Unexpected
Awakening
Unexpected Awakening
Redefining the Boundaries of Identity, Love, and Belonging
By Karissa Anne Sterling
© 2024 by Karissa Anne Sterling. All rights reserved. First Edition, 2024 ISBN: 978-1-234567-89-0 No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Published by Sterling Imprint Books. Printed in the United States of America Cover design by [Cover Designer Name] Edited by Alaina RayDedication
To all the souls who dare to redefine themselves, to step boldly into the unknown and claim the space they deserve.
To the dreamers, the misfits, and the ones who’ve ever felt unseen—this is for you.
To the quiet heroes who walk beside us, the ones who uplift and shelter, yet never demand the spotlight.
And to my own heroes: the ones who encouraged my journey, even when I faltered—thank you for seeing me before I could truly see myself.
This book is a tribute to transformation, to the power of self-love, and to the courage it takes to stand in your truth.
For those who, like me, are finding their way home to themselves.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Ride Begins 1
Chapter 2: Crossroads at the Altar 10
Chapter 3: The Turning Point 34
Chapter 4: The Art of Becoming 38
Chapter 5: Dinner with Cade 49
Chapter 6: An Offer I Didn’t Expect 51
Chapter 7: Refining Karissa’s Look 53
Chapter 8: Wardrobe Revolution 55
Chapter 9: Stepping Boldly into Tomorrow 57
Chapter 10: The Salon Beckons 59
Chapter 11: The Transformative Style 62
Chapter 12: Charting New Directions 68
Chapter 13: Invitation to High Society 69
Chapter 14: Revealed in the Fitting Room 71
Chapter 16: Making an Entrance 73
Chapter 19: Back to the Party 80
Chapter 20: The Decision Point 81
Chapter 22: Owning the New Life 82
Chapter 23: Building a Routine 83
Chapter 24: When Realization Hits 84
Chapter 25: Opportunity Knocks 85
Chapter 26: Salon Days, New Horizons 86
Chapter 27: Future in Focus with Cade 87
Chapter 28: Finding Home in the Guesthouse 89
Chapter 29: Widening My World 90
Chapter 30: Cade’s Growing Affection 91
Chapter 31: Second Chances 92
Chapter 32: Salon of New Beginnings 93
Chapter 33: Outside Threats 94
Chapter 34: Bridging Two Worlds 95
Chapter 35: Ghosts from the Past 96
Chapter 37: Cade at the Gala 98
Chapter 38: Invitation to Stay 100
Chapter 39: Settling In 101
Chapter 40: Salon Days 102
Chapter 41: Cade’s Presence Grows 104
Chapter 42: Torn Between 105
Chapter 43: The Unexpected Offer 106
Chapter 44: The Weight I Carry 108
Chapter 45: Meeting Chris 109
Chapter 46: Preparing for the Charity Event 113
Chapter 48: Deepening Ties with Cade 115
Chapter 49: Charity in the Spotlight 116
Chapter 50: Into the Light 118
Chapter 51: A Pause for Reflection 120
Chapter 52: Out with the Girls 122
Chapter 53: Reflections and Resolve at Mrs. H’s 125
Chapter 55: A New Kind of Love 139
Chapter 56: The Ribbon Cutting Ceremony 146
Chapter 57: The Moment We Share 148
Chapter 58: The Salon Family Grows 150
Chapter 59: Cruising New Waters 151
Chapter 60: The Phoenix Rises 152
Chapter 61: Echoes from the Past 155
Chapter 62: The Call (Part II) 161
Chapter 63: Facing Forward, Eyes Open 166
Chapter 64: Navigating New Terrains 171
Chapter 65: A Welcome from a Stranger 174
Chapter 66: Reunion and Reconciliation 181
Chapter 67: An Offer of Solidarity 191
Chapter 68: Recovery and Renewal 195
Chapter 69: Leaving, but Keeping Family Close 199
Chapter 70: Arrival in NYC 203
Chapter 71: Brainstorming Bonds 208
Chapter 72: Night Out, New Opportunity 214
Chapter 73: The Jon-A-Thon 230
Chapter 72: Back in the Heart of Texas 236
Chapter 73: The Spark of a Revolution 243
Chapter 74: Backlash Begins 264
Chapter 75: Rallying Allies 269
Chapter 76: Making Waves 271
Chapter 77: The Gathering of the Tribe 273
Chapter 79: After the Storm 278
Chapter 80: Pushback and Resiliance 281
Chapter 81: Ready for Battle 287
Chapter 82: Under Pressure 288
Chapter 83: Grit Meets Grace 295
Chapter 84: Drawing Lines in the Sand 301
Chapter 85: Standing Firm 318
Chapter 86: The Final Push 320
Chapter 87: Looking Forward 322
Chapter 88: Paving the Road in Front of Us 324
Chapter 1: The Ride Begins
“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
The Houston skyline was a blurry smear against the dark, rain-streaked window of the shuttle bus. The storm had turned the city into a war zone of flooded streets and swirling chaos. Every other flight had been canceled, but after more than an hour of circling the airport, the little puddle jumper I was flying in was critically low on fuel and was allowed to land—barely.
The terminal was practically deserted, except for a few scattered travelers and the storm rattling the structure like some eerie, haunted soundtrack. My phone buzzed, squinting at the directions Marie had sent earlier in the week. “It’ll be a madhouse,” she had texted, “but you’re always cool under pressure, right?”
The last text from Marie glowed on the screen: “Whatever happens, just get here, safe. Nothing else matters. I’m marrying him, storm or no storm.”
It was true, I thought, leaning my head back against the cold window. Production in L.A. had been a circus of last-minute rewrites, producer tantrums, and chronic impossible deadlines. The kind of environment where I thrived creatively—piecing together massive set designs, figuring out logistical nightmares, solving problems with materials and timing. The chaos kept me busy enough that I never had to think too hard about the bigger picture, which was convenient. After we wrapped, I packed up my life into a storage unit, like a collection of memories waiting to be unpacked.
Temporary housing was gone, and I didn’t feel like going back to New York just yet. Maybe it was the city, or maybe it was the sense that there wasn’t anything for me to return to. Houston was supposed to be a pit stop on my way home—a chance to support Marie, who’d had a small role on the show, and be her one friend from the production invited to her wedding. I’d never been to Texas before, and it seemed like a good distraction while I figured out my next move.
It was strange, sitting here in this shuttle, with the storm making the outside world seem distant and unreal. I’d spent most of my twenties hopping between cities—New York for art school, L.A. for the industry, and random sets in between—wherever I could make my creative mark. Sculpture was where I started, but set design became my way of life. The larger, the more intricate, the more impossible the vision, the better I worked. I was good at it, in a way that felt like instinct. People liked my work. Doors opened. But when the set was built and the lights went down, I never quite knew what to do with myself.
Like my relationships. My girlfriends all adored me at first—always telling me how “different” I was from other guys, how I listened, how I wasn’t pushy. And I wasn’t. I’d never been the kind of guy who had to be the center of attention or took what he wanted without asking. I wasn’t the pursuer, not in love, anyway. But that meant that, eventually, the women drifted away, looking for something more. More effort, more pursuit, more… something. They always left on good terms, even stayed friends with me afterward. It was just that I never gave enough of myself in the ways they wanted.
I sighed, watching the rain hit the window in uneven streaks. I wondered how Marie had managed it. She was around my age, yet here she was—getting married, starting this next chapter of her life, sure of what she wanted. Her world seemed so clear and set. Even my siblings had found their own direction. My brother and sister seemed to have a clear path forward, even if their lives weren’t without complication.
Meanwhile, my life felt packed in storage, just like my belongings, waiting to be unpacked. Relationships were fleeting. Jobs were constant but not grounding. I had skills. I had passion. And yet, I had no idea what the future held for me. For years, I’d let the work take me wherever it wanted, but lately, I’d started wondering if that was enough. How long could I keep drifting from project to project, city to city, before something caught up to me? Was this all life would be? The thought gnawed at me lately—whenever the noise of a production wrapped and the quiet settled in.
Maybe it was the idea of marriage that had me thinking about it. The way people find their person, settle down, build something that lasts. Maybe it was because Marie had found it, found happiness, and I was beginning to realize that I hadn’t.
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling its length—longer now than it had been in years. It used to be a statement back when I first moved to New York. The city had been my blank canvas, the place where I found sculpture, stumbled into set design, found parts of myself I didn’t even know existed. But as the years went by, the constant movement became less about expression and more about distraction.
It was easier to occupy myself with creative projects than to face those bigger questions—like why the relationships never stuck, or why I felt more at home in my work than I did in my life.
The rain kept falling, and the storm was unrelenting. I watched the water cascade down the window and thought about how the past decade had passed in a kind of blur—always chasing the next set design, the next production, the next creative outlet. But never chasing the next part of life, the way everyone else seemed to be doing.
What would it even look like for me to get serious about my future? Settle down? The thought felt foreign, and maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t just that relationships had drifted away; it was that I never knew how to grab hold of them in the first place. I didn’t know what to pursue.
I closed my eyes, listening to the rain and the quiet hum of the bus’s engine. For now, the best I could do was show up for Marie. Maybe being there for her in this chapter of her life would give me some kind of insight into what mine might look like. Or at least help me feel like I wasn’t as lost as I thought. I smiled, imagining Marie’s calm voice, the way she always seemed unflappable, even now, when everything was falling apart. That was Marie—no drama, no panic, just a quiet certainty that everything would work out. And her family? From what she had shared they were like Texas royalty. The kind of people for whom even nature wouldn’t dare interfere. Her father, Mr. H, was a force of his own. If anyone could command respect in a storm like this, it was him. One last bedraggled shuttle bus idled outside, and I rushed over, feeling the wind whip at my coat as I climbed aboard. The driver, an older guy with a salt-and-pepper beard and a beaten-up Astros cap, glanced at me in the mirror.
“Where you headed, son?”
“The Beaumont estate,” I replied, shoving my wet bag onto the seat beside me. “Can you get me there?”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s a bit of a ways out, and the roads are all tore up from this flood. But I’ll get you as close as I can. After that, you’d be on your own.”
The rain lashed at the windows as we pulled up to a small, dimly lit gas station, nobody in sight. The shuttle driver turned around and sighed. “This is as far as I can take you, son. Roads ahead are all flooded out.”
I glanced out at the rain-soaked landscape, a vast expanse of black water stretching as far as I could see. “Thanks, really, I’ll figure it out, be safe!” I said, more to myself than to him. The guy gave me a skeptical look but nodded. With my duffel slung over one shoulder, I stepped out into the downpour.
Marie had told me the estate was about thirty miles out, nestled somewhere on the edge of the flooding zone. I couldn’t just sit and wait for the storm to clear, so I started walking. It was slow going, the water up to my knees in some places, and each step felt like wading through concrete. The roads were eerily empty, no sign of rescue crews or other stranded travelers. My phone was dead, and every now and then, I passed cars submerged to their windows, their hazard lights flashing dimly in the downpour. My shoes were soaked, the cold seeping through to my bones. This was utterly miserable, and more than a bit scary, but Marie’s words echoed in my mind, driving me forward, and I had nowhere else to go. I trudged down the flooded road, dodging floating debris, the rain hammering down in relentless sheets. A couple of pickup trucks roared past, their drivers shouting out offers of help. It turned out Mr. H had called in some favors, sending out a small fleet of volunteers to check on stranded guests. I was relieved when I finally grabbed a ride with a couple of local guys who seemed unfazed by the chaos, like this was just another Texas thunderstorm to them. We drove in tense silence, the storm making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. When we finally pulled up to the estate, it was nearly midnight. The place was a maze of vehicles, stranded wedding guests huddled under the porch, and a few bewildered relatives trying to figure out what to do next.
I thanked the driver and made my way to the house. Marie spotted me from the porch, her face breaking into a relieved smile. She looked impossibly composed, even with her hair plastered to her face and her dress soaked through. I jogged over, the last few steps more like wading.
“You made it,” she said, throwing her arms around me in a damp hug. “I knew you would.”
“Barely,” I laughed, stepping back to take her in. “You’re really something, you know that? I expected full-on Bridezilla by now.”
“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to marry him. If it has to be on a flooded porch in the middle of a hurricane, so be it. We’ve got everyone who matters right here, and Mom and Dad are handling the rest.”
She nodded toward the house, where Mrs. H was directing a group of drenched family members with the precision of a drill sergeant. Even from a distance, her voice carried, cool and commanding. There was no trace of the frantic energy I’d expected, just a steady, unflappable resolve.
“Your mom’s incredible,” I said. “I mean, you’ve told me how she’s handled tough situations before, but this—”
Marie shrugged, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “She thrives in this kind of thing. My dad’s the same. He’s got half the county on standby, ready to help out. He’s not even worried. Just wants to make sure I get my day.”
I glanced around at the organized chaos, at the way everyone seemed to be playing their part, and felt a surge of admiration. “I’m impressed,” I said honestly. “Most people would be losing their minds right now.”
