Shattered Reflection

I sucked in a breath and sat up straighter, my spine stiff against the wooden chair. Across from me, my mother, Margaret Throng, sipped her tea, her eyes scanning my face as if I was doing something wrong.

"You didn't practice your walk enough today," she said.

I clenched my fists under the table. Nothing was ever enough for her.

"Mom, I've been training for hours," I said, keeping my voice low. "I barely got any sleep last night because I was going over my routine."

She sighed, dropping her teacup down. "Excuses won't win you the crown, Lisa."

I bit the inside of my cheek. This was how it had always been. I wasn't just competing for myself, I was competing for her, for our family's reputation.

Ever since I was fourteen, my mother had pushed me into the world of beauty pageants, convinced that winning a title would open doors for us. I used to believe it too. That if I could just win, everything would change.

But five years later, all I had were losses.

And another contest was just around the corner.

The Celestial Princess Pageant was my first real shot at making a name for myself. I was fifteen, eager, and foolishly confident. I had spent months preparing and practicing my walk, perfecting my answers, forcing myself into an image of elegance that didn't quite feel like my own.

But none of it mattered when I stood on that stage.

The lights were blinding, the judges' gazes so much at me, and the other contestants looked like they belonged there.

I, on the other hand, felt like a pretender.

And when the final results were announced, my name wasn't even in the top five.

I had lost.

I still remember standing backstage afterward, my crownless reflection mocking me in the mirror.

And then came my mother.

Margaret swept into the dressing room, her expression cold. She didn't say anything at first. She just looked at me, her silence heavier than any words she could have spoken.

Finally, she said, "Do you understand now?"

I swallowed hard. "Understand what?"

"That you weren't good enough."

The words hurt, but what hurt more was that I had said the exact thing to myself.

I wasn't good enough.

Not for the judges.

Not for my mother.

Not for anyone.

But instead of breaking, I made myself a promise: I would never lose again.

There comes my second attempt;

By the time I entered the Elite National Beauty Competition at sixteen, I was different. Hardened.

I trained obsessively, pushing my body and mind to the limit. I practiced my walk until my feet gusted, rehearsed my answers until I could say them in my sleep.

I refused to be the girl who lost again.

And for a while, it seemed like things would be different.

I nailed the swimsuit competition. My interview was flawless. Even the judges seemed impressed.

Then came the final round.

It was between me and another contestant, a girl named Vivian Hayes.

She was perfect. Tall, poised, with effortless charm. But I refused to believe she was better than me.

The host drew a long, dramatic pause before announcing the winner.

"And the crown goes to... Vivian Hayes!"

My heart dropped.

I smiled because that's what you're supposed to do, but inside, I was broken.

Another loss. Another disappointment.

As I walked off stage, I spotted my mother in the crowd.

She wasn't clapping. She wasn't smiling.

She simply turned away.

And that hurt more than anything.

When she met me at the dressing room, she did not say anything , she just told me to be fast that we are leaving soon and she left.

The car ride home was silent.

My father, as always, stayed out of it, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing anchoring him to this family. My younger sister, Emily, sat beside me, scrolling through her phone.

But my mother?

She was furious.

"You had it in your hands, Lisa," she finally snapped. "And you let it slip away. Again."

I stared out the window, my nails digging into my palms. "I tried my best."

"Your best wasn't enough."

I seethe with anger and frustration "Maybe I'm not meant to do this."

The words hung in the air, so heavy for me to let out of my mouth.

Margaret turned to me, eyes cold. "Then what are you meant to do? Because so far, you're a failure at everything else."

I cringed.

She continued, her voice low and dangerous . "Do you know how much money we've spent on you? In these competitions? How much of our reputation is riding on your success?"

"I never asked for this," I shot back, anger bubbling to the surface. "You forced me into this world. And now, no matter what I do, it's never enough for you."

For the first time in years, she was silent.

And then she said the words that would haunt me for years.

"Maybe because you're not enough."

All kept remembering all those word till we got home.

That night, I sat in my room, staring at the countless ribbons and participation trophies that lined my shelves.

I had spent five years chasing perfection. Five years trying to earn my mother's approval. Five years believing that if I just won, everything would be okay.

But I had nothing to show for it.

I was done losing.

I was done being weak.

I grabbed my phone and made a call.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was smooth, professional.

"Hi," I said, gripping the phone tighter. "I want to enter the Miss Celestial Crown competition."

A pause. Then, "That's the biggest pageant in the country. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

I exhaled. No, I wasn't ready.

But I would be.

"Sign me up," I said.

This time, I wouldn't lose.

This time, I'd do whatever it took to win.

Even if it meant losing myself in the process.

The next morning, I found an envelope on the kitchen counter.

It was addressed to me.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

I unfolded it. It was an anonymous letter.

And it read:

"Be careful, Lisa. Some victories come at a cost."

My blood ran cold.

Who sent this? And what did they know?

I had no idea.

But one thing was certain.

Winning might cost me more than I ever imagined.