was almost too grand, too perfect. The high ceilings were adorned with crystal chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds in the afternoon light, their brilliance almost overwhelming. Everything about this place screamed luxury—from the intricately carved furniture to the fresh bouquets of white roses that lined the windowsills. It was the kind of venue people could only dream of, reserved for fairy-tale weddings and society’s elite.

As I walked to the large palladian windows, the scene outside felt like a cruel joke. The world looked so flawless, as if daring me to find peace in a moment that felt anything but calm. How could everything seem so breathtaking while my chest was tight with unease?

The sprawling gardens of the Ashcroft Estate stretched endlessly before me, their manicured lawns and shimmering fountains blending with the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. Beyond the hedges, I caught glimpses of horses grazing leisurely in the paddocks, their calm movements adding to the illusion of tranquility. It was all too perfect, like a scene from a painting rather than real life. Even the air—heavy with the scent of jasmine and lavender—felt stifling, each breath adding to the pressure in my chest. How could something so beautiful surround me while everything inside felt so out of place?

I reached for the curtains and drew them slightly, enough to dull the brightness that had been so overwhelming. The room dimmed, the light now softer, more muted. But even as the glare faded, the unease inside me only grew stronger, pressing against my ribs like a vice.

I don’t know if I can do this, the thought tumbled through my mind, a mix of doubt and fear I couldn’t push aside.

I turned back to the mirror, taking a steadying breath as I tried to find some semblance of calm in my reflection. I looked all glammed up, almost unrecognizable—my dark brown hair, styled in a simple side braid, was accented by an elbow-length veil pinned low in my hairstyle, trailing softly down my back. My petite frame was wrapped in a breathtaking ballgown silhouette, the dress crafted from intricate white lace. The elegant off-the-shoulder neckline and long sleeves added a touch of timeless romance to the overall look. But as my fingers smoothed over the lace, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t just the typical nerves of a bride-to-be; this was deeper, more visceral. It felt like a warning, a whisper from somewhere I couldn’t quite reach.

“Orla, you look stunning,” my mother’s voice came from the doorway, her smile warm and proud. “Logan is going to be speechless when he sees you.”

I forced a smile, trying to push aside the unease that had been building all morning.

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied, though the words felt hollow.

She stepped into the room, her expensive black heels clicking on the marble floor rhythmically as she walked over to me, her fitted lilac mother-of-the-bride dress making her look stiff and somewhat out of place.

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“You know, sweetheart, it’s perfectly normal to have doubts on your wedding day,” she began, her voice carrying that familiar, gentle tone that always made me feel like a little girl. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning my face as if she could sense my discomfort. “Every bride gets cold feet. But marriage isn’t about love. It’s about security and stability. You’re marrying Logan because he can give you the life you deserve. Love will come later, after you’ve settled into your roles.”

Her words hit me strangely, unsettling me in a way I couldn’t explain. Why would my mother say that?

“It’s not about love?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled indulgently, as if I were a child asking why the sky was blue.

“Love is overrated, darling. It’s a nice idea, but it doesn’t pay the bills. What matters is that Logan is a good provider, and he cares for you in his way. That’s all you need.”

I looked at her, searching for something—anything—that would make her words less horrifying, but all I saw was a woman who had long made peace with a life of convenience over connection. My heart sank at the realization. How was this supposed to ease my nerves? Then again, my mother was never the nurturing type and rarely seemed to read the room. Still, I wasn’t about to argue with her on a day like this. Deep down, I hoped her presence—or even just having my parents here altogether—would bring some kind of solace, but that comfort felt frustratingly out of reach.

I turned back to the mirror, but then I saw it—something that shouldn’t have been there. Just for a moment, the face staring back at me wasn’t mine. It was almost like mine, but not quite. Her features were eerily similar—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and dark hair—but they were shadowed by an expression I’d never worn. She looked guarded, her eyes wide with fear, as if she knew something terrible was about to happen.

Her gaze was locked with mine, pleading silently, but with what, I couldn’t say. There was a vulnerability there, a deep, ancient sorrow that chilled me to the bone. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

The most striking difference, though, was the wardrobe. Instead of the lace dress I wore, she was dressed in an opulent hanbok, the traditional Korean dress. The vibrant colors were stunning—rich reds and deep purples, embroidered with intricate gold threads that shimmered with every movement. The fabric seemed to glow in the soft light, the wide, flowing sleeves and layered skirts swaying gently, as though a breeze was lifting them, even though the room was still.

Her hair was adorned with an elaborate gilded pin, holding it in a graceful chignon. The long banyeo was a work of art, with a lotus carved in gold on one end, catching the light with every tiny movement of her head.

This woman—this queen—felt like a reflection of me, but not from this world. She was someone from another time, another place, and yet her fear felt intimately familiar. It was as though she knew something I didn’t, something that was about to change everything.

I blinked, and she was gone—just like that—leaving only my reflection staring back at me. The opulent hanbok, the fear in her eyes, all of it disappeared as though it had never existed.

My heart raced, cold sweat prickling down my spine.

What did I just see? Was it a trick of the light, or had I truly glimpsed something—or someone—from another world?

No, forget it. It’s all in my head. My nerves are just getting the best of me. That's it.

"Orla, you’re doing the right thing," my mother’s voice cut through my daze, her tone now more stern, pulling me back to reality. "Logan is a good man. He’ll take care of you, and that’s what matters. Don’t let foolish dreams of love cloud your judgment."

She leaned in and kissed my forehead, the gesture unnatural, almost rehearsed, leaving a faint trace of her lipstick on my skin.

“I’ll give you a moment to yourself,” she added, pausing at the door before turning back. "But don’t forget, this isn’t just about you and Logan. It’s a union of families." Her words hung in the air, a heavy reminder that there was more at stake than just our vows.

As I sank back into the chair, my thoughts swirled, colliding with the haunting image of the queen in the mirror. Her guarded eyes, the vibrant hanbok, and the sorrow etched into her features blended with my own rising doubts, creating an overwhelming tide of uncertainty. Everything twisted together, tightening in my chest again until I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore.

Was I crazy to go through with this? Could I really convince myself this was the right thing to do? Or was I blindly walking into the biggest mistake of my life?