Fierce.

"It's okay." She said. She knew it wasn't, but she said it, anyways. The elevator wasn't working and her office was on the fifth floor.  "That's fine", she told herself, as she ran up the stairs panting. Her husband called her on the way and they had another argument for the next five minutes, so they could decide who picked up Claire from preschool, after which they concluded it would be her. Fine, she told herself. Martha, the secretary came in, told her that she had to meet some new clients at six o' clock. She described the situation as 'urgent' and warned her not to miss it. That's okay, she said. Fixed a meeting with her doctor at seven so she reached home by eight, one hour being enough to make some dinner for the family. Everything's great, and into place, she told herself. Doctor calls at five, tells her to come at eight, something major, it seems. "Okay Doctor" she says. Eight o'clock doctor tells her that she may have malignant brain tumor. Need an operation. Cannot say how long. She doesn't say a word this time.
Doctor: "Ma'am?"
She: "Yeah."
Doctor: "I'm sorry."
She: "Well, It's okay."
She walks out of the hospital goes home, makes the family some dinner. And goes into her room. Looks into me as she sees herself, smiles, and at the same time cries, as she makes herself believe, that everything that is happening to her is okay. I see her whisper, those two words to her self again, and again and again, till she believes them. One blow, and I will break into pieces below someone's feet. But this woman, she won't budge. If I could tell her, how strong and proud I feel only with her reflection on me.  I feel like her. But mirrors can't speak. I am glass, but she?
She, my god, is diamond.
-Meha.