The flyer was simple. Black and white, printed on school paper with the bold words:
The Mirror Room
For anyone who's ever felt unseen, judged, too much, or not enough.
Wednesdays after school. Room 112.
Come as you are.
Lily hung the first copy on the bulletin board outside the cafeteria with trembling fingers. Sophie posted one outside the library. A few more went up on lockers and bathroom stalls.
By Wednesday, Lily expected… maybe three people. If she was lucky.
As the final bell rang, she walked to Room 112 with a knot in her stomach. She had a notebook under one arm and her sketchpad under the other. Sophie walked beside her.
"You've already done the scariest part," Sophie said. "You showed up."
"That's true," Lily said, though her heart still thumped against her ribs.
They reached the classroom. Ms. Carter, the art teacher, had agreed to let them use it. The lights were low. A circle of chairs had been arranged. A box of tea bags sat on the counter, next to a hot water kettle Lily had brought from home.
They waited.
Five minutes passed. Then ten.
Lily's throat tightened.
Maybe this was a mistake.
But then the door creaked open.
A girl Lily barely recognized—Shayla, from French class—slipped inside. She looked nervous, eyes darting from Lily to Sophie.
"Is this… still happening?" she asked.
Lily smiled, soft and real. "Yeah. It is. Come in."
Shayla sat down.
Then, one by one, others trickled in. By 3:30, there were eight of them total—including a boy named Dev who always sat in the back of chemistry, and a quiet freshman with a notebook full of song lyrics.
Lily cleared her throat. "Um… thank you for coming."
Everyone looked at her.
"This isn't about therapy," she said. "It's not a club with rules or requirements. Just a space where we can talk about what it feels like to be human. To be us."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Dev said, "That sounds… kind of perfect, actually."
Sophie leaned over and squeezed Lily's hand.
They spent the next hour talking—about bodies that didn't match the magazines, about anxiety, about the pressure to be liked. Shayla cried when she talked about being called "too dark" to be pretty. The freshman read a poem she'd written about her mom's cancer.
Lily shared, too. She told them about the whispers, the laughter in hallways. How she'd carried shame in her body like a second skin.
"But I'm learning," she finished. "That I get to define who I am. Not anyone else."
When the session ended, no one rushed to leave. They lingered. Smiled. Hugged.
As Lily packed up, someone lingered at the doorway.
Rachel.
Lily froze.
Rachel didn't step in. She just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"What is this?" she asked, voice unreadable.
"A space," Lily said evenly. "For honesty."
Rachel's eyes flicked to the tea, the circle of chairs, the soft lighting.
"Looks dramatic."
"Sometimes the truth is," Lily said quietly.
They stared at each other.
Rachel looked away first. "You think you're better now."
"No," Lily said. "I think I'm healing. There's a difference."
Rachel didn't respond. But she didn't leave either.
And then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
---
Later that evening, Lily returned to Fable & Thread. She found Nathan re-shelving a stack of donated books, his sleeves rolled up and a pencil tucked behind his ear.
She leaned against the front counter. "Guess what?"
"Tell me."
"First meeting of the Mirror Room had eight people."
Nathan's eyes widened. "Eight? That's incredible."
"Yeah," she said, cheeks flushed. "And Rachel showed up."
That made him pause. "Really?"
"She didn't come in. But she was curious."
"That counts," he said. "Sometimes people need to see a door a few times before they walk through it."
Lily nodded slowly. "I think… I'm learning to forgive her. Or maybe just to stop carrying her with me."
"That's brave."
"I think I'm braver than I thought."
Nathan's smile was quiet, proud. "Told you."
Lily looked around the cozy bookstore—the shelves, the golden lamplight, the faint smell of ink and wood and stories. Then back at Nathan.
"I like this place," she said. "And… I like us. Whatever this is."
He met her gaze, steady and warm. "Me too."
And this time, when he leaned in, Lily met him halfway.
No panic. No doubt.
Just the truth between them.
And it was enough.