“Not this crew,” Marie said with a grin. “We’ve got it covered. And now that you’re here, I feel even better. You’ve always been calm through the storm.”
I squeezed her hand, feeling a strange mix of relief and pride. This was Marie’s world—her family, her life—and she was handling it with a grace I hadn’t seen before. And as I stood there, soaked to the bone but strangely content, I realized just how much I’d missed her, and how happy I was to be here to support her in this chaotic start to a pivotal transition in her life.
“Come on,” she said, tugging me toward the house. “We’ve got a makeshift rehearsal to run through in the morning and the wedding is in the afternoon, and I’m sure Mom will find some way to put you to work.”
I followed her, feeling like I’d stepped into a different kind of production—one where the stakes were higher, the roles more personal, and the rewards far more meaningful than anything I’d ever experienced on set.
“And this must be Kai,” she said, her voice steady against the storm. “You are even more handsome than my Marie said you were!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, blushing from her effusive and unexpected compliment, wiping the rain from my face. “Sorry I’m late. The flight was—”
She waved me off. “Nonsense. You’re one of the few who made it at all. The rehearsal’s been pushed to tomorrow morning, but it’s a mess. Many of the family are stranded, and I’ve had to send the boys to assist whoever they can get to.” Her gaze lingered on me for a beat
longer than I expected. “Marie spoke highly of you. Said you’re good under pressure.”
I laughed, a little self-consciously. “I try to be.”
“Good.” Her lips curved into a smile, one that held something more than gratitude. “I have a feeling we’re going to need that quality tomorrow.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but it felt inevitable that I was about to find out. She looked me up and down and snapped to an assistant, who rushed over. “Let’s get this young man into some warm comfortable clothes, and show him to the buffet”.
Chapter 2: Crossroads at the Altar
We arrived at the rehearsal early the next morning in the middle of a downpour, the rain had turned many of the city’s streets into swirling rivers. Inside the grand church, the air was heavy with the smell of wet umbrellas and the frantic murmurs of people trying to salvage a wedding that seemed to be slipping out of control. Marie’s family—powerhouses in the world of medicine and society—were scrambling, but yet calm. Two of the bridesmaids had been stranded by the storm, as well as numerous family members and guests, and worry rippled through the bride’s entourage.
I didn’t really belong here, that much was clear, but I fought my way here and that was greatly appreciated. I was just a guest, far removed from the drama, but somehow, I found myself swept up in the tide. Marie’s mother, Mrs. H, a woman whose elegance was matched only by her determination, fixed her eyes on me, and before I knew it, I was standing in for one of the missing bridesmaids so they could proceed with the rehearsal. The truth is, I’d been feeling unmoored ever since LA production ended. My life, carefully packed into storage units, felt like a collection of props without a stage. And now, here I was, stepping into a role I’d never imagined for myself. But, it’s just production I thought, the show must go on. Part of me was apprehensive, but another part—the part that had always flirted with unconventional ideas, even if I never fully admitted it—was intrigued. At first, it felt surreal—a guy like me, walking arm-in-arm with a tall, handsome groomsman that looked perfectly cast for the part. His smile was warm, his hand resting on my back just a little too easily. But as the rehearsal unfolded, something unexpected stirred inside me. It wasn’t just the adrenaline of the moment; it was something deeper.
As I took my place among the bridal party, surrounded by flowing satin dresses and perfectly coiffed hair, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window across the room. I looked so out of place—yet, I wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing. There was a strange, quiet thrill in the act of standing there, of pretending, even for a few fleeting moments, that I could belong in that role. I brushed the feeling aside, trying to shake off the excitement that crept up my spine.
But then it happened. After the rehearsal ended, the bride’s mother approached me with a determined look in her eyes, and I was pulled into a side room. My heart pounded in my chest, unsure of what I had done wrong. Had I overstepped? Had I made a fool of myself by standing in? I did not want to embarrass Marie, or anyone.
“Thank you for stepping in today,” she said, her voice smooth, like someone accustomed to getting what she wanted. “I do hope it wasn’t too strange for you.”
“No, it was fine, really,” I replied, a bit too quickly. “Happy to help.”
She studied me for a moment, a glint in her eye. “Kai, You handled yourself beautifully,” she said, her lips curling into a smile. “In fact, you were so natural, I started thinking… perhaps we don’t need to worry about the missing bridesmaid at all.”
I blinked, unsure of where this was going.
“You see,” she continued, “the bridesmaid you stood in for won’t be able to make it in time for the wedding. And I know this might sound strange, but I’ve got a good eye for these things…” She hesitated, then leaned in, her voice dropping. “I believe you could stand in for her. Properly.”
Her words hung in the air, and I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, what?” My heart raced. Was she serious? “I’m… I’m not sure I understand.” She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring no one else was in earshot. “You’ve long made an impression on Marie,” she said. “Like me, my daughter has always had a knack for spotting people’s true potential. When she told me about you—how you helped her through that mess in LA, how you stayed with her when her friends flaked—I knew you had a strength most people lack. It’s not just about the role you’re filling, Kai. It’s bigger, much more important. It’s about who you are, and we could really use your strength today to help batten things down.”
Her words caught me off guard. Marie and I had met in LA on the series, during a particularly low point for both of us. We’d become fast friends, bonding over late-night conversations and mutual support. I had come to the wedding as her friend and confidant, certainly not expecting to be anything more than that. The fact that she’d spoken to her mother about me—about something beyond just a surface friendship—left me reeling.
“I think, with the right team, you’d make a fetching young woman,” she said casually, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world. “Just for the day, of course. I have every confidence that you’d look stunning as a bridesmaid.” She smiled, as if sensing the turmoil behind my confusion. “I know, it’s an outlandish request. But when I saw you today, the way you moved, the way you fit in… something just clicked. I know, with the right team, you’d look absolutely perfect. No one would ever know.”
My mind could not process this. The idea was completely absurd—unrealistic, of course—but there was something about the way she said it, the calm confidence in her voice, that made the words stick. I couldn’t tell if I was horrified or intrigued. A mixture of both, perhaps. Her confidence was almost hypnotic, but I struggled to wrap my mind around it. Why me? Why not one of the other women milling about, eager for attention and approval? She must have read my thoughts because she added, “It’s not just about filling a spot, Kai. You have a presence, an energy that can’t be faked. And I have a sense for these things. Call it intuition.”
I wanted to laugh it off, to say no immediately, but something held me back. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt a strange pull toward something so left of center it didn’t seem real. And it wasn’t the first time I’d felt noticed for something I couldn’t quite name.
“It wouldn’t work! I would look ridiculous! The objections tumbled out before I could stop them. “I don’t think—” I started, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.
“I know, it sounds crazy. But trust me, with the right makeover, you’d look perfect. No one would ever know. Look at some of these Texas girls, they are buried beneath so much makeup and hairspray I can barely recognize any of them. We’d fit you right in, it’s just pageantry darlin’!” She reached into her bag and placed a check on the table between us. $5,000. “We’d be happy to compensate you, of course. For your troubles.”
My mouth went dry. Five thousand dollars. That was a lot of money. More than enough to make a difference in my world. But it wasn’t just the money. As the offer hung in the air, something deep inside me began to stir—a curiosity I had never fully acknowledged. What if I could do this? What if this wasn’t just about pretending for a day, but about something more? As the offer hung in the air, something deeper stirred— a longing I’d never dared explore.
I hesitated, the weight of the check in my mind. “If… if we tried it, and it didn’t work, could we just call it off?”
“Of course, I promise” she said with a smile, her confidence unwavering. “But I have every faith that you’ll look ravishing. The salon we use is the best. My girls will take care of everything. You just need to be open to it. If it’s not right, we’ll call it off, no one will look the fool on this day.”
I swallowed, the enormity of the decision sinking in. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but something inside me—something I hadn’t fully understood until that moment—was pulling me toward saying yes.
I swallowed hard, the weight of the decision pressing down. “But…why not one of the aunts or even one of your girls at the salon? Why…me?”
Her smile softened, and she looked almost motherly. “You’re not just filling a spot, Kai. You have a grace, a potential… I don’t think you even realize it yourself. The moment I saw you, I knew you could transform in a way that others couldn’t. This isn’t just about the wedding. It’s about showing you something about yourself.”
Her words hit me like a jolt of electricity. I’d always been good at slipping into different roles, but this was something entirely different. She was offering me a chance to see myself in a way I’d never dared to before.
“Okay,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We can try it.”
Her smile widened, and before I knew it, we were on our way to the salon. The car ride passed in a blur, my mind racing with thoughts I hadn’t allowed myself to explore before. Could I really pull this off? And more importantly, why would I? It’s one thing to help out a friend, a good friend, but this felt orders of magnitude greater than anything I could fathom or would ever ask. At the same time, it just felt like show business, and we know all too well that it must go on.
We arrived under the wide awning of a nondescript brick building that looked unremarkable from the outside, still awash in a torrent, but inside, it was a world of high-end luxury—polished marble floors, the scent of expensive products lingering in the air, and women with perfectly styled hair and makeup bustling around with the grace of trained professionals, protected from the outside world and a world unto its own.
We were greeted by the salon manager, the wedding planner, and a group of beauticians, a team of whom seemed to know exactly what was about to happen. I was introduced to Kandy, a young woman with a warm smile and an easy confidence.
“It’s very lovely to meet you,” she said, taking my hand. “Now, let’s get started.”
There seemed to be no turning back now.
She led me into a small fitting room, where she handed me a simple dressing gown. I changed, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness build in my chest. Kandy returned with a tape measure and began taking my measurements, her movements quick and professional. Head, neck, chest, waist, hips, inseam, legs—every inch of me was catalogued with precision. Photos were taken from every angle.
I stood there, the reality of what was happening finally starting to sink in. This wasn’t just a dress-up game. This was real. And with each measurement Kandy took, I felt a strange sense of anticipation growing inside me. What would I look like when this was over? Would I recognize myself? Did I even want to?
“All done,” Kandy said with a smile, handing my measurements to another assistant who disappeared into the hallway. She turned back to me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “You’re going to look incredible.”
The transformation began in earnest after the measurements were taken, and I was ushered into a small but opulent room where a eucalyptus-scented steam sauna awaited me. The steam hit my skin immediately, warm and enveloping, and I inhaled deeply, feeling my muscles relax as the moisture opened every pore on my body. The tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying melted away, and I let myself enjoy the luxury of the experience.
“This will get you glowing,” Kandy said with a reassuring smile as she helped me into the sauna. “Relax, this is just the beginning.”
Just as I was starting to settle into the warmth, Kandy reappeared, holding a small tray with a delicate glass of tea. The liquid inside was a light jade green and released a faint, earthy aroma.
“This is for you,” she said, handing me the glass. “It’s a cold green tea blend we give to special clients—it’s refreshing and has various healing properties. It’ll help you relax even more. And”—she added with a wink—“there’s a little something in there that will keep ol’ Kai from stirring up any hormonal surprises, I think you understand. You’ll feel calm and collected for the rest of the day.”
I took a tentative sip, feeling the cool liquid flow down my throat, cutting through the heat of the sauna. It was surprisingly soothing, with a slightly sweet aftertaste that lingered on my tongue. As the tea settled in my stomach, I could feel its effects set in—a deeper sense of peace and relaxation washed over me, as if my body was aligning itself with my mind. My thoughts, which had been swirling with anxieties about Kai’s stubborn presence and reservations, began to quiet down.
Kandy smiled at me as if reading my thoughts. “It won’t last too long” she said softly, “but it will give you enough time to get through this day with confidence.”
I nodded, grateful for the gesture and for this small reprieve. As I sat back in the sauna, sipping the tea, I felt like I was not just preparing for the next steps in my transformation, but grounding myself in the process, letting go of the tension both physical and emotional.
For now, Kandy was in control, and Kai could rest.
After the steam, I was quickly transitioned into the next stage—a full-body waxing. From toe to neck, every inch of hair was meticulously removed. It stung at first, but the salon team was swift and gentle, their reassuring words and moisturizing tonics softening the bite of the waxing strips. Then came the thick depilatory cream for my face. It smelled faintly of lavender, and when they told me it would rid me of any facial hair for the next few days, I didn’t protest, it had been one of my many worries about this experiment. I was too far into this experience now to back out, and besides, there was something thrilling about giving myself over to the process, and it had turned out to be a very well paying gig.
As I lay there, letting the cream work its magic, my eyebrows were threaded and sculpted into a soft, feminine arch. The precision with which they worked on my brows made me feel like an artwork in progress, each tiny change contributing to an overall picture I hadn’t yet seen.
Once my face was smooth and freshly manicured, I was taken into a large, tiled shower room. The water was warm and soothing as I was exfoliated from head to toe. A delicate brush swept away dead skin cells, while tonics were applied that tightened my pores and left my skin feeling strangely new. Afterward, they wrapped me in a soft, white towel and dried me gently, like I was something fragile, precious.
