Fractured Mirror

The sky outside was still streaked with purples and deep oranges, that strange twilight hour when shadows stretched but night hadn’t quite arrived. In the living space of the Baxter Building’s private quarters, Sue Richards sat alone, the lights off, fingers idly fiddling with her wedding and engagement rings. The silence gnawed at her thoughts louder than any argument could.

A soft tap echoed through the apartment.

She turned, pulse tightening. Who would be visiting now?

Approaching the door, she glanced through the peephole—standard on each residential level of the Baxter Building. A tall, poised woman stood just outside, wearing dark round sunglasses despite the fading light, and a simple slate-blue sweatshirt zipped just below her collarbone. Her platinum-blonde hair fell in waves, framing a confident but gentle expression.

Sue cracked the door. “Yes?”

The woman gave a small smile. “Apologies. I was just visiting a friend a few floors down. But when I saw the light from your unit and… well, you just looked like you could use a kind word.”

“I’m fine,” Sue answered too quickly.

“You look like someone trying very hard to say that,” the woman said softly.

Something about her voice made Sue hesitate. It wasn’t familiarity—it was how intentional she sounded. Like she was listening deeper than surface words.

Sue’s tone stiffened. “Can I help you with something?”

The woman leaned against the doorframe casually, still smiling—but something in her grin was slightly… amused. “Sometimes, it’s just about being seen. Not by the world. But by someone who actually _sees _you. Appreciates your strength. Your shape. The many faces you wear—even the ones you hide from yourself.”

Sue blinked.

“I know how hard it is,” the woman continued. “Trying to be the perfect wife, mother, heroine. All while feeling the hunger for… something else.”

Sue’s hand fell to the door latch again.

The woman’s tone remained silky. “When was the last time he—your man—told you you were beautiful? Or strong? Or dangerous?”

The words dug somewhere deeper than Sue expected.

“I’m closing the door now,” she whispered.

The woman smiled again. “Of course. But just remember… you deserve to be seen. All of you.”

Sue closed the door slowly, the latch clicking back in place. She rested her forehead against the wood, breath caught halfway in her throat.

Only once the footsteps faded did Mystique—her disguise dissolving slowly into blue skin and copper-red hair—turn the corner toward the elevator, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.