"Lilly, oh Lilly... Lillyana, what are you doing? Come for dinner, dear!" Lillyana's mother's voice pulled her gently from the hazy remnants of sleep. She sat up, blinking away the sleepiness. "Yes, Mom! I'll be right there!"
That evening, the family gathered around the dinner table, seeking a moment of normalcy. Lilly's father, always the life of the party, cracked jokes and shared funny stories, bringing smiles to all their faces—Lilly's and her mother's included. Her mother, as usual, was attentive and caring, piling Lilly's plate high with food: strawberry chicken salad, baked potatoes, grilled salmon with lemon butter, and for dessert, sweet caramel flan, her favorite. Lilly ate heartily, savoring every bite of the familiar comforts of home.
As the evening went on, they sprawled comfortably on the couch, watching a movie that filled the room with laughter until late into the night. The house felt cocooned in warmth and safety—so different from the stark, unsettling reality she had faced just hours before.
The next morning, Lillyana awoke feeling lighter, her mind clearer than it had been for days. She padded down to breakfast, smiling at her mother as she busied herself with coffee and toast. After finishing her meal, Lilly kissed her mother goodbye and started for the front door.
But just as she reached the car, she paused. "Dad, wait a moment, I forgot my book in my room. I'll grab it quickly!" Her father nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "All right, but don't rush now."
Lilly hurried back inside, her thoughts still tangled with the strange, unsettling events of the previous day. The "glasses of truth" lay forgotten in a dark corner of her room, flickering with an eerie light. Every time she touched them, she felt a sudden wave of unease. Part of her wanted to discard them outright, but she hesitated—there was a strange pull she couldn't quite shake.
As she walked down the hallway, Lilly's phone buzzed with a reminder—today was a one-hour math test she had completely forgotten about. Panic surged through her. Math had always been a struggle—numbers were daunting, and formulas seemed to dance just out of reach. She stared at the empty test paper in front of her, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest.
Just then, her eyes landed on the glowing object in her desk drawer—the "glasses of truth." The temptation to try them was almost irresistible. Maybe they could help her through the test, reveal the answers without the struggle. She glanced around the classroom cautiously, then, with a quick sigh, slipped them on.
The moment they settled on her nose, everything changed. The world seemed sharper, more vivid. Lilly looked down at the test paper—answers she hadn't seen before were already filled in. She felt a mix of relief and guilt—relief that she might pass the test, guilt that she had taken an unfair advantage.
Sweat dotted her forehead as she copied the answers down. By the time she finished, she felt as though she had cheated—taking a shortcut that didn't belong to her. The bell rang, and Lilly felt a rush of conflicting emotions—relief that she had escaped disaster, and fear that she had crossed a line.
As her classmates filed out of the classroom, Lilly sat frozen, clutching the test paper. What if they found out? What if using the glasses got her expelled? But she also felt a strange allure, a need to keep testing the boundaries of what she could do with them. The decision gnawed at her—was she making a mistake by keeping them?
As Lilly walked through the hallways of the private school, the weight of the decision to keep the "glasses of truth" still hung over her. The school was prestigious, filled with the children of wealthy families, and it had only been a few months since Lilly had transferred here. Her family had recently moved to this area from another region, and while Lilly appreciated the opportunity to attend such a well-regarded institution, she still felt like an outsider.
The students here were different—polished, confident, and often exclusive. Lilly hadn't quite fit in, but she tried. She had a few friends, including Jenni, Lana, and Sophie—or so she thought.
Today, as she walked toward the cafeteria, Lilly decided to test the glasses again. Slipping them on, she was suddenly able to hear thoughts—not out loud, but whispers in the air around her, coming from Jenni, Lana, and Sophie. At first, it was a subtle shift—just an odd feeling, like a shadow creeping along her thoughts. But then, it became clearer.
Jenni's thoughts rang loud and clear: "Why is she even here? She's just lucky she has money. I bet she's starting to think she belongs here now. She thinks she's prettier than me, doesn't she? I hate how she always gets attention without trying." Lilly's heart sank. Jenni, her so-called best friend, hated her.
And then, Lana's voice—soft but sharp, tinged with jealousy:
"She's so naïve. I wonder if she even realizes we only keep her around because her family is rich. She's just another tool to make us look good." Lilly's stomach twisted in unease. She had been so blind, so trusting.
Sophie's thoughts were no better, though tinged with a hint of regret:
"I'm only friends with her because it's good for my image. I can't believe she doesn't see through us. She's so gullible, thinking we're all actually friends."
Lilly felt a cold wave of betrayal wash over her. She had always believed Jenni, Lana, and Sophie to be her friends—close friends, even. But now, the truth was clear: they didn't care for her at all. They had only tolerated her presence because of her family's wealth. They were using her.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, the weight of the glasses suddenly becoming unbearable. Lilly had never felt so alone in a room full of people before. She realized now that the reason they had been friendly toward her was never out of genuine affection. They had simply been playing a game, and she had been the unwitting pawn.
Despite the heavy realization, Lilly couldn't quite bring herself to confront them. What would she say? How could she explain that she knew their thoughts? She wasn't sure if she even wanted to. Maybe, for now, it was better to keep the truth to herself.
As Lilly walked into the cafeteria, her mind swirled with new understanding. She had never felt more out of place. The three girls she had trusted most in this school had been using her from the very beginning, all while hiding behind masks of friendliness. She had been nothing more than a tool to them—until the truth had been revealed, thanks to the eerie glasses she had been hesitant to throw away.
Now, as she sat down at a table by herself, her gaze drifting over the students who had once seemed so welcoming, she felt a deep sense of isolation. It wasn't just the betrayal of Jenni, Lana, and Sophie that hurt—it was the realization that she had been surrounded by people who saw her as nothing more than a means to an end.
The glasses had given her the truth, but the truth had come with a heavy price.
Was she making a mistake by holding onto them? Or was she simply protecting herself from failure?