Next came the spray tan. The fine mist settled over my skin, cool and even. The bronzed hue deepened my complexion, making my pale skin glow with a healthy, sun-kissed radiance. The change was dramatic—I could feel it, though I still hadn’t seen myself in the mirror. Each step was building upon the last, and my anticipation was growing, an electric hum beneath my skin.
“Perfect,” Kandy murmured as she circled around me, inspecting the work. Her voice was soothing, filled with genuine admiration. “You’re going to love the result.”
My lips were next. They exfoliated them gently, then applied a thick plumping serum that left them feeling full and luscious. I could feel the subtle tingling as the serum took effect, my lips swelling slightly, taking on a fuller shape. With every new procedure, I felt more and more like a canvas being transformed into something new, something I couldn’t quite picture yet but was becoming evermore eager to meet.
There was a surprising intimacy to it all. The way they touched me, adjusted me, spoke to me—it was like being cradled in a cocoon, their confidence transferring to me as I sank further into the experience. Their reassurances echoed in my head, helping me relax into this unfamiliar, yet strangely alluring role.
But the most unexpected part of the transformation came next. I was led into another room where I was introduced to what Kandy referred to as “the pièce de résistance”—a thin silicone upper body piece, fitted like a tight tank top, but with perfectly full, natural-looking breasts molded into it. My eyes opened as large as they could, I was speechless.
“It’s color-matched exactly to your skin tone,” Kandy explained, as she helped me into the piece. “Once it’s on, you’ll barely notice it’s there. It has been airbrushed and detailed to look completely realistic”
At first, I was unsure, hesitant even, but as they adjusted the silicone piece over my torso, something shifted within me. It fit so snugly, so perfectly, that it almost felt like it belonged there—like it was an extension of my body. My breath caught in my throat as I looked down and realized just how real it all looked. The seamlessness, the subtle curves—it was flawless. And more than that, it was… intoxicating. It was as though I had been pulled deeper into the version of myself that had always existed just beneath the surface.
Kandy then handed me a peculiar pair of padded panties. They were designed not only to enhance feminine curves where I lacked them but also to conceal any masculine outlines that might be noticeable. The sight of them was strange at first, but slipping them on felt surprisingly comfortable—and effective. With each layer added, I felt less like I was wearing something foreign, and more like I was stepping into a new, alternate version of myself. It wasn’t just about looking the part; it was about embodying it. This was now feeling more than theater.
For the first time, I felt a pang of excitement—a real, visceral thrill at how far and how fast this transformation was going. The sensation was powerful, almost dizzying, as I allowed myself to accept it. I wasn’t just playing a role anymore; I was becoming it. I was part of something larger, something beautifully orchestrated and carefully planned. The experience felt less like pretending and more like an unveiling.
Kandy smiled warmly at my reaction. “Told you it would fit perfectly. You’re doing great.”
I nodded, still processing everything, and allowed them to lead me to the next stage.
They slipped me into a simple A-line dress, soft and elegant, its fabric hugging my form in all the right places. The seams of the silicone piece were completely hidden, and I looked down to see myself in a dress that fit perfectly—almost as if it had been tailored for me. They handed me a pair of 1-inch heels to match, comfortable yet stylish, I think in a way to start getting me accustomed to walking in taller heels later. As I stood up in them, I felt the subtle shift in posture, the way the shoes made me move with a different kind of grace. The transformation was nearly complete, but there was still more to come. I was led to a back corner of the main salon where the manager, Kandy, and the rest of the team conferred quietly before setting to work on my hair.
Kandy approached with her usual playful yet reassuring smile, holding a sectioning comb in one hand and a tray of oversized rollers in the other. The rest of the team stood by, ready to assist. I was turned away from the mirror, unable to see my reflection, which only heightened my anticipation.
Kandy started by parting my hair with the comb, the cool metal tip gliding across my scalp as she worked with precision. Each section of hair was meticulously divided, and with every part, I felt like I was being separated from who I had been before. It wasn’t just about organizing my hair; it felt like organizing pieces of myself.
As they began winding my hair onto the large rollers, the process became almost hypnotic. My hair was pulled taut with each twist, wrapped tightly, and clipped into place. The tension on my scalp was both firm and comforting, as though it grounded me in the moment. With every section of hair that was rolled up and secured, I felt myself slipping deeper into the transformation, almost as if the act of winding my hair was pulling me further into this new version of myself.
The gentle tug of each roller being tightened gave me a sense of release—like each twist and turn was peeling away the old layers of who I used to be. It was a strangely meditative experience. My scalp tingled under the pressure, a reminder that something significant was happening, not just externally, but inside as well.
I sat, the weight of the rollers gradually increasing as more hair was coiled tightly around them. It was an odd but strangely pleasant sensation—feeling my hair being sculpted into something new, something beautiful, though I wasn’t allowed to see the result just yet. I was left only with the feeling of being on the edge of something profound.
The rollers sat heavy on my head, pressing lightly against my scalp, creating a sensation of controlled tension. It was a constant reminder that I was no longer in control of this process; I was being shaped, both by the hands of the stylists and by the emotional transformation I was undergoing. But even with the heaviness, there was a growing lightness inside me. I could feel myself giving in, surrendering to the change, welcoming it.
Kandy worked in quiet efficiency, and the team moved around me like they had done this a thousand times before. I trusted them. I trusted the process. I could only imagine what I looked like, and as the final rollers were clipped into place, I felt the weight of both the physical transformation and the emotional shift it was bringing.
But still, I was not allowed to look in the mirror—not yet.
While my hair was setting, I was given a pedicure—my feet were massaged and pampered, my toenails painted a soft, delicate pink. The color matched perfectly with the manicure that followed while sitting under the dryer hood. As a full set of acrylic nails were applied, long and beautifully shaped, I marveled at how different my hands looked, how every tiny detail was being transformed.
When I was finally placed under the dryer, my hair gently warming and setting into place, I found myself settling into a strange state of calm. The rush of the morning, the anxiety and uncertainty that had gripped me earlier, began to dissolve. I was surrounded by warmth and care, by the easy confidence of the salon team who knew exactly what they were doing.
And perhaps, most surprisingly, I was starting to believe in it too. The process had been intense, yes, but also… liberating. Each step had brought me closer to something I hadn’t realized I was seeking—something that felt exhilarating and new. I hadn’t yet seen my reflection, but I was growing eager to meet the person I was becoming.
With each passing moment, I found myself sinking deeper into the process, an almost dreamlike state where reality felt suspended. After the team finished with my nails and hair, they handed me a tooth insert that would brighten my smile to a perfect, Hollywood white. It was uncanny how quickly and effortlessly my sense of self was shifting into something unrecognizable yet tantalizingly familiar.
As they slipped the insert into place, I was given a pair of small earbuds. The music was soft, with a soothing undercurrent of subliminal messages—tones and whispers designed to relax me, to help me embrace my feminine side, and to unlock some hidden well of confidence. The track whispered affirmations I hadn’t dared say aloud myself, things like “You are powerful, beautiful, feminine… You exude grace, charm, and confidence.” Each phrase wrapped around me, like the last piece of silk being draped over a mannequin. The sensations were intoxicating, and with each note, I felt myself shifting, surrendering to this new version of me, my subconscious reality shaping my outward expression..
While the music played softly in my ears, the stylist began removing the large rollers from my hair. As she worked, she teased and sprayed, teasing and spraying again, until my shoulder-length locks had been sculpted up into an extravagant Texas-style bouffant, complete with large waves and flipped curls. It was a hairstyle I could never have imagined wearing, something so gloriously over-the-top, yet undeniably elegant. My heart raced with a heady mix of nerves and excitement as the final pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.
Once my hair had been sculpted and secured in place with a cloud of hairspray, the makeup artist stepped in, her tools gleaming under the soft salon lights. She used an airbrush to give me a flawless base, and then her hands moved like a painter over my face, each brushstroke adding new layers of definition. Shadows and highlights emerged, and my features softened and transformed under her skilled touch. She applied soft pinks and bold reds, shimmer and contour, until she pulled back, a satisfied smile on her face.
“There, that’s perfect,” she said, admiring her work. “You look absolutely enchanting… dare I say, hot! Mrs. H is going to be thrilled.”
Her words filled me with warmth, a small surge of pride and validation. But before I could take in the full transformation, Mrs. H entered the room. Her face lit up in a bright, approving smile.
“Darlin’, you look gorgeous! I knew you would,” she said, beaming at me. Her southern charm dripped from every word, making me feel embraced and accepted in a way that went beyond the exterior. “Now, girls let’s get her dressed—we don’t have a moment to spare!”
I was ushered back to the fitting room, where three of the salon girls stood waiting, each holding a piece of the ensemble that would complete my transformation. The bridesmaid gown—a shimmering masterpiece in soft pink and gold—was fitted perfectly to my frame. With a few delicate adjustments, the dress hugged me in a way that felt both natural and glamorous. The neckline revealed my new décolletage in a way that was feminine but tasteful, another important touch to complete the illusion.
With the help of the girls, I stepped into the gown, the smooth fabric gliding over my skin like a second layer. They fussed over the details, adjusting the fit, placing sparkling jewelry around my neck, fastening delicate earrings, and slipping bracelets onto my wrists. It was an out-of-body experience—I was the center of attention, the subject of all their careful effort. The person I’d walked in as was long gone, replaced by this vision they had so skillfully crafted.
When it was finally time, I was led to the front door. Kandy, ever the diligent guide, followed close behind, her watchful eye ensuring that everything was perfect. She was my lifeline through this whirlwind experience, and in that moment, I felt like I needed her by my side more than ever. Without her, I was sure I could not pull this off.
Just as I was about to step outside, Kandy touched my arm gently and said, “Girl, one last thing. And it’s rather important. What’s your name?”
The question struck me as odd. My name? I hadn’t really thought about it, not in this context. But without hesitation, before I even had a chance to overthink it, a name tumbled from my lips.
“Karissa!” I blurted out, the word hanging in the air like a spark.
Kandy’s face lit up in delight. “Oh, that’s absolutely perfect, and it fits you!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm bubbling over. She turned toward the mirror, a knowing smile playing on her lips. With a flourish, she spun the large mirror around, revealing me to myself for the very first time.
“There she is, our lovely cousin…Karissa!”
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the reflection before me. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the person I had been when I walked in. She was glamorous, poised, and—dare I say—beautiful. The high bouffant hair, the perfectly contoured face, the soft waves of the gown cascading around her… everything about her was enchanting. And yet, in some strange, surreal way, it felt more like me than anything ever had.
The realization hit me with such force that my chest tightened, and I could feel my emotions welling up, threatening to spill over. Kandy noticed immediately and stepped in quickly.
“Hon, no tears, we can’t have you crying right now!” she said with a playful but firm tone. Her hands were gentle as she turned me away from the mirror and toward the door, shifting my attention to the important task at hand. Before I could catch my breath, she whisked me outside and into the waiting limousine.
The door closed behind us with a soft click, and as we pulled away, I glanced back at the salon one last time, still trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The reflection of Karissa lingered in my mind, a flicker of something that was both foreign and achingly familiar.
The limousine glided down the long, winding road toward the chapel, the sun casting a soft, golden glow over the horizon. My heart was racing, not from nerves, but from an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Every moment of the day had been an escalation, a build-up toward this—my debut as Karissa. The day had felt like a fantasy, but now, as I drew closer to the wedding, I realized that it was real. I was about to walk down the aisle, dressed to perfection, an embodiment of femininity I had never before imagined for myself. And somehow, I was not only comfortable with it—I was reveling in it.
As the car pulled up to the chapel, Kandy helped me out of the limousine with a smile that exuded confidence and excitement for me. She straightened my dress, brushed a stray hair back into place, and gave me one last reassuring squeeze on the arm. “You’ve got this, girl,” she whispered.
The chapel itself was a breathtaking sight—flower garlands draped over every archway, and a few guests were filing into the entrance, all dressed to the nines. I took a deep breath as we approached the open door, my heels clicking softly on the stone walkway. I was greeted by Mrs. H, who beamed at me, her eyes sparkling with pride.
“My, don’t you look stunning,” she said, her Southern drawl dripping with warmth. “You were born for this, Karissa. Now let’s get you down that aisle.”
She gently positioned me with the other bridesmaids, making sure everything was perfect. The music started, and suddenly, I found myself walking down the aisle, arm-in-arm with the groomsman from the rehearsal. I don’t know if he recognized me from earlier, but his warm smile was reassuring. The walk felt like it lasted an eternity and an instant all at once, the world around me becoming a blur as I focused on my movements—graceful, feminine, in tune with every step. The silken fabric of my gown whispered against my skin with each glide, and for the first time, I felt the power of embodying this soft, delicate beauty. The confidence that had been growing throughout the day blossomed fully, and as I took my place beside the bride and the other bridesmaids, I realized something unexpected: I loved it.
I loved every second.
Standing there at the front of the chapel, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the stained-glass windows, I felt a deep sense of belonging. Marie caught my eye and gave me a knowing smile, as if to say, Welcome. This is your moment too. I smiled back, feeling a rush of warmth and sisterhood. The ceremony itself passed in a blur of vows and whispered sentiments, and all the while, I stood there with the other bridesmaids, perfectly composed, perfectly feminine, basking in the role I was playing.
