Lysander stood in the quiet of the ballroom, his mind racing as Elara's words echoed in his head. You're starting to see what truly matters. But what was it that mattered now? He had spent his entire life chasing something he could touch but never hold a perfect image, a flawless reflection. Now that the mask was beginning to crack, he was unsure of what was underneath.
The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable but not entirely unwelcome. Elara stepped forward, her expression gentle but resolute.
"You know," she began, "we all have cracks, Lysander. We just don't always see them until they're impossible to ignore. But that doesn't mean you're broken."
He blinked, surprised by the softness in her voice. "How do you know what I'm feeling?" Lysander asked, unable to mask the bitterness creeping into his tone. "How could you possibly understand what it's like to have everything you've ever known your entire identity start to slip away?"
Elara's gaze softened. "Because I've been there, Lysander. I've lived in a world where beauty is everything, where my worth was measured by how I looked, how others saw me. But one day, I realized something: I was more than that. I had to learn to see myself differently without relying on the image in the mirror."
Lysander scoffed, glancing down at his hands. "It's easy for you to say. You never had everything I've worked for."
"No," Elara agreed, "but I've lost what you fear to lose. And I'm still standing."
Her words hung in the air, unsettling and yet oddly comforting. Lysander looked up at her, the walls around his heart slowly beginning to crack. For the first time, he was unsure whether he was angry at her or grateful. Maybe a little of both.
"So what do I do now?" Lysander finally asked, his voice quieter, vulnerable in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.
Elara smiled. "You start by accepting the cracks. Because they're not the end of you, Lysander. They're the beginning of something real."