Right now, while talking to her husband, Sahil, Zoya wasn’t sure if her life had started or reached a standstill after marriage. On the whole, he was a hard-working and generous man who didn’t have a wandering eye — a rare combination, if you ask me. Who am I? Well, you’ll know soon enough. For now, consider me a mind-reading fly on the wall.
Witches shouldn’t have to grow old. It’s an embarrassment really that even with all this power, I can’t make a mirror worship me! Megan waved her hands in frustration. Earlier, her reflection boasted a flawless skin with big round emerald green eyes, small nose and plump lips that sat perfectly on a glowing dusky tone. Now, signs of aging had caught up with her. Absentmindedly, Megan pressed her index and middle fingers over her crow’s feet, as if the very action would smooth away the wrinkles. She despised her drooping eyebrows, hallowing cheeks, and sagging skin. With a deep, she picked up a black bed sheet and threw it over her mirror.