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.

The envelope felt heavier in my hands than it should have.

I read the letter again.

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

A chill crawled up my spine.

Who sent this?

I glanced around the kitchen, half-expecting someone to jump out from the shadows. Nothing. Just the distant hum of the refrigerator and the sound of my sister's laughter from upstairs.

But the unease in my gut wouldn't go away.

Was this a threat? A warning? Or some sick joke?

I flipped the envelope over, looking for any clue. No return address. No name. Just those ominous words typed out on a blank sheet of paper.

I exhaled sharply.

I had to walk to my mom's room and give her the anonymous letter to read.

But she was just calm and she said this did not matter, we try harder to win the crown at most.

I felt relieved.

I had a competition to win. And I wouldn't let some anonymous letter throw me off.

With my mum giving me back the letter, I glanced at it once and left to keep it in the drawer.

I had bigger things to worry about.

One thought was just on my mind of winning this competition for my family reputation.

The Miss Celestial Crown competition was my last chance.

If I lost again, I wasn't sure I'd have the strength to keep going.

The pressure was suffocating. This was the biggest stage I had ever stepped on. Contestants from all over the country, some with years of experience, we're here to win.

And I had to beat them.

For weeks, I pushed myself harder than ever before.

I perfected my routines, studied every past winner, memorized every possible interview question. I worked on my smile until my cheeks hurt, my walk until my heels sapped.

I barely ate. I barely slept.

But I had to win.

Because this time, failure wasn't an option.

The Competition Begins

The day of the competition, I panicked a lot, but my mum was so positive and reassured to not let myself down.

I stepped onto the stage with a confidence I didn't fully feel.

The audience was massive. Cameras flashed. Judges watched. My every move was being scrutinized.

I could hear my mother's voice in my head.

"Perfect posture, Lisa. No mistakes."

The first round,the runway walk went smoothly. Afterward I was in the dressing room, my mom stepped in warning me to showcase my talents for the second round and we must take the crown home.

The second round, the talent showcase was a success.

I know I did very well but I needed to see my mom to let know of that. She came looking happy. But she said I have to decide my fate from this last round.

Then came the final round. The one that had always decided my fate.

The Q&A.

A judge looked at me, expression unreadable. "Lisa, if you win this crown, what would you do to empower young women?"

This was my moment.

I smiled, every word rehearsed, every sentence calculated. "I believe young women need to be seen, heard, and supported. I would use this platform to"

But before I could finish, I saw something.

In the audience.

A man in a dark suit. Watching me. Unblinking.

I faltered. Just for a second.

It was barely noticeable. But I knew.

The judges knew.

And when the final announcement came, I already saw it coming.

I had lost. Again.

Not even runner-up.

Fourth place.

The same sick, twisted feeling from my past failures came rushing back.

But this time, it was worse.

Because this time, I had done everything right.

So why had I lost?

The Truth Behind the Curtain

I barely made it off the stage before I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

But then I heard something.

Two of the contestants whispered nearby.

I wasn't going to eavesdrop until I heard a name that made my blood run cold.

Vivian Hayes.

Her rival.

The same girl who beat me last time.

I froze.

"She got the win handed to her," one of them scoffed. "Her family paid for it."

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"What do you mean?" the other girl asked.

"She was never supposed to win. Lisa was."

I sucked in a sharp breath. Bribery.

It all made sense now.

My mother's impossible expectations. My past failures. The way I always lost, no matter how hard I worked.

The game was rigged from the start.

And this time, I had proof.

I wasn't going to stay silent.

I took everything I had recordings, testimonies from other contestants who had heard similar things and reported it.

I went to the Pageant Ethics Committee with my mom.

They listened. They investigated.

And finally they confirmed it.

Bribes had been exchanged. The competition was corrupt.

They took action. Judges were fired. The pageant system was exposed.

It was a small victory.

But not the one I wanted.

Because one thing couldn't be changed.

My position.

I was still not the winner.

The crown still wasn't mine.

And that was when I realized something terrifying.

Even when you expose the truth, sometimes, it doesn't change the past.

That night, I returned home, exhausted but determined.

As I walked into my room, I noticed something.

Another envelope.

This one wasn't left on the counter.

It was on my pillow.

Someone had been in my room.

Heart pounding, I picked it up and ripped it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Just one sentence.

"You should have stayed quiet."

I swallowed hard.

This wasn't over.

I stared at the note, my hands trembling.

"You should have stayed quiet."

The letters were bold, sharp, like they had been typed with force.

My heart pounding . Someone had been in my room.

I scanned the windows. Locked. The door had been shut when I arrived. No signs of a break-in.

Who left this?

A warning? A threat?

Or a reminder that my battle wasn't over?

I grabbed the paper and stuffed it deep into my drawer. I couldn't let this scare me.

I had already lost three competitions. I was running out of chances.

I needed to focus.

