Sometimes forgiveness doesn’t arrive as a big, heroic gesture — it begins quietly, in a small child who stops clenching their fists and finally reaches for the leaf. In this mirror, you don’t have to excuse anyone. You simply meet your own innocence and let it breathe again.
When they told you it was your fault, something inside you learned to stay quiet.
But shame was never born in you — it was placed there.
This mirror is where you finally give that child back their voice.
Regret lives in every closed door, every word unsent, every touch withheld. Yet the mirror whispers: it is never too late to begin again.
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