The Mirror's Lie

“Absolutely not,” Lena said flatly, crossing her arms like a fortress. “This is insane. Completely insane!” Across the couch, Lana’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “Insane? Really? It’s just… a little swap. You pretend to be me for a few flights. I get my dream safari. Harmless!” “Harmless?” Lena scoffed. “Last time we swapped, I nearly got expelled for failing your math test. And you got caught pretending to be me in choir, and let me remind you—” she raised a finger, eyes narrowing, “—you didn’t even try to hit the right notes.” “Oh, come on,” Lana waved her off with a grin. “That was, what, twelve years ago? We were kids. We’re adults now. Responsible.” Lena arched a brow. “Responsible? You just asked me to commit fraud by impersonating a certified cabin crew member on international flights.” “Well…” Lana leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a juicy secret, “technically, it’s not fraud if no one finds out.” Lena’s mouth dropped open. “That’s literally the definition of fraud!” “Semantics,” Lana said breezily, reaching for her phone. “Anyway, it’s not like you’ll actually do anything complicated. I’ll set everything up, tell you exactly what to say, what to wear, where to stand. Easy.” “Easy?” Lena repeated, her voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself? I’ve never even been on one of your flights. What happens if there’s turbulence, or someone faints, or—God forbid—an emergency landing?” Lana gave her most dazzling smile, the one that usually meant trouble. “You’ll do what you always do. Stay calm, be practical, save the day. You’re way better at this serious stuff than me.” Lena shook her head, burying her face in her hands. “You are unbelievable.” “I know.” Lana leaned closer, her voice suddenly pleading. “Please, Len. Please. You have to let me go. This safari isn’t just a trip. It’s THE trip. I’ve been dreaming about it forever. Lions, elephants, sunsets in the savannah. I need this. And you know for how long I tried to secure a place for this specific trip. I was just lucky that a spot became free at the last moment. Just my damn roster coordinator who refuses to allow me time off, despite finding others to swap my flights. Some BS company rules.” “And apparently, I need to risk jail time to make it happen,” Lena muttered. Lana grinned, sensing the crack in her sister’s wall. “You don’t do anything fun, Lena. Ever. It’s always work, books, quiet evenings. Boring, boring, boring.” “I like boring!” Lena shot back. “Boring means safe. Boring means not getting arrested for impersonating my reckless twin.” Lana clasped her hands dramatically, her voice dipping into a theatrical whine. “You’re going to let your poor sister waste away this opportunity of a lifetime, without joy? While you sit here being… responsible?” Lena gave her a side-eye. “You’re already having enough fun for both of us. Pretty sure you’ve used up my lifetime quota, too.” Lana smirked. “And I plan on using some more.” She leaned forward, lowering her tone into something sly and playful. “Besides… don’t you ever wonder what it’s like? To be me? To walk through the cabin with everyone’s eyes on you, to smile and flirt, to be admired and adored? You’d be amazing at it.” Lena blinked. “I’d be amazing at… smiling at strangers while pushing a drink cart?” “Exactly!” Lana clapped her hands. “You’d kill it.” Lena groaned. “This is a bad, bad idea. The worst. The absolute worst.” “But…” Lana pressed, her grin widening. Lena pointed a finger at her. “Don’t say it.” “You’re thinking about it,” Lana sang, bouncing on the couch. “You wouldn’t argue this much if you weren’t already halfway convinced.” “I’m not convinced. I’m horrified.” “And yet…” Lena gave her a long, withering stare, but her sister’s hopeful eyes made her chest tighten. Lana really did want this—badly. And, if Lena was honest, maybe she was a little curious how it would be to play Lana just for a little time. Just a little. Finally, with a long exhale, Lena slumped back into the cushions. “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. But only because you’ll never shut up otherwise. And if I end up in prison, you’re smuggling me pastries every visiting day.” Lana squealed, throwing her arms around her sister. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! You’re the best sister ever!” “I’m the dumbest sister ever,” Lena mumbled into her hair. Lana pulled back, beaming like she’d just won the lottery. “Trust me, you won’t regret this.” “Oh, I already do.” They sat there for a moment, twin faces so alike yet so different—one glowing with excitement, the other heavy with dread. For Lena, it felt like stepping into one of their childhood schemes all over again, except the stakes weren’t detention this time. They were sky-high. Literally. -- The apartment door closed behind Lana with a cheerful slam, her laughter still echoing in the hallway. Lena leaned against the back of the couch, exhaling slowly. Her sister was a hurricane—bright, chaotic, unstoppable. Being in her orbit always left Lena both amused and utterly drained, as though she’d been running in circles without moving an inch. She dragged herself to the bathroom, deciding that nothing sounded better than a long, hot shower. Steam filled the room in minutes, curling against the tiled walls and softening the edges of her exhaustion. Lena let the water wash over her, loosening the tightness in her shoulders. By the time she turned off the shower, she felt almost human again. She reached for her towel, wiping away the fog clinging to the mirror. And there she was. Her reflection stared back at her, damp hair tumbling over her shoulders, skin flushed from the heat. White porcelain skin, long dark hair with a natural wave, large gray eyes framed with lashes so thick she rarely needed mascara. Defined brows, a straight little nose, lips full and soft with a natural pinkness. High cheekbones she’d inherited from their mother. She knew she was beautiful—objectively, undeniably. People told