Because in just a few weeks, I had another opportunity.

One that would either break me or finally change everything.

A Chance Encounter

The fourth beauty contest was bigger than the last. More sponsors, more judges, more competitors.

I refused to let the past haunt me.

This time, I wouldn't let anyone manipulate my fate.

During preparations, I arrived at the practice hall early, determined to perfect my performance.

And that's when I saw him.

Liam Steve.

Tall. Lean muscle. Tousled dark hair.

I didn't know who he was at first only that he stood near the entrance, hands tucked into his pockets, watching me with unreadable eyes.

I should have ignored him.

But something about his gaze made my skin prickle.

"You're practicing too hard," he finally said.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He nodded toward my feet. "Your stance is too stiff. You're thinking too much. That's why you keep losing."

Anger flared in my chest. Who was this guy?

"You don't even know me," I snapped.

He smirked. "I don't have to. I can see it."

I clenched my fists. "Are you a judge or something?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Just someone who knows how this world works."

I scoffed. "Yeah? And what makes you an expert?"

His smirk deepened. "Let's just say I know a thing or two about games being rigged."

My breath caught.

The way he said it like he knew exactly what had happened to me sent a chill down my spine.

Before I could ask more, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Who was he?

And why did I feel like he wasn't a stranger to my story?

Another Failure, Another Fall

The fourth contest was brutal.

Every girl there was desperate to win. The competition was fierce, and I gave it everything. My best walk. My best speech. My best performance.

And yet

I lost. Again.

The moment the winner's name was announced, my stomach twisted.

I wanted to scream.

To run.

To give up.

Why was I always one step behind?

Tears burned my eyes as I exited the stage, forcing myself to keep my chin up.

That's when I saw him again.

Liam.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like he had been expecting this outcome.

"You don't look surprised," I muttered.

He shrugged. "Because I'm not."

My hands curled into fists. "You think I'm just not good enough?"

He tilted his head. "I think you haven't seen the real game yet."

Something about his words sent a shiver through me.

But before I could ask him what he meant, he was gone again.

The Final Battle

I didn't want to try again.

After four consecutive losses, my heart wasn't in it anymore.

But then I remembered.

The years of pain. The sacrifices. The humiliation.

And the people who had tried to silence me.

Whoever left that note in my room?

Whoever wanted me to quit?

They expected me to fail.

And I refused to give them that satisfaction.

So I signed up for my fifth beauty contest.

This time, I trained smarter. Harder.

And when the competition day arrived, I felt something different.

A calmness. A certainty.

This time, I wouldn't be stopped.

Liam's Warning

Two nights before the final contest, I ran into Liam again.

This time, he wasn't smirking.

"Lisa," he said, voice low, "be careful."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

His expression darkened. "I don't know who you pissed off, but they don't want you to win."

My stomach dropped.

"What do you know?" I whispered.

Liam hesitated, "Just... watch your back."

Then, just like before he was gone.

The fifth contest was different.

Because I used my past experiences to learn harder to understand everything about beauty contest.

The moment I stepped onto the stage, I felt it.

The shift.

The power.

I wasn't the same girl who had lost before.

I wasn't afraid anymore.

I didn't flinch when the judges spoke. I didn't hesitate during the Q&A.

For the first time, I wasn't competing out of fear.

I was competing for myself.

And when the final announcement came, I barely breathed.

Then

The next thing I heard was

"And the winner is... Lisa Throng!"

For a moment, I couldn't move.

Then the realization hit me like a wave.

I won.

I finally won, after so many years of trial.

The cheers erupted around me, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat.

I clutched the crown as they placed it on my head.

And for the first time in five years, I felt unstoppable, like a princess among the universe.

The night of my victory, I returned to my hotel room, still buzzing from the win.

I set my crown on the dresser and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion finally catching up to me.

That's when my phone buzzed.

A message.

From an unknown number.

I hesitated before opening it.

There was no text.

Just an image.

Fuzzy surveillance photos of me.

Standing backstage at the contest.

But the terrifying part?

I wasn't alone.

There was a figure in the shadows.

Watching me.

And I had never noticed them.

My breath hooked.

Who was watching me?

And more importantly what did they want?

I stared at the photographs scattered across my bed, my fingers trembling as I picked up the top one. The image captured the moment after my second beauty contest loss, my face streaked with tears, my shoulders slumped in utter defeat. No one should have had this. It wasn't a photo taken on stage or in front of an audience. This was private.

I swallowed hard, flipping through the rest. Each one documented my failures, my struggles, my lowest moments. Who had been watching me closely? And why send these to me now?

My heart pounded as I reached for my phone. The number that had been called earlier was still untraceable. I clenched my jaw. Someone was playing a game with me, and I had no idea what the rules were. I called a cybersecurity expert but found out the email does not exist. I was so surprised and shocked.

Who could have done this?