Tale#17: Bedtime Tales: Episode5: The Mirror That Didn’t Speak| Tuesday
The way we treat others reflects who we are inside
It was one of those evenings where the air in the house felt… heavy.
Dinner sat cold on the table, untouched by one small, quiet girl.
Sara had her arms folded tightly across her chest, her face as stormy as a sky before rain. Her pink water bottle, the one with the dancing unicorn, stood on the table like it was waiting for her. But she didn’t even glance at it.
Zayn looked across the table, chewing slowly, then whispered to Aymen,
“She hasn’t said a single word since we got home.”
Aymen nodded softly. She had noticed.
It started on the walk back from school. Sara had stomped ahead, lips pressed together, eyes unusually shiny. And when Aymen asked her what happened, all she got was a cold shrug and silence.
Now, as the evening stretched on and bedtime came closer, the house was quiet. Too quiet.
Sara sat curled on her bed, hugging her plush panda. Her bedroom nightlight—shaped like a crescent moon—cast a soft blue glow on her wall. The books on her shelf sat neatly stacked. Her slippers were tucked perfectly beside the bed. But the princess of this quiet room was not at peace.
A soft knock on the door broke the silence.
“Can I come in, Your Highness?” Aymen teased gently.
Sara didn’t answer, but she didn’t say no either.
Aymen walked in, carrying a mug of warm milk and honey. She placed it on the nightstand, sat beside her daughter, and said nothing at first.
Just sat.
After a long pause, she said quietly:
“You know... sometimes, when our heart feels too full, it helps to empty a little into someone else’s.”
Sara sniffled, her voice a whisper.
“Amara said I was bossy.”
Aymen turned to her. “Amara from your science group?”
Sara nodded.
“I told her how to do our volcano project. I just wanted it to be good! But she said I never listen and I always act like I’m in charge. In front of everyone.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.
“I’m not bossy,” she mumbled. “I’m just… trying to help.”
Aymen placed her arm around Sara’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.
“You know,” she said, “that reminds me of a story. A very old one. About a girl who didn’t like what she saw—or rather, didn’t see—when she looked in her mirror.”
Sara blinked.
“Like… a fairy tale?”
“Something like that,” Aymen smiled.
“Let me tell you about the Princess and the Mirror That Didn’t Speak.”
The Princess and the Silent Mirror
“Long ago,” Aymen began, “in a far-off kingdom nestled between shimmering lakes and mountains that blushed pink at sunset, there lived a young princess named Elara. She was clever, brave, and had a voice that could fill the grand halls with laughter. Her father, the king, gifted her a magical mirror on her seventh birthday.”
Sara sat up a little straighter, intrigued.
“This mirror,” Aymen continued, “was unlike any other. It didn’t just show you your reflection. It spoke to you. Every time Elara stood before it and greeted it kindly, it responded. ‘Good morning, Princess Elara. You look thoughtful today.’ Or ‘Your heart shines brighter than your crown today.’”
Zayn, who had tiptoed into the room with his comic book, now sat cross-legged near the doorway, quietly listening.
“But there was a secret,” Aymen said, lowering her voice. “The mirror only spoke when it was spoken to with kindness. If Elara was gentle, humble, or curious—it glowed and answered back. But if she was harsh, rude, or proud—it fell silent.”
Sara tilted her head.
“Did she always speak kindly?”
“At first, yes,” Aymen said. “But as she grew older, Elara started noticing how everyone obeyed her quickly. She started liking the power of her voice more than the warmth of it. She told people what to do. How to speak. Where to go. Her friends stopped laughing around her. Her servants grew quiet. Even her cat, Bellamy, ran away from her footsteps.”
Zayn snorted.
“She scared the cat?”
“She scared everyone,” Aymen said.
“One morning, she stood in front of her mirror and said, ‘Good morning, Mirror. You may tell me how brilliant I look today.’”
A pause.
“But the mirror said nothing.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “It didn’t speak?”
Aymen shook her head.
*“Not a word. She tapped it. Cleaned it. Even shouted at it. But the mirror remained quiet. Day after day, she tried—each time a little softer, a little sadder. Until one evening, she sat before it and whispered, ‘I don’t know why everyone’s gone quiet. Even you. I just wanted to be heard…’”
She swallowed hard.
“And the mirror finally spoke: ‘When your heart became loud, your kindness went silent. Speak gently… and you’ll hear me again.’”
The room was still.
Sara hugged her panda tighter.
“Did the princess change?”
Aymen nodded. “She did. She began asking her friends how they felt instead of telling them what to do. She started listening. And every time she softened her voice, the mirror shone a little brighter. Until one day, it spoke again, as warm as sunlight: ‘You’re back, Elara. And your heart is softer than before.’”
Sara sat quietly, processing it all.
“So… maybe I was bossy.”
Aymen kissed the top of her head.
“Wanting to help isn’t wrong, my love. But sometimes, how we help matters even more than what we say.”
Zayn grinned.
“So Sara’s like Princess Elara.”
Sara frowned. “Not exactly. I didn’t scare a cat.”
Aymen laughed.
“But you can choose, starting tomorrow, to be the kind of princess whose mirror speaks again. Because how you treat others? It always reflects back.”
That night, Sara whispered a small sorry in her du’a before bed.
And in her dream, a glowing mirror whispered back,
“You’re learning. And that’s what matters.”