her often enough. Yet somehow, when she compared herself to Lana, beauty wasn’t the same thing as impact. Despite being identical, they were worlds apart. Even their mother had sometimes struggled to tell them apart as children. But people never confused them for long. Lena was the steady one. The cautious one. She thought before she acted, planned before she leaped. Her days were filled with books, order, routines, the quiet satisfaction of staying in her lane. Lana was the opposite: vibrant, magnetic, drawing people in like moths to a flame. She laughed loudly, lived recklessly, and seemed to burn brighter than everyone else in the room. Trouble followed her like a shadow, yet so did admiration. Lena’s gaze softened as she thought back to the night everything had changed. The night their mother slipped away, leaving them orphans at just nineteen. Breast cancer had stolen her so quickly, so cruelly. The memory of hospital walls, the smell of antiseptic, and the frailty of the woman who had once been their anchor still haunted Lena. And in those final days, her mother had taken her hand, her voice weak but urgent. “Promise me, Lena,” she had whispered. “Promise me you’ll look after Lana. She’s not like you. She’s a free spirit, too trusting, too fearless. She’ll need someone to protect her. Be there for her. Always.” And Lena had promised, tears streaming down her face, clutching her mother’s hand as if that would tether her to life. She never forgot. So when Lana threw herself into the world headfirst—into wild nights, reckless adventures, impulsive choices, crazy relationships — Lena tried not to judge. She understood. Everyone grieves differently. For Lana, it meant living every moment as if it were her last. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, she always said. Better to regret nothing than to waste time wishing. Lena sighed, touching her fingers lightly to the cool glass of the mirror. She had kept her promise. She always would. Even if it meant stepping into Lana’s shoes—her uniform, her job, her life—for a while. Even if it meant breaking every rule she lived by. Because she had promised. And for Lana, she would do anything. -- The next few days blurred together in a whirlwind of “training sessions.” At least, that’s what Lana called them. For Lena, it felt more like boot camp mixed with chaos. “How to smile without showing all your teeth.” “How to walk down the aisle without bumping the cart.” “How to pour drinks on a plane without spilling them into someone’s lap.” By the end of the first day, Lena’s head was spinning with safety demonstrations, airline greetings, and seatbelt instructions. “You’re a quick learner,” Lana said encouragingly while sprawled across the couch, scrolling her phone. “Just don’t overthink it. No one pays that much attention.” “Overthink it?!” Lena hissed, clutching the safety card she’d been forced to memorize. “Lana, these are literal life-and-death instructions. If there’s an emergency, people are going to expect me to know what I’m doing!” Lana just grinned. “Relax. What are the odds of an emergency? A million to one.” “Don’t say that,” Lena muttered darkly. “Now it’ll happen.” By the end of each day, Lena was exhausted. Her brain felt crammed with information, and her body ached from endless practice—walking, bowing slightly, mimicking that effortless air of cheerful hospitality Lana wore so naturally. On the last morning, Lena stood in front of the mirror in her sister’s cabin crew uniform. The navy blue skirt and blazer fit perfectly—it was hers, after all—but on Lena’s body, it felt strange. Foreign. Like slipping into someone else’s skin. She smoothed down the fabric, tugged at the collar, and stared at her reflection. Same face, same body… yet she didn’t feel like herself at all. Lana breezed into the room with her usual energy, sipping coffee as if she hadn’t just sentenced her sister to potential disaster. “Well, look at you!” she sang, circling Lena like an appraiser admiring a prized painting. “You’re perfect. No one will ever know the difference.” Lena bit her lip, uneasy. “Are you sure there isn’t… something else I should know? Anything you haven’t told me?” Lana’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Yes. Just one thing.” Lena braced herself. “What?” “Loosen up. Have some fun. Who knows…” Lana winked. “You might even lose your v-card while you’re at it.” Heat exploded in Lena’s cheeks. “Lana!” she gasped, spinning to face her sister. Lana burst out laughing, nearly spilling her coffee. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. You’re practically glowing red!” “That’s not funny,” Lena muttered, glaring at her own reflection. “Oh, it’s hilarious,” Lana countered between giggles. “Honestly, Lena, you’re twenty-four, not thirteen. What’s the big deal? A little turbulence between the sheets might do you good.” Lena groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Not everyone is eager to jump from one relationship to another like you. I’m waiting for the right guy.” “The right guy,” Lana repeated in mock seriousness, eyes twinkling. “What is he, a unicorn? A knight on a white horse? Newsflash, sis—no one’s perfect. You’re going to be waiting forever.” “That’s fine,” Lena snapped, though her blush betrayed her fluster. “I’d rather wait forever than settle for… for… fun.” Lana threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Lena. Sometimes I think you were born eighty years old.” “And sometimes I think you were born without a brake pedal,” Lena shot back, surprising herself with the bite in her voice. For a second, silence hung between them—then Lana grinned wider, delighted. “See? You can be feisty when you want to. You’ll do just fine.” Lena shook her head, adjusting her blazer one last time. Her stomach was in knots, her mind buzzing with nerves, but there was no turning back now. With her sister’s teasing laughter still ringing in her ears, Lena picked up her bag and headed for the door. The airport—and her very first flight as “Lana”—was waiting.