It wasn’t a temple hall.
No bells. No chants. No crowd.
Just my bedroom… quiet… familiar… and a mirror that had watched me for years.
Morning light slipped through the curtain and fell straight across the dressing table. Dust particles floated slowly in the air. Everything felt unusually still — as if the room itself knew today was different.
On the table lay a razor, a small bowl of water, and a towel.
I stood there for a long moment… just looking at myself.
My hair framed my face the way it always had. Every memory in old photos — birthdays, trips, laughter — carried that same image. I ran my fingers through it one last time.
“Ready?” I asked my reflection.
It didn’t answer.
But I knew.
The First Stroke
I tied the cloth around my shoulders and wet my hair.
Cold water trickled down the back of my neck and I shivered slightly. My hand hesitated before picking up the razor.
I took a breath.
Then… slowly… I placed the blade near my forehead.
Shhhk.
A small path appeared.
For a second, I froze.
Not because I regretted it — but because it suddenly became real. The sound was soft yet loud in the silent room.
I leaned closer to the mirror.
Another stroke.
More hair slid down, collecting near the sink. The person in front of me was already changing.
Watching the Change
I kept going — careful, patient.
The back was awkward. I had to tilt my head, stretch my arm, check the mirror again and again. Sometimes I laughed at myself trying to see angles that didn’t want to be seen.
With every pass, my face looked clearer.
Strangely… lighter.
The mirror no longer showed a styled version of me. It showed expressions — nervousness, focus, curiosity — things I usually hid behind appearance.
At one point I stopped and simply stared.
Half shaved. Half not.
It looked funny.
I laughed out loud — alone in the room.
The Final Pass
When the last patch remained at the crown, I slowed down.
There’s always a moment before finishing something irreversible.
I ran the razor gently.
The final strands fell.
Silence.
I wiped my head with the towel and looked up.
The New Reflection
For a few seconds, I didn’t recognize myself.
Then I did.
No frame around the face.
No habit to adjust.
No distraction.
Just eyes meeting eyes.
I touched my scalp — smooth, cool, unfamiliar.
Instead of shock… I felt calm.
Not dramatic, not emotional — just a simple, steady peace. As if I had removed a layer I didn’t know I was carrying.
The same room.
The same mirror.
But a different feeling standing in front of it.
I smiled — a genuine, unprepared smile.
Hair grows back.
But that quiet morning, standing barefoot in my bedroom, watching myself change in real time…
that moment felt permanent.
Because for once, the mirror didn’t show how I looked to the world.
It showed how I felt to myself. ✨