After the ceremony, we filed out of the chapel and into the courtyard for photographs. The photographer, a meticulous man with a keen eye for beauty, positioned us in various poses, always treating me as though I were their favorite lovely cousin Karissa. There was no second glance, no questioning looks—just acceptance. I stood with the other bridesmaids, the light catching the shimmer of my dress and hair, and smiled for the camera. Each click felt like a confirmation, a stamp of approval on this new reality. I had slipped into this role seamlessly, and now everyone around me seemed to see Karissa as nothing less than natural.
Once the formal photos were done, I found myself standing off to the side, watching the new bride and groom share a private moment with their photographer. It was then that I felt a gentle hand on my elbow, guiding me toward the awaiting car.
“Miss Karissa, your chariot awaits,” said a smooth, deep voice.
I turned to find a strikingly handsome man standing next to me, his arm already looped through mine. He had an easy charm about him—broad-shouldered and tall, with dark hair slicked back, and eyes that gleamed with amusement and kindness. He wore a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, every inch the chivalrous gentleman.
“I’m Cade,” he said with a crooked smile. “I’ve been given the honor of being your chaperone for the evening. And might I say, you look absolutely stunning.”
There was something in his voice that sent a shiver through me, not out of discomfort but out of a sudden awareness that I was being seen in a way I’d never been seen before. Cade’s gaze was soft, yet lingering, and I felt myself flush under his attention. It never even crossed my mind at this point to opt-out and go shed this costume, as my official duties were completed and I could go clean up if I chose to, but this wasn’t even a choice, it was an invitation forward.
“Thank you, Cade,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I allowed him to lead me toward the car that would take us to the reception. I still couldn’t tell if he knew the ruse we were playing, but he played along perfectly.
The reception was being held at an exclusive members-only club in downtown, an opulent venue with high ceilings, chandeliers, and plush furnishings. The air inside was filled with the warm, melodic hum of a 21-piece band playing timeless classics. As Cade and I entered the grand ballroom, all eyes turned toward the newlyweds—and yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being noticed too, seen in a way that I had never been seen before.
Soon after our arrival, the dancing began. Cade led me onto the dance floor with a confidence that left no room for hesitation. His hand rested lightly on the small of my back, guiding me through each step of the waltz. I had never been led before, never felt the strength of a man directing my movements, and it was… exhilarating. The music swelled around us, and as Cade twirled me gracefully across the floor, I found myself lost in the rhythm, moving as though this was where I belonged all along.
Cade’s charm was undeniable, and as we danced, he held me close, his voice low and intimate as he spoke. “You know, Karissa, you’re quite the enchantress tonight. I think you’ve stolen more than a few hearts.”
I blushed again, but this time I smiled up at him, feeling a surge of confidence, which was met with a pang of skepticism. At first I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me, or being genuine, but looking at him I quickly decided that was my own voice of insecurity and he showed no signs of anything but being a true, and impressive gentleman. “Well, it seems you’ve taken quite the role yourself, Cade. Thank you for being so kind and helping me through it.”
The night blurred into a series of dances, with suitors approaching me one after the other, all eager for a turn. Each man treated me with respect, admiration, and desire. But Cade, Cade stayed close by, always the one to guide me back to the floor after each song.
Later in the evening, the bride’s father approached me as the band played a slow number. “May I have this dance, Miss Karissa?” he asked, extending his hand with a wink.
I laughed softly, placing my hand in his. As we swayed gently to the music, he leaned in and whispered, “You’ve done such a wonderful job today. You’ve made this wedding even more special. I think you belong here more than you know.”
His words lingered in the air, filled with a quiet weight. As the song ended, he squeezed my hand and smiled. “You know, I’ve been talking with Kandy, and we both think you should stay a bit longer. We’d love to have you in the guesthouse, and Kandy can help continue your journey. Think about it, Karissa.” It was a lot to take in, and yet, the offer felt like a dream—one I never thought I’d allow myself to dream, but now, one that seemed tantalizingly within reach. Every fiber of my being wanted to say yes, to continue this impossible, wonderful transformation. It felt like the world was conspiring to usher me down this path,, with every step now supported in a way unthinkable just 24 hours ago.
And as Cade found me again on the dance floor, pulling me into his arms for one last dance, I felt the answer already forming in my heart. His lips brushed against mine in an unexpected gentle kiss, and in that moment, I knew.
“Yes,” I whispered to myself, to the universe, to the woman I was suddenly becoming. “Yes.”
Chapter 3: The Turning Point
As I stood on the balcony of the guesthouse, the cool Texas breeze carrying the scent of magnolias, I couldn’t help but reflect on the past few days. The wedding had been a whirlwind of emotions, but it was more than just an elaborate ceremony. It was my rebirth, a journey that had started with a simple stand-in role and transformed into something far deeper—a new understanding and expression of myself.
It had been two days since the wedding, and Mrs. H’s offer was heavy on my mind. The bride’s father had indeed been serious about his invitation for me to stay in the guesthouse and explore this newfound version of myself. Kandy had remained by my side, offering both friendship and guidance. The world felt different now, filled with possibilities I never dared to dream of.
As I made my way to the salon for a follow-up appointment, I found myself in deep thought about the next step in this unexpected journey. Kandy greeted me with a knowing smile, as though she could sense the internal shift in me.
“Ready for today?” Kandy asked.
“More than ready,” I replied, surprising even myself with my confidence.
Today, we were going to focus on something that had been suggested the day after the wedding: a hairstyle that would complete my outer transformation and align me with the woman I was becoming inside.
Sitting in the plush salon chair, I watched as the stylist, a woman named Vivienne who specialized in curly styles, prepared the necessary tools. Vivienne explained each step of the process, but I was lost in thought. My gaze drifted toward the mirror. The memory of my reflection on the wedding day still sent a thrill through me, but this would be something different—a more distinct change that would mark a pivotal moment.
Vivienne worked methodically, cutting my locks, rolling my hair into curlers, and ensuring every strand was perfect. Kandy sat beside me, chatting easily as though this were any other salon day. But to me, it was monumental. The feeling of the new feminine cut, the curls forming—it felt like a metaphor for everything that had happened to me so far. Tight, controlled, and yet full of untapped potential.
Vivienne took great care in styling the newly curly locks. As she combed through and set the curls into place, my image was striking. The curls cascaded down in bouncy waves, framing my face in a way that felt feminine, powerful, and uniquely me. I stared at myself, speechless. The change was undeniable.
“You look absolutely stunning,” Kandy said, giving me a warm smile. “This is you, Karissa. This is really you.”
For the first time, I fully saw the woman I had been discovering within. And it wasn’t just the hair or makeup—it was a sense of inner alignment, of truth, that radiated outward.
After the appointment, Mrs. H called for me to come by the main house for a conversation. As I walked through the beautifully manicured lawns, I felt lighter, as if each step carried me closer to my future. When I arrived, Mrs. H greeted me warmly and led me into the sitting room.
“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Mrs. H began, her tone gentle but purposeful. “I think you’re realizing what we all saw in you from the beginning—that you’re not just playing a role anymore. This is who you are.”
I nodded, words failing me for a moment. Mrs. H continued, “You’ve got an incredible natural talent for this world. I’ve been speaking to some friends at the salon, and we think there’s an opportunity here for you to train as a stylist. You’ve got an eye for detail and a touch with people that can’t be taught. What do you think?”
I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t seen this coming, but now that it was in front of me, it felt like a natural progression. Working in a salon, helping others find their own transformations—it felt like something I could do, and do well. And Kandy had already mentioned how good I was with curly styles during a casual chat, making the idea seem even more fitting.
“I… I think I’d love that,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face.
Mrs. H nodded, clearly pleased with the response. “Wonderful. We’ll start with some training, and Kandy will help you settle in. There’s no rush—you’ve got time to figure things out, but I think you’ll find this suits you more than you know.”
I left the house with my mind buzzing. A new chapter was about to unfold, one where I could not only embrace my own transformation but help others experience theirs. I’d never imagined myself as a stylist, but now the idea felt like a calling. The curls bouncing around my face as I walked were a constant reminder of how far I’d come—and how much further I could still go.
Chapter 4: The Art of Becoming
As I stepped through the door on my first official day of training, the smell of the salon—a blend of hairspray, heated tools, and floral-scented shampoos—greeted me. Despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach, there was a sense of belonging that kept me steady. This was the beginning of something new, and as I glanced at my own reflection in the glass door—my newly curled hair bouncing with every movement—I felt ready.
Kandy was already inside, chatting with Vivienne. The atmosphere was relaxed, with a few regulars getting their hair done, and the soft hum of blow dryers creating a background symphony.
“Look who’s here, ready to take the world by storm!” Kandy beamed, her energy as infectious as ever.
Vivienne turned around and smiled warmly. “Welcome, Karissa. I hope you’re ready to get your hands dirty. I’m going to start you off by showing you some of the basics—washing, conditioning, and prepping hair for styling. But something tells me you’ve already got a good eye for detail.”
I smiled back, my heart pounding with anticipation. I was ready to learn, but there was still a small voice inside me asking whether I could really do this. What if I wasn’t cut out for it? But every time I felt those doubts creep in, I remembered the way I had transformed myself over the past few days. If I could do that, what couldn’t I do?
The first few hours were spent learning the routine of the salon. I found myself surprisingly good at organizing the workspace and assisting the other stylists as they moved from client to client. But it wasn’t until Vivienne pulled me aside and handed me a comb and a set of curlers that the real moment arrived.
“I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be good at this,” Vivienne said with a wink. “Why don’t you try setting the curls on this mannequin? Show me what you’ve got.”
I took a deep breath, focusing on the task in front of me. The mannequin’s hair was straight and ready for transformation, much like I had been before my own restyling. With careful precision, I parted the hair, winding each section into rollers just as I’d seen Vivienne do earlier. As my hands worked, something inside me clicked. The motion felt natural, like I’d been doing this for years.
Vivienne watched in silence, occasionally nodding as I worked. After setting the last curl, I stepped back, unsure of what to expect. The mannequin looked… good. Better than good, actually. The curls were uniform and perfectly placed, each one ready to bounce with life once set.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Vivienne said, grinning. “You’ve got the touch, girl. Those curls are flawless.”
I beamed, my confidence growing with every word. Maybe I really did have a knack for this.
As the day went on, Vivienne and the other stylists continued to guide me through various tasks, from blowouts to styling techniques. But it was the curly hair clients who truly captured my attention. Every time a woman came in with unruly curls or waves, I felt a pull to help, to bring out the beauty in the natural texture. I found myself gravitating toward those clients, learning how to tame and enhance their curls with precision.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted but exhilarated. I had found something I loved, something that made me feel like I was contributing to the world in a real, tangible way. I didn’t just enjoy the work—I was good at it.
As I packed up my things, Kandy approached me with a proud smile. “You were amazing today. I knew you’d have a talent for this. And you know what? I think you’re going to love working with curly hair. It’s an art, and you’ve got the eye for it.”
I smiled, feeling that familiar warmth of pride fill my chest. “Thank you, Kandy. I didn’t know I had this in me, but now… I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
Kandy leaned in, giving me a knowing look. “I think you’re starting to really embrace who you are, Karissa. And I’m here for every step of the way.”
As we walked out of the salon together, I felt like I had taken yet another step forward into my new life. I had never imagined this path for myself—becoming a stylist, finding a passion in curly hair, and embracing my identity so fully. But it all felt right, like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.
As the days passed, I settled into my new life at the salon, balancing my growing skill set with the delicate art of self-discovery. But beneath the surface, a creeping sense of discomfort had begun to work its way into my everyday life. My body was rebelling against the temporary fixes that had allowed me to feel like Karissa during the wedding. The silicone top piece, while effective for that one magical night, had become more and more uncomfortable. Not only was it causing a physical reaction, but it also stirred a growing tension and anxiety deep inside me.
Each morning, I faced the mirror with a mix of pride and frustration. My hair, now styled with elegant, cascading curls, gave me an air of playful elegance, but underneath the makeup and feminine facade, I could feel Kai—the parts of me I hadn’t fully left behind—starting to resurface. The subtle stubble on my face was returning, no matter how closely I shaved, and the silicone was creating irritation on my skin, making every hour feel like a fight to keep Kai at bay. The physical discomfort mirrored my emotional turmoil. Sitting in front of the mirror, I ran my hands across the smooth surface of the silicone prosthetic. I had become so used to the weight of it pressing against my chest, almost as if it were a part of me. When I first started wearing it, I thought I’d never get used to the discomfort—the stickiness, the tightness, the constant awareness of something unnatural strapped to my skin. But over time, it had become almost like a second skin. Uncomfortable, yes. But in a way that had become familiar, expected. Now, every time I peeled it away, there was this strange sense of loss.
