The Cracks in the Mirror My mom always told me that broken things still reflect light. I never really understood what she meant until the day the mirror in my room shattered. It happened on a Thursday morning. I was running late, frustrated, and tired of pretending everything was fine. My reflection looked back at me—the same messy hair, the same tired eyes—and I just… lost it. The mirror fell, splintering into pieces that scattered like ice across the floor. For a long time, I just stared. I saw a thousand versions of myself: some upside down, some twisted, some clear. None of them were perfect, but together, they looked like a mosaic. That’s when I realised: maybe that’s what life is. Not perfect pieces, but broken ones that still catch light. I spent that afternoon picking up the shards, careful not to bleed. When I placed them back together, the cracks didn’t disappear but somehow, they made it more beautiful. It didn’t look like a mistake anymore; it looked like a story. Now, every morning, I face that same mirror. The cracks remind me that chaos isn’t always destruction. Sometimes, it’s transformation. Sometimes, the mess is what makes the masterpiece. Muhammad Zeeshan Niyaz 7C
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