Something has changed.

Simba knew the moment he walked into the room.
His usual mirror was there — same frame, same suspicious gleam, same highly questionable reflection.
But this time… it had a crack.

A hairline fracture, running diagonally across the bottom corner. Barely visible. Definitely not there yesterday. (Simba checks. Obsessively.)

He approached slowly. Ears up. Nose twitching.
Paused exactly three inches from the glass — his designated high-alert distance.

Sniff.
Sniff-sniff.
Huff.

Then, the stare.

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was confirmation. Simba looked at that crack like he’d known it would appear eventually — like all his tail-twitching, floor-sniffing, couch-perching surveillance had finally paid off.

And the weirdest part?
The crack wasn’t reflected in the mirror version.

Real mirror: cracked.
Mirror mirror: flawless.

Simba backed up slowly. One paw at a time. Then bolted down the hallway like he had to warn the others. (There are no others.)

He returned minutes later with a piece of lint in his fur and a very determined expression.

I guess this is happening.