I hadn’t always known I longed for this—a fuller chest, a body that felt more complete. In fact, I’d never allowed myself to fully dream about it when I was still Kai. Those thoughts had been buried too deep, locked away in some distant corner of my mind where they felt more like a fantasy than something I could reach. But now, as I stood here, looking at my reflection, I was starting to see it. This body—the way it looked now—felt like mine in a way I hadn’t even realized I needed.
So why, when I removed the prosthetic at the end of the day, did I feel that strange, empty pull in my stomach? Like something essential was still missing?
The anxiety was getting worse. Every time I took it off, I’d stare at my reflection, wondering if I’d ever fully recognize myself. Or was this just some unreachable version of me I’d be chasing forever? It unsettled me, how much I needed the prosthetic to feel right, but the idea of going without it felt unbearable.
It was this feeling—this growing need—that finally pushed me toward the next step. I was ready to make it permanent. I couldn’t keep doing this halfway, couldn’t keep feeling incomplete. This wasn’t some far-off fantasy anymore. It was real. And I wanted to fully become who I was meant to be.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Kandy,” I confessed one afternoon as we closed up the salon. “The silicone, the makeup, the shaving—it’s starting to feel like I’m lying to everyone, including myself. Kai is still here, and I’m terrified people will see him, see me for what I really am. I feel like a fraud.”
Kandy, always brimming with positivity, looked at me with concern but also determination. She squeezed my hand gently. “Karissa, I see you for who you are. You’re not a fraud. But I get it—it’s not just about how you present yourself, it’s about how you feel every day. You’re becoming the person you’re meant to be, but it takes time. The silicone, the shaving—that’s just temporary. There are other ways, better ways, to help you feel like you.”
Her words reassured me, but they didn’t completely ease the growing discomfort I was feeling about my transformation. My outward appearance was shifting, yes, but the internal battle was only intensifying. As confident as I was becoming in my work at the salon—especially with my newfound talent for styling curly hair—my body still didn’t feel entirely my own.
By now, I had begun to build a loyal clientele who were coming to me specifically for their curls. It had quickly become my specialty, transforming what was often considered “unruly” into elegant, natural beauty. The satisfaction I felt in helping others discover their best selves was real, but it also highlighted the gap I still felt within my own transformation. Every curl I tamed reminded me of the parts of myself that still needed smoothing over.
But there were moments that distracted me from the discomfort, moments that made me feel seen and validated—like Cade.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the wedding, and as the week went on, those memories only grew more vivid. The chemistry we’d shared that night was undeniable, but I had no idea if he saw me in the same light, or if it was all just a fleeting attraction, a product of the champagne and the glamorous setting.
That question was answered one afternoon while I was finishing up with a client. As I was brushing out her curls, my phone buzzed in my pocket. When I glanced at the screen, my heart skipped a beat.
It was Cade.
“Dinner tomorrow? I’d love to see you again.”
I stood there, frozen for a second, the weight of the day and my inner turmoil momentarily vanishing. A rush of excitement mixed with nervousness swept over me. Could I do this? Could I meet him again, fully as Karissa, even while I was feeling less than complete?
“Yes, I’d love to,” I typed back, my hands trembling slightly. The thought of seeing Cade again filled me with anticipation—and anxiety. I wanted to be perfect, to present myself confidently and fully as the woman I was becoming, but the discomfort from my silicone prosthesis and the constant battle against Kai’s reemergence threatened to overshadow my excitement.
Kandy noticed my distracted state as we finished up the day. “You’ve got that look,” she teased, nudging me with a knowing smile.
“What look?” I asked, trying to play it off.
“The ‘I’ve got a date tonight’ look. Spill it. Who is he?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, though the nerves were real. “It’s Cade. You remember him from the wedding?”
Kandy’s eyes widened in approval. “Oh, I remember Cade, alright. Girl, you’re in for a treat. That man was definitely into you at the wedding. I’m so happy for you.”
But as the evening approached, the reality of my situation crept back in. How could I sit across from Cade, pretending to be something I wasn’t? The anxiety gnawed at me, and for a moment, I doubted whether I should even go through with the dinner. The physical discomfort and my growing insecurities made me question if I was ready.
It was then that my phone buzzed again. But this time, it wasn’t Cade—it was Mrs. H.
“I’d like to see you this evening,” the message read. “There’s something I think could help you on your journey.”
Curiosity piqued, I headed over to Mrs. H’s estate after work. Upon my arrival, she greeted me warmly, ushering me into her expansive sitting room with the kind of grace that was second nature to her.
“Karissa,” she began, she only referred to me as Karissa now. “Since the wedding, I’ve been thinking. You’ve been handling everything so beautifully, but there are ways to make your transition more comfortable—both for you and for how you present yourself. Houston is full of resources, and I happen to know a few people who are on the cutting edge of things.”
She handed me a brochure, the cover embossed with the logo of a discreet medical practice. As I glanced through it, my eyes widened. It was filled with information on innovative treatments and advanced dermatological solutions. Mrs. H continued as I skimmed.
“There’s a cream that halts facial hair growth and tightens the skin, developed by one of Mr. H’s colleagues. It’s still in the experimental phase, but it’s incredibly effective. And,” she hesitated for a moment before continuing, “there’s another option. A trial for temporary saline breast injections. They’re used for people considering implants, but this new formula is absorbed very slowly, over several months instead of days. It’ll give you the look and feel you want, but without the permanence. You’d be part of the trial if you’re interested. We can arrange it tonight for tomorrow morning.”
My heart raced as I listened. The thought of these treatments—of finally shedding the uncomfortable mask I’d been wearing and feeling more at ease in my own body—was too tempting to resist.
“Yes,” I said, my voice almost breathless with relief. “I want this.”
Mrs. H smiled gently. “I thought you might.”
The next morning, we visited a discreet medical office. I thought I’d be scared. That I would second-guess myself the moment the surgeon started explaining the risks. But instead, I found myself nodding along, my mind already made up. It wasn’t just the prosthetic anymore. This wasn’t about filling out a dress or looking good in the mirror. This was about my body—my real body—and finally bringing it into alignment with how I saw myself.
Was it happening fast? Maybe. But I had spent so long pushing these feelings down, telling myself that I could wait, that I could be patient, that I didn’t need to rush. I had done my waiting. Now, every inch of me screamed for permanence—for a body that felt as real as I knew I was inside.
The minute I signed the paperwork, relief washed over me. Not the kind of fleeting relief I had felt when I wore the prosthetic. This was something deeper. Something more permanent. I was no longer pretending. I was finally taking a step that felt irrevocable, and that terrified me. But more than anything, it felt right. Even if I couldn’t predict the future, I knew that this was what I needed to feel whole. The procedures were handled swiftly and efficiently. The cream worked quickly, halting the stubble I had been fighting for days. And though the injections stung slightly, and the procedure was slow and bizarre as my skin stretched and began to take a new form, the rush of exhilaration I felt afterward eclipsed any discomfort. As I stood in front of the mirror afterward admiring my new curves, I felt a surge of confidence wash over me.
For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was wearing a mask. I felt like Karissa. I was Karissa.
As I left the office, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door, I felt taller, bolder, and more ready than ever. Dinner with Cade loomed ahead, but instead of feeling anxious, I was filled with a thrilling sense of anticipation.
With renewed confidence, I knew I could meet Cade again—not just as Karissa, but as myself, fully and truly. Chapter 5: Dinner with Cade
The restaurant Cade had chosen was nestled in a quiet, upscale part of town—a cozy bistro with dim lighting, candlelit tables, and an ambiance that exuded warmth and intimacy. As I walked in, I spotted him instantly, seated at a corner table, looking as dashing as ever. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, and when he stood to greet me, I noticed the same easy charm that had drawn me to him in the first place.
“Karissa,” he said, smiling as he took my hand and kissed it gently. “You look stunning.”
I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, the compliment sending a warm flutter through me. “Thank you, Cade. You look even more handsome than you did at the wedding.”
We settled into the easy rhythm of conversation as the night unfolded. Cade was attentive, engaging, and, to my delight, genuinely interested in hearing about my journey—both my new career in styling and the deeper personal transformation I’d been undergoing.
“I’m amazed at how far you’ve come,” he said after I shared some of my experiences at the salon. “It’s like you’ve found exactly where you’re meant to be.”
I paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. “I think you’re right,” I admitted. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m becoming the person I was always meant to be.”
Cade reached across the table, taking my hand in his. “I see that, too. And I have to say, I like the person you’re becoming.” It was clear that Cade knew where I had started this journey, and he has been part of the whole adventure. He knew both who I’d been, and who I was now choosing to be.
We shared a smile, and I allowed myself to relax fully into the moment. There was no need to pretend, no need to hide. With Cade, I could just be myself—Karissa, the woman I was discovering more of every day.
As the night wore on, we moved from the restaurant to a nearby park, walking hand in hand under the stars. Our conversation shifted from lighthearted topics to deeper discussions about life, identity, and the future. I found myself opening up to Cade in a way I hadn’t expected, and he listened with a sincerity that made me feel truly seen.
When we finally reached my doorstep, the night had settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft breeze rustling through the trees.
“I had an amazing time tonight,” I said, my voice soft.
“So did I,” Cade replied, stepping closer. “I hope we can do this again soon.”
Before I could respond, Cade leaned in and kissed me—gentle, tender, and filled with promise. It was a kiss that held no rush, no pressure—just the feeling of two people connecting in a way that felt right.
When he finally pulled back, I felt a warmth spread through me, deeper than I had expected. “Goodnight, Karissa,” Cade said with a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”
As he walked away, I touched my lips, still tingling from the kiss. I watched him until he disappeared down the driveway, my heart racing with the excitement of what the future might hold.
This was just the beginning—of my relationship with Cade, of my new career, and of the woman I was becoming.
Chapter 6: An Offer I Didn’t Expect
The next morning at the salon, I felt different. Lighter, more assured. I moved through my tasks with an ease I hadn’t felt before, my confidence growing with each client I styled.
But it was halfway through the day when something happened that would change the course of my journey once again.
Mrs. H walked into the salon, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. She greeted me with a warm smile, but there was something more behind her eyes—something that hinted at another offer, another opportunity.
“Kandy tells me you’ve been doing exceptionally well here,” Mrs. H said, her voice smooth and measured. “And I can see it for myself. You’ve come such a long way since that wedding.”
I blushed, still in awe of the transformation that had taken place. “Thank you, Mrs. H. I couldn’t have done it without all the help I’ve received here.”
Mrs. H nodded, but then her expression grew serious. “I have a proposition for you, Karissa. I’ve seen the way you work with clients—the way you bring out their beauty. And I think you’re capable of so much more.”
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “I’d like you to consider staying at the guesthouse longer. I’ll cover your expenses, and Kandy can continue helping with your training. But I believe there’s more for you to discover about yourself—both in your career and in your personal journey.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. The offer was beyond generous, but it also meant something more. It meant staying in this new world I had come to love. It meant more time with Cade. And most importantly, it meant continuing to grow into the person I had always wanted to be. It was a dream I hadn’t even dared to dream before, but now, standing on the brink of it, I knew what my answer had to be.
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “I would love to.”
As Mrs. H smiled in approval, I felt a surge of excitement. This was just the beginning—of my new life, my new career, and the new chapter with Cade.
And I couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.
Chapter 7: Refining Karissa’s Look
When I awoke the next morning in the guesthouse, the softness of the silk sheets against my skin reminded me just how far I had come. Yesterday had been a whirlwind, and yet, here I was, comfortably nestled in this new version of myself—no longer Kai, but fully Karissa. My mind wandered back to the offer Mrs. H had made: staying longer, transforming even more. It had felt like a dream, but now, as sunlight filtered through the curtains, I realized it was my new reality.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a message from Kandy: “Good morning, gorgeous! I’ll be there in an hour. We’ve got a fun day ahead!” A thrill of anticipation ran through me. Kandy had been by my side through every step, and she seemed to understand me in ways I hadn’t even understood myself. She was more than just an assistant; she was becoming my guide, helping me unlock aspects of myself I didn’t even know existed.
Sure enough, exactly one hour later, Kandy breezed into the guesthouse like a burst of energy, carrying garment bags and shoe boxes, with a full kit of beauty supplies in tow.
“Rise and shine, girl!” she chirped. “We’ve got work to do.”
Kandy had an eye for detail that was unparalleled, and somehow, she always knew exactly what would suit me. She laid out outfit after outfit—dresses, blouses, pants, skirts, heels—each one more stunning than the last. I stared at them in awe, feeling the excitement bubble inside me.
“Where did all these come from?” I asked, running my fingers over the soft fabric of a burgundy silk blouse.
Kandy smiled. “Oh honey, I know people. I had some pieces pulled for you by my stylist friends, but mostly, I’ve been shopping for you since the moment I met you. Mrs. H gave me the go-ahead to pull out all the stops, and well, I may have gone a bit overboard. But honestly, Karissa, I think I know your style better than you know yourself.”
It was true. Everything Kandy picked out for me felt perfect—more perfect than anything I’d ever chosen for myself. She had an uncanny ability to know exactly what I needed, whether it was a flattering A-line dress or the perfect shade of lipstick.
