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as madness. But soon, she found herself longing for their
conversations, for the way his gaze lingered on her.
One evening, the wind howled, making the
flickering candles dance wildly. “If you love me, look at
the mirror and touch it,” Beuy said. Delami hesitated. It
was insane. He was not real. And yet, she had fallen for
him. With a deep breath, she reached out. The glass was
cold. Then, suddenly, an icy force pulled her in. A
chilling scream echoed through the empty house.
A moment later, silence filled the room. The
mirror’s surface rippled before turning smooth again.
Delami was gone. Only her faint reflection remained,
standing beside Beuy, her eyes wide in shock before
softening in acceptance.
Years passed, and the house became nothing
more than a forgotten ruin. No one dared to enter, for
rumors spread of a ghostly moan and whispers of
laughter coming from the mirror. Some who peeked into
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