“But first,” Kandy said, as she motioned for me to sit at the vanity, “we’ve got to give your curls some love.”
I smiled, running my fingers through my hair, still soft and bouncy. It had been a turning point for me—unlocking a part of my femininity that I didn’t know I had. Since then, I’d fallen in love with how my curls framed my face and gave me a bold, confident look. I hadn’t just embraced the curls; I had learned how to work with them, taking pride in the styles I could create.
Kandy began combing through my hair, working in her magic with the diffuser and curling iron to bring more volume and definition to the style. “This is going to elevate your look even more, Karissa. You’ve got a natural gift for this—you’re going to kill it at the salon.”
As she worked, she explained the little tricks of the trade, how to enhance and refine the texture without frizz, and how to add just the right amount of bounce to the curls. The more we talked, the more excited I became about my own skills. I wasn’t just going through the motions—I was learning and growing into the woman I had always dreamed of becoming.
When Kandy was done, my hair looked even more radiant than before. The waves and curls cascaded around my face in perfect harmony. I felt alive, confident, like I was truly becoming the version of myself I had always wanted to see.
Chapter 8: Wardrobe Revolution
After my hair was set, Kandy led me to the mirror to see the outfits she had laid out. It was hard to believe that just a short while ago, I would’ve had no idea what to wear, how to present myself. Now, it felt as though every piece in front of me was an extension of my new identity—a wardrobe for Karissa, the woman I had become.
“Let’s start with something fun,” Kandy said, holding up a vibrant sundress that hugged all the right curves and flared at the waist. She handed it to me, and I slipped into it, instantly feeling the fabric glide against my skin. It was perfect—comfortable, chic, and just the right blend of playful and elegant.
We spent the next hour trying on different outfits, mixing and matching shoes and accessories. There were floral skirts, elegant blouses, high-waisted pants that elongated my figure, and sleek heels that made me feel powerful. Each look Kandy curated made me feel like I was stepping deeper into my femininity, like I was truly owning this new chapter of my life.
By the time we were finished, I had an entire wardrobe that suited every occasion—from casual brunches to formal events, and everything in between. Kandy had even found the perfect lingerie sets, something I would have never dared to purchase for myself, but now felt empowered to wear.
“Karissa, you’re ready,” Kandy said, smiling as she stood back to admire the final look. “You’ve got everything you need, and more importantly, you’re becoming everything you were meant to be.”
I felt my heart swell with gratitude. Kandy had been instrumental in helping me find this new version of myself, but she had also given me the tools to keep evolving.
Chapter 9: Stepping Boldly into Tomorrow
As I passed through the entranceway of the guesthouse to leave that morning, something new caught my eye. A set of photographs had been framed and carefully hung along the wall—images from the wedding, displayed like treasured memories for anyone who entered. I stopped in my tracks, a rush of emotions overwhelming me as I took in each image.
There was a stunning bridesmaid photo of me, standing arm-in-arm with the others, all of us beaming with shared joy and sisterhood. My smile in the photo was so genuine, so radiant, that I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked… happy. Truly happy. It was a side of me I hadn’t seen in such a long time—a woman who belonged, who fit seamlessly into this new world.
The next photo was equally heartwarming: Kandy and I, laughing hysterically as we ducked into the limo after the ceremony. Her arm was wrapped around me, our laughter frozen in time as we shared a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. I could almost hear the sound of our giggles, remember the feeling of being so lighthearted and carefree in that instant. For so long, I had feared that being Karissa meant letting go of joy, but this image told a different story. It was a reminder of the fun I was capable of having, the friendships I could nurture.
But the last photograph stopped me cold. It was a candid shot taken at the wedding reception, capturing a moment I hadn’t even realized was documented—Cade and I on the dance floor, our faces mere inches apart, right before our first kiss. His eyes were locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, and my expression was one of raw, unguarded emotion. It was as if we were the only two people in the room. I could feel the heat of that night return, the excitement and nervousness swirling in my chest.
I reached out to gently touch the frame, a mix of awe and longing coursing through me. Seeing Cade like this, in such an intimate moment, made something shift deep inside me. This wasn’t just a photograph; it was a glimpse into what was possible. What could be. For the first time, I allowed myself to imagine a future where moments like these weren’t fleeting, where I didn’t have to constantly wonder whether I was worthy of them.
The image of our almost-kiss became more than a memory—it became a promise. A vision of a world where Karissa wasn’t just an experiment, a temporary escape from my old self. She was real. She was the future. And maybe, just maybe, Cade could be a part of that too.
I felt a renewed sense of hope swell in my chest. This transformation wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, spiritual. I had crossed a threshold, leaving behind the fear that had once dominated my every thought. Karissa was no longer just an emerging idea; she was the woman I had always wanted to be.
As I stood there in front of those photographs, I realized that this was my moment. This was the moment where I truly began to believe that the life I dreamed of—one filled with joy, love, and possibility—could be mine.
Chapter 10: The Salon Beckons
The first few days after the wedding felt like a blur of excitement and new experiences. I had spent so long in a whirlwind of change, it was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Yet, at every moment, Kandy was there—guiding me, encouraging me, and reinforcing the idea that this journey was mine to embrace.
And now, the next phase was beginning. Mrs. H had mentioned the possibility of staying longer, of continuing my transformation, and it seemed as though that dream was becoming a reality. I had been offered a temporary role at the salon where Kandy worked, shadowing the stylists and learning about the world of beauty in a way I had never expected.
The first morning, as I entered the salon, I felt a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The scent of fresh shampoo, the hum of blow dryers, and the chatter of clients filled the air. I hadn’t anticipated how natural it would feel to be in this environment. I wasn’t just stepping into a salon—I was stepping into my future.
“Welcome to your new world,” Kandy said with a smile, handing me a crisp, black apron embroidered with the salon’s logo. “You’re gonna do great, Karissa. I can feel it.”
I tied the apron around my waist, feeling a sense of belonging that surprised me. The salon had always been a foreign space to me, but now, it felt like home. There was something soothing about the routine, the camaraderie, the art of it all. I had always thought of hair as just a part of the daily grind, but now I saw it as an expression, an extension of who we are.
Kandy introduced me to the other stylists, and each of them welcomed me with open arms. There was Tess, the colorist with a knack for vibrant, daring hues; Marco, who specialized in updos and wedding styles; and Jen, a curly-hair expert who had been making waves in the local scene. I felt a pang of awe as I realized how skilled they all were. I was entering their world, and it was thrilling to imagine where it might take me.
But what excited me the most was that Jen, the curly-hair expert, was already becoming my mentor.
“You’ve got an eye for this,” Jen said after watching me work on a few clients. “And a passion for it too. I can tell. Curly styles take patience, but they’re an art form. And something tells me you’ve got what it takes.”
I couldn’t believe the confidence Jen had in me, but it felt good—really good. As the days passed, I found myself developing a rhythm. I’d shadow Jen, learning the nuances of curly hair care, the proper techniques for defining curls, creating volume, and avoiding frizz. It was intricate work, and I loved every minute of it.
Kandy would often pop in and out of the salon, checking on me and offering encouragement, but she was also there as a client. She trusted me enough to let me work on her hair, and each time she left with her soft, bouncy curls, I felt a swell of pride.
One afternoon, Kandy and Jen pulled me aside with an idea that would change everything.
“Karissa,” Jen began, “we’ve been thinking. It’s time to take the next step.”
I raised an eyebrow, curious. “What do you mean?”
Kandy grinned and held up a bottle of curling solution. “It’s time for a perm.”
I froze for a second, memories flooding back to my first hairstyle change—the moment when I had truly begun to embrace the new me. That was the moment everything had shifted. And now, they were offering me the chance to push my transformation even further.
“You’ve been doing amazing work here,” Kandy continued, “but this perm will elevate your style and your skills. Plus, you’ll be the living, breathing example of the magic that curly hair can bring.” I looked at the mirror in front of me, seeing my reflection. I had already come so far, but there was still a piece of me yearning for more. The idea of a perm—one that would solidify my identity as a stylist, as Karissa—felt thrilling. It was a chance to not only change my hair but to make a statement. A declaration.
“I’m in,” I said, my heart racing with anticipation. Chapter 11: The Transformative Style
The salon is buzzing softly, but I feel detached from the ambient sounds. Claire’s prepping for my perm, carefully sectioning my hair while talking about the upcoming charity event. I nod, but my thoughts are elsewhere. This isn’t like the last hairstyle change. Back then, it was all about embracing the bombshell look—soft, voluminous curls that made me feel more womanly, more… obvious.
Now, it’s different. Mrs. H had said I needed something more polished, more refined. The event is bigger this time, and so are the stakes. I’m expected to represent not just myself, but her, and I’m determined to present myself in the most elegant way possible. The pressure is there, lingering beneath the surface of my confidence.
As Claire steps away to grab another product, I notice Rosa standing behind me, unrolling towels and working through my damp hair with her fingers. She’s always been there—quietly, almost invisibly, part of the background of my transformation. But today, her presence feels heavier.
“I’ve seen you here before,” she says, voice casual but with a weight behind it that makes me pause.
“Yeah,” I reply, offering a small uncomfortable smile. “You have been since the first time I visited.”
Rosa nods slowly. “You’ve changed a lot since then.” Her tone isn’t accusatory, but there’s something beneath her words, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
I meet her eyes in the mirror. “It’s been… a journey.”
“A journey,” she repeats, her voice soft. “Funny. Some of us dream of this our whole lives.”
The way she says it, it feels like more than just an observation. I hesitate, unsure how to respond. Rosa’s words sit heavily between us. She’s not accusing me of anything, but there’s a quiet challenge in them, like she’s inviting me to see beyond my own reflection.
“I didn’t plan for this,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. “It just… happened.”
“Lucky for you,” she says, her smile kind but tinged with something I can’t quite place—something that feels like longing, or maybe even loss. “You’ve been supported. Not everyone gets that.”
And there it is, the thing I’ve been trying to avoid acknowledging. I know she’s right. I know how rare it is to have the kind of support I’ve had. It’s not something I earned—it’s something that just fell into place. And that knowledge makes me feel both grateful and guilty.
“I know,” I say quietly, unsure if it’s enough. “I know I’ve been lucky.”
Rosa pauses for a moment, her fingers stilling in my hair. Then, she leans in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t have to feel guilty about it. But just remember… some of us have been dreaming of this forever. And we’re still dreaming.”
Her words linger, the weight of them settling deep in my chest. She isn’t bitter, not exactly. But she’s seen my transformation up close, watched it unfold in ways I haven’t even fully processed. And for her, it’s not just a transformation—it’s a reminder of everything she hasn’t had.
“I don’t always feel like I deserve it,” I confess, surprised by my own vulnerability.
Rosa steps back slightly, looking at me through the mirror. “Deserve it or not, it’s yours now. Just don’t lose yourself in the process.”
Claire returns, taking over from Rosa, who quietly moves away. But her presence lingers in the back of my mind as Claire finishes rolling the sections of my hair into the perm rods. This second perm isn’t about becoming more feminine—it’s about becoming more… polished. More in control. More of what people expect me to be.
As the chemicals set in and the smell fills the air, I stare at my reflection. I’ll look incredible at the charity event, no doubt. Mrs. H will be proud of me. Everyone will. But Rosa’s words keep echoing in my mind, reminding me that this transformation isn’t just about how I look.
It’s about who I’m becoming. And whether I’m doing it for me, or for everyone else.
As I sat in the stylist’s chair, I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. Claire prepped my hair with care, talking me through the process and explaining the science behind the technique. It was fascinating, and I found myself absorbing every detail like a sponge. Kandy stood nearby, her reassuring smile reminding me that this was my moment.
“You’re gonna love this,” Claire said as she began applying the perm solution, sectioning off my hair into neat, meticulous curls. “This isn’t just a perm—it’s a reinvention.”
The smell of the solution filled the air as I leaned back, allowing myself to fully relax. This wasn’t just another salon visit; this was part of my evolution. My heart raced as the minutes ticked by under the dryer hood, and soon enough, the time came to rinse and reveal.
When Claire finished setting the curls and removed the rollers, I could already tell something was different. The weight, the texture—it was luxurious. Full of body, full of life.
I watched in awe as Claire dried and styled my hair, coaxing each curl into place. The result was nothing short of breathtaking. My hair was a cascade of perfectly sculpted curls, each one bouncing with energy and vibrance. It was transformative, not just in the way it looked but in the way it made me feel.
As I admired myself in the mirror, Kandy’s enthusiastic voice broke through.
“Karissa, you’re a curly-haired goddess,” she said, snapping a picture. “This is your look.”
I smiled, twirling a little, feeling every inch of the luxurious weight. The curls weren’t just hair—they were bold, feminine, powerful. This transformation felt like me, not some act or pretense. The more polished style radiated sophistication, and yet I couldn’t shake a lingering thought. Rosa’s words… her questions… They hung there, slightly out of reach.
Kandy noticed my quiet pause, lowering her phone as her eyes flickered with curiosity.
“What’s on your mind, girl?”
I turned, folding my arms lightly, trying to find the right words. “Rosa… the girl who washes hair… she asked me some things earlier. About the perm, the transformation. It felt… I don’t know, awkward somehow. But I couldn’t figure out why.”
Kandy’s face softened immediately, and she took a seat, patting the chair next to her.
“She’s curious about you, Karissa. She’s been watching your journey closely. But there’s something you should know,” she said, leaning in a little. “Rosa’s trans too.”
That hit me like a gentle wave, unexpected but undeniable. I blinked. “I… I didn’t know.”
“Most people wouldn’t. She keeps it private. But she’s had a rough road, nothing like what you’ve had.” Kandy’s voice softened, full of understanding. “Not everyone has the support you got, or the chance to step into themselves the way you did. Rosa’s probably wondering what it would’ve been like if she’d had your luck.”
I processed the revelation, recalling Rosa’s gaze—those moments when it seemed like she was searching for something behind my smile. She wasn’t just curious. She was… seeing me, in a way I hadn’t realized.
“I couldn’t even tell…” I muttered, almost to myself.
Kandy shrugged. “It’s not about telling. Some of us blend in, some don’t. But she’s working through her own struggles. You? You give her hope. Just… remember that next time.”
I looked back into the mirror, and I saw more than just my polished curls. I saw Rosa, her struggles, her resilience, and her quiet admiration. And I saw myself, not just as someone who got lucky, but someone who had the responsibility to acknowledge the privilege I’d been given—and to offer grace to those still fighting.
Chapter 12: Charting New Directions
Over the following weeks, my confidence in the salon grew. The clients loved my work, especially the curly-haired ones who saw in me a stylist who truly understood them. I was no longer just learning the craft; I was living it, perfecting it. Jen even let me take on my own clients, and each time I transformed someone’s hair, I felt a deeper connection to the artistry of it all.
It wasn’t long before Mrs. H made another visit to the salon.
“You’ve come a long way, Karissa,” she said, inspecting my work with a discerning eye. “You’ve proven yourself not only as a stylist but as a woman of poise and talent. I couldn’t be prouder.”
The pride in her voice warmed me. I was no longer just playing a role—I was thriving in it. I was Karissa, a stylist, a woman with purpose, and a future full of possibilities.
As I stood in the salon, surrounded by my newfound community, I realized that the journey was just beginning. There were so many more doors to open, more transformations to embrace.
And I couldn’t wait to see what came next.
Chapter 13: Invitation to High Society
A few weeks passed after my perm and subsequent immersion into the salon world, and everything felt more natural. I was becoming known for my work with curly hair, and with each passing day, I felt more confident. My hair, my clothes, my posture—it all fit the new me. The stylistic attention to detail that Kandy and Jen had fostered in me transformed not only my outward appearance but also how I interacted with the world.
One afternoon, I was finishing up a client when Mrs. H strolled into the salon. There was something about her energy today—more purposeful, with a twinkle of excitement in her eye.
“Karissa, darling,” she called to me as I finished pinning up the last curl of my client’s updo. “I have something exciting for you. A wonderful opportunity.”
Curious, I excused myself from the client and walked over to her. Mrs. H’s voice was low, conspiratorial, but tinged with excitement. She handed me a delicate invitation, embossed with silver script and bound with a satin ribbon.
“What’s this?” I asked, intrigued.
“It’s a personal invitation to The Esplanade Gala,” she said with a hint of pride. “One of the most prestigious events in the city. It’s a chance for you to meet society’s finest and, more importantly, a chance for them to meet you.”
My heart fluttered. A gala? Among the city’s elite? It felt like an impossible leap, yet I knew Mrs. H wouldn’t have brought it to me unless she thought I was ready.
“But I don’t have anything to wear,” I said, glancing down at my simple black salon attire.
Mrs. H smiled indulgently, as though I had said something silly. “That’s already taken care of, darling. Kandy and I have been working on that. We’ve had several outfits prepared for you. I think you’ll be very pleased.”
Kandy appeared from behind the counter, her face lit up with excitement. “We’ve got a whole wardrobe, Karissa, just for you. I think you’ll find everything fits like a glove.”
I blinked in disbelief. All this time, Kandy had been working with Mrs. H to provide me with a wardrobe fit for a high-society gala. I felt a rush of gratitude and excitement.
Kandy’s voice softened. “You’ve worked so hard, and this is your reward. It’s time to take your place.”
Chapter 14: Revealed in the Fitting Room
Later that day, I stood in front of the mirror in the salon’s back room, surrounded by racks of designer dresses. There were gowns of every color, every style, each more elegant than the next. It was a dream—like I had walked into my own personal boutique.
Kandy stood by my side, guiding me through the selections. “This one’s perfect for the gala,” she said, holding up a striking satin gown. “It compliments your hair, your skin tone… everything.”
I slipped into the dress with Kandy’s help, and it felt like it had been made just for me. The fabric hugged my waist and flowed elegantly to the floor. A sweetheart neckline framed my décolletage in a way that was both tasteful and bold, while the cut of the dress accentuated my newly sculpted curves. I looked like a woman who belonged on the red carpet.
Kandy stood back and admired her work, her eyes brimming with satisfaction. “You’re ready, Karissa. They’re not going to know what hit them.”
I smiled back at her, but a tiny knot of nervousness formed in my stomach. Could I really pull this off? Could I, Karissa, truly hold my own in a world of high society and power?
Kandy must have sensed my apprehension because she placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You’ve come so far already. Trust me, you’ve got this. And besides, you’ll have me there if you need anything.”
I nodded, the knot slowly dissolving. Kandy’s confidence was contagious, and I felt more sure of myself with her by my side.
Chapter 15: The Esplanade Gala
The night of the gala arrived quicker than I anticipated. Cade, my chaperone from the wedding, had arranged to pick me up in a classic black limousine. As the car pulled up in front of the guest house, I took one last glance in the mirror. My hair was styled in cascading curls, each one glossy and perfectly set. My makeup was flawless—thanks to Kandy—and my gown shimmered under the soft lights. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me, yet she felt more like me than ever before.
Cade emerged from the limousine, dressed in a crisp black tuxedo, looking impossibly handsome. His eyes widened as he saw me step out of the house.
“Karissa,” he breathed, offering me his hand. “You look absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice steady even though my heart was racing. There was something in his gaze, a warmth that sent a spark of excitement through me. We had shared a dance at the wedding, but now I was starting to feel something deeper developing between us.
As we rode through the city towards the Esplanade, Cade leaned closer, his arm resting lightly on mine. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he admitted. “Spending the evening with you.”
I smiled, feeling a tingle run down my spine. There was no denying the chemistry between us. Cade had a quiet confidence about him—a steadiness that made me feel at ease even when the world felt overwhelming.
Chapter 16: Making an Entrance
When we arrived at the Esplanade, it was everything Mrs. H had described—opulent, grand, and filled with the most elite members of society. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above us, casting a soft glow over the room as the guests milled about, dressed in their finest attire. The grand ballroom was a sea of tuxedos, evening gowns, and glittering jewelry.
As Cade escorted me inside, I felt the weight of eyes on me. People were noticing me—Karissa—not the person I used to be. I held my head high, channeling the confidence that Kandy had instilled in me. I was no longer hiding behind someone else’s expectations. I was here, fully and unapologetically me.
Kandy had been right about the dress. It was perfect. The emerald green shimmered under the lights, and my curls bounced with every step. I could feel people turning to look, but instead of feeling self-conscious, I reveled in it.
We mingled through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with society’s elite, and with each introduction, I was more convinced of my place there. I wasn’t just pretending to belong—I did belong.
At one point, Mrs. H found me and pulled me aside for a private word. “You’re making quite the impression,” she said with a smile, handing me a flute of champagne. “You look stunning, Karissa. And people are taking notice. This is just the beginning.”
The evening progressed with a swirl of introductions, laughter, and champagne. Cade stayed by my side, always the perfect gentleman, but there was a growing spark between us. It wasn’t just his physical presence—it was the way he made me feel. He saw me, the real Karissa, and I could sense the attraction deepening.
After an hour or so of mingling, the lights dimmed and the band struck up a slow tune. Cade offered me his hand, and with a gentle tug, he led me to the dance floor. The music enveloped us as he pulled me into his arms, guiding me with a grace I hadn’t expected.
“You’ve got the whole room mesmerized,” he said softly, his breath warm against my ear.
“So do you,” I teased back, trying to hide the flutter in my chest.
We moved effortlessly across the dance floor, my body swaying to the rhythm of the music. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t leading—I was being led. It was a new sensation, thrilling and intimate, and I found myself leaning into Cade’s touch, trusting him completely.
As the song came to an end, Cade leaned in and whispered, “Would you stay a little longer, Karissa? I don’t want this night to end.”
And with that, my world expands even further, the lines between past and present blurring beautifully.
The evening flowed like a dream that I never wanted to wake from. After the dance, Cade led me off the floor, his hand resting lightly on my lower back, a gesture that felt intimate and protective. We mingled with more guests, but I was acutely aware of his presence by my side, a constant source of strength and quiet admiration.
As the night wore on, the time for photographs arrived. Professional photographers flitted about, capturing moments of elegance and grandeur. I posed with the other women, including Kandy and Mrs. H, feeling every bit as poised and refined as they were. My posture, my smile, my confidence—everything was in harmony. I wasn’t pretending anymore. I was Karissa, and Karissa was beautiful, poised, and wholly feminine.
One moment stood out more than any other. As I stood with the group of ladies, laughing and adjusting my gown for the next photo, Mrs. H suddenly wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into the frame with a wide smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced to the gathering around us, “Meet the stunning Miss Karissa, our newest gem.”
There was an instant of surprise, then applause. It was a declaration—not only to the people in attendance, but also to myself. Mrs. H was making it clear that I was one of them, fully accepted and embraced. I smiled wide for the camera, the applause swelling around me, a swell of emotion making me feel as though I was floating.
Chapter 17: A Private Moment with Cade
The evening grew more intimate as guests started filtering into smaller groups, deep in conversation. Cade found me again, a soft smile playing on his lips as he approached.
“Let’s get some air,” he suggested, offering his arm.
I took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his presence. He led me out to a small terrace overlooking the city lights. The air was cool, but comforting. We stood in silence for a moment, the music from the gala faintly drifting through the doors behind us.
“You’ve been amazing tonight,” Cade said, breaking the quiet. His voice was gentle, but there was a weight behind his words. “I’m proud of you.”
I turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Proud? Of me?”
He nodded, stepping closer. “You’ve stepped into this world with such grace, Karissa. I’ve watched you tonight… It’s like you’ve always belonged here. And yet, there’s something else too. Something real.”
I swallowed, unsure how to respond. His words resonated deeply, touching on the very thing I had been grappling with. The transformation felt right, but it was still so new.
Cade didn’t push me to answer. Instead, he closed the distance between us, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. His touch was light, but it sent a thrill through me.
“You’re more than just beautiful, Karissa. You’re… captivating,” he whispered, his hand lingering near my cheek.
Before I could say anything, he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—it was tender, careful, as though he wanted to savor the moment.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.
My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to respond, but I didn’t need to. The warmth between us said everything.
Chapter 18: An Offer from Mrs. H
As we stood there, enveloped in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the door to the terrace opened, and Mrs. H stepped out with a knowing smile.
“Darlin’, there you are,” she said, her eyes glancing between Cade and me. There was a hint of amusement in her expression, but she didn’t comment on what she had interrupted.
Instead, she held out her hand to me, beckoning me back into the fold. “Come with me for a moment, Karissa. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
I cast a quick glance at Cade, who gave me an encouraging nod. “I’ll be waiting for you inside,” he said, his voice warm and steady.
I followed Mrs. H back into the building, through the grand hallways until we reached a quieter lounge area, away from the bustle of the party. She sat down on one of the plush velvet sofas and gestured for me to do the same.
“I’ve been watching you tonight, Karissa,” she began, her tone softer than usual. “You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time, and I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished. But I know there’s more for you.”
I blinked, unsure where she was going with this. “More?” I echoed.
Mrs. H nodded. “Yes, more. You’ve proven you can walk in this world with grace and beauty, but I see potential in you that goes beyond just fitting in. I believe you have something special, Karissa—something that can take you even further.”
My mind raced. Was she talking about my work in the salon? Or something else entirely?
“I want to offer you a chance to continue your journey,” Mrs. H said, her eyes locking onto mine. “I have connections—people who can help you refine your skills, build your confidence, and perhaps even enter the world of fashion or styling on a much larger scale. I’ve already seen how talented you are with hair, especially curly styles. You have an instinct for it.”
I sat there, absorbing her words. Fashion? Styling? Was she really offering me a path into that world?
“I know Kandy’s been helping you so far,” Mrs. H continued, “and I’d like her to keep assisting you. She’ll be your guide through this next phase, ensuring that you have everything you need—clothing, coaching, the right introductions.”
My breath caught in my throat. This was more than I had ever imagined. It wasn’t just about attending a gala anymore. It was about being molded into someone who could thrive in this world, someone who could truly belong.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I finally managed, my voice shaky.
Mrs. H smiled warmly. “You don’t have to say anything right now, darling. Just think about it. I believe in you, Karissa. And I think, deep down, you believe in yourself too.”
I nodded, my mind spinning with possibilities.
“And there’s something else,” Mrs. H added, her tone becoming more serious. “I’d like you to consider staying at the guesthouse a bit longer. It would give you time to fully immerse yourself in this transformation, without the distractions of everyday life. You can focus on becoming the woman you were always meant to be.”
The offer hung in the air, heavy with meaning. It was a chance to continue down this path, to embrace this new identity even further. To become someone I had only dreamed of.
“I’ll think about it,” I whispered, my heart pounding.
Chapter 19: Back to the Party
When I returned to the party, Cade was waiting for me near the bar, a glass of champagne in hand. He smiled when he saw me, but there was a question in his eyes.
“Everything alright?” he asked, handing me the glass.
I took a sip, letting the cool bubbles calm my nerves. “Yeah,” I said softly. “Just… a lot to think about.”
Cade’s gaze softened. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you, Karissa.”
His words were simple, but they meant everything in that moment. I wasn’t alone. I had Cade, Kandy, and Mrs. H. I had support, love, and opportunity.
As the night wore on, Cade and I shared more dances, more stolen moments of closeness. But the conversation with Mrs. H lingered in the back of my mind. The offer she had made—it felt like a dream come true. But it was also daunting.
By the time the gala drew to a close, I had made up my mind. I wasn’t ready to step back into my old life just yet. I wanted to see where this new path would take me.
Chapter 20: The Decision Point
The following morning, I sat in the guesthouse, gazing out the window at the sprawling estate. The birds were singing, the sun was warm on my skin, and everything felt peaceful.
Kandy had brought me breakfast, and we were sitting together at the small dining table.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
I looked down at the cup of coffee in my hands, my mind still racing from the night before.
“I think…” I began, taking a deep breath. “I think I’m going to stay, I feel like I must.”
Kandy’s face lit up with a wide smile. “Yes! I knew it!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and wrapping me in a tight hug. “This is going to be amazing, Karissa. You won’t regret it.”
I smiled back, my heart swelling with excitement and nervousness all at once. There was no turning back now.
Thus, Karissa made her decision to embrace the new life being offered to her. The journey ahead would be one of discovery, challenge, and transformation—both inside and out.
Chapter 22: Owning the New Life
The days following my decision to stay were a whirlwind of activity and emotion. The guesthouse became my sanctuary, a place where I could immerse myself in the transformation that was underway. Mrs. H, true to her word, arranged for everything I could possibly need to flourish in this new world. Each day felt like another layer was being peeled back, revealing more of the woman I was becoming.
Kandy had become my guiding light. She was not just my stylist but my confidante, my coach, and my sister in every way that mattered. Every morning, we would sit in the bright guesthouse kitchen, sipping coffee and planning out my day. But before anything else, Kandy always made sure my hair was perfect—whether it was a sleek style for a casual luncheon or the voluminous curls she knew suited me so well for more glamorous evenings.
“You know,” Kandy mused one morning as she styled my curls into perfect ringlets, “you have a real gift for this.” She was smiling in the mirror, her eyes twinkling as she worked. “You have such an instinct for what looks good on you—and not just on you, but on others too. You’re going to be something special in this world, Karissa. I can feel it.”
Her words stayed with me throughout the day. I’d always admired Kandy’s skills, how she effortlessly brought out the best in people. But to hear her say that about me—it was humbling and thrilling all at once.
Chapter 23: Building a Routine
The days began to take on a rhythm, each one bringing new experiences. Mrs. H’s social circle opened up to me like a blooming flower. Invitations to luncheons, soirées, and events began to fill my calendar, and with each one, I grew more comfortable in my new skin. But it wasn’t just about attending the events—it was about learning to navigate them, to hold my own in conversation, to exude confidence.
Cade, ever the gentleman, had become a constant presence in my life. He escorted me to most events, his steady arm a reassuring anchor. Our connection grew deeper with every stolen glance, every shared laugh. It was becoming impossible to ignore the pull between us, but Cade never pushed. He seemed to know exactly what I needed—time, space, and the freedom to embrace this journey at my own pace.
Yet, in the quiet moments when I was alone, I found my thoughts returning to Kandy’s words. Could I really have a future in this world—not just as a socialite, but as someone who could make an impact? The idea of working as a stylist intrigued me. It wasn’t just about the clothes or the makeup—it was about transformation, about helping others see their beauty just as Kandy had helped me see mine.
Chapter 24: When Realization Hits
It happened one afternoon, while Kandy and I were in the guesthouse, preparing for a charity gala Mrs. H was hosting. I had been watching Kandy work on my hair, studying her movements, when suddenly I asked, “Can I try?”
Kandy blinked, surprised. “Try what, hon?”
“I want to try doing my hair,” I said, my voice more certain than I felt.
She raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll guide you.”
I stood up and took the curling iron from her, my heart pounding in my chest. As I began to work, Kandy stood beside me, offering tips and encouragement, but for the most part, she let me take the lead. And as I twisted the iron through my hair, watching the curls form, something clicked. This was more than just styling—it was creation, artistry.
When I finished, Kandy grinned wide. “See? I told you. You’ve got the touch.”
I looked at myself in the mirror, hardly believing what I saw. My curls were soft, bouncy, and full of life, exactly how I’d envisioned them. But it wasn’t just about the look. It was about how I felt—confident, capable, empowered.
That night at the gala, I couldn’t stop smiling. Not just because I felt beautiful, but because I felt like I had found something that was mine—something that went beyond appearances. I wasn’t just Karissa the debutante. I was Karissa, the stylist.
Chapter 25: Opportunity Knocks
The following week, Mrs. H called me into her study. She was sitting behind her grand mahogany desk, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Karissa, I’ve been hearing good things,” she began, her eyes twinkling. “Kandy tells me you’ve been taking an interest in hair styling.”
I nodded, unsure where this was going.
“Well,” Mrs. H continued, leaning forward, “I think it’s time we put that talent to good use. The charity I’m involved with—the one we held the gala for—they’re in need of volunteers for a very special project. They’re opening a salon for women in need, women who are looking to rebuild their lives. I think you would be a perfect fit to help.”
I stared at her, my heart racing. “You want me to… work there?”
Mrs. H smiled warmly. “Yes, I do. I’ve seen how much you’ve grown, Karissa, and I believe this is the next step for you. This isn’t just about appearances. This is about helping women find their confidence, just like you found yours. And I think you could be an inspiration to them.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. This was it—the chance to do something real, something meaningful.
“I’d love to,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
Mrs. H’s smile widened. “I thought you might.”
Chapter 26: Salon Days, New Horizons
The first day at the charity salon was nerve-wracking. The space was small but welcoming, with warm colors and comfortable chairs. Women from all walks of life came through the doors, each one with a story, each one looking for a fresh start.
Kandy was by my side, guiding me through the process, but as the day went on, I found my footing. The first woman I worked with was nervous, hesitant to trust me with her hair, but as I gently combed through her curls and began the transformation, I could see the change in her. By the time I finished, she was smiling—really smiling, for what seemed like the first time in a long while.
“You look amazing,” I told her, and she blushed, her hand flying to her new curls.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I feel… different. I feel like I can start over.”
And that’s when I knew. This was what I was meant to do. Not just styling hair, but helping people transform—inside and out.
Chapter 27: Future in Focus with Cade
In the midst of all of this, Cade and I had grown closer. He was my rock, always there to support me, but never pushing me in any direction I wasn’t ready for. Our stolen moments together became more frequent—quiet dinners, long walks, and shared laughter that felt like a lifeline in the midst of everything.
One evening, after a particularly fulfilling day at the salon, Cade invited me to dinner at a small, intimate restaurant in the city. The candlelight flickered between us as we shared stories about our days, but there was an unspoken tension in the air—something we had both been avoiding, but couldn’t any longer.
“Karissa,” Cade began, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about us… about where we’re headed.”
I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat.
“I want you to know,” he continued, reaching across the table to take my hand, “that I’m in this for the long haul. I care about you more than I can put into words, and I want to be there for you… for everything.”
His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and I allowed myself to fully imagine a future with him—one filled with love, support, and partnership.
“I care about you too, Cade,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want you in it.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and leaned across the table to kiss me—soft, tender, and full of promise.
As I walked back to the guesthouse that night, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. I had found my place in this world—both in my work and in my relationship with Cade. The transformation wasn’t just about becoming someone new—it was about discovering who I truly was.
Chapter 28: Finding Home in the Guesthouse
The guesthouse, with its warm sunlight filtering through elegant curtains, felt more like home every day. As the weeks passed, the chaotic rush of the wedding began to settle into a gentle rhythm of daily life. I had fully immersed myself in this new world, and Kandy’s presence was constant. She became more than just my stylist—she was my guide, my mentor, and, perhaps most importantly, my friend.
Kandy had taken it upon herself to be sure I was dressed impeccably for every occasion. My wardrobe was nothing short of dazzling, and though I often wondered how it had all come together so quickly, the answer was always Kandy. She had an innate understanding of what I needed, anticipating my every desire before I even knew it myself.
“I know how to bring out the best in you,” she’d say with a smile, handing me yet another perfect dress or pair of heels that made me feel like I was floating on air. I wasn’t just dressing as Karissa—I was becoming her, and every day felt more natural.
As I embraced my new life, Kandy helped me navigate the emotions that came with it. There were moments when I’d look in the mirror and wonder how much of “Kai” still existed, but those thoughts would fade as I became more comfortable in this feminine space. Kai had been a part of me, sure, but Karissa was who I was always meant to be. It was a realization that filled me with both peace and excitement.
Chapter 29: Widening My World
Mrs. H, ever the gracious hostess, began introducing me to more of her elite social circle. The guesthouse was a hub of activity, with luncheons, dinners, and small social gatherings happening nearly every week. I was quickly thrust into a world of wealth and sophistication, but rather than feeling overwhelmed, I found myself thriving.
The other women in Mrs. H’s circle were charming, sharp, and often intimidating, but I soon realized that I could hold my own. I learned the art of small talk, how to gracefully navigate conversations, and how to present myself with the poise and elegance that this world demanded.
Still, there was a lingering question in my mind: How would my family react if they saw me now? The thought haunted me in quiet moments—what would they say? Would they understand? Or would they reject the person I had become? For now, it was a question I wasn’t ready to answer .Chapter 30: Cade’s Growing Affection
Cade remained a steadfast presence in my life. Whenever I felt overwhelmed by the whirlwind of social events or the emotional complexity of my transformation, Cade was there, offering me a steady hand or a quiet moment of solace. His affection for me was unmistakable, but there was an unspoken respect for the journey I was on.
One evening, after a particularly luxurious dinner hosted by Mrs. H, Cade and I took a walk through the expansive garden that bordered the estate. The air was crisp, and the night was lit by a soft moon.
“You seem… different,” Cade said as we strolled down the path.
I glanced at him, curious. “Different how?”
“More confident. You’ve always been beautiful, Karissa, but now… you seem like you’ve finally found your place.”
His words resonated with me. I did feel different. More settled. More sure of myself. And yet, as we walked, there was still a part of me that felt cautious—wondering where all of this was headed.
As our walk ended, Cade leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek. “I want to be a part of your world, Karissa,” he said softly. “In whatever way you’ll allow me to be.”
The kiss that followed was soft, tender—full of promise.
Chapter 31: Second Chances
One morning, as I sat in the guesthouse kitchen with Kandy, sipping coffee and discussing the day’s plans, Mrs. H made an unexpected appearance. She was dressed in her usual crisp, elegant attire, her eyes bright with some unspoken excitement.
“Karissa,” she began, “I have an idea.”
I raised an eyebrow, curious. “What kind of idea?”
Mrs. H took a seat at the table, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “You’ve been doing such a marvelous job fitting into our social world. But I think it’s time you did more. I’ve been involved with a charity organization that provides support for women in need—women looking for a fresh start. We’re opening a salon where they can come and receive not just a makeover, but a transformation. I think you’d be perfect to help.”
My heart raced at the thought. A salon for women in need—women looking for the kind of confidence and transformation I had experienced myself.
“Kandy mentioned you have a natural gift for styling,” Mrs. H continued, her voice gentle but firm. “I think this could be a wonderful opportunity for you to not only give back, but to fully embrace your role as Karissa.”
I sat back, letting her words sink in. This wasn’t just about attending social events or learning to navigate the elite circles—this was a chance to do something meaningful. To help other women on their own journeys of transformation.
“I’d love to,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Chapter 32: Salon of New Beginnings
The salon was modest but inviting, with warm colors and cozy chairs that made it feel more like a sanctuary than a place of business. Women from all walks of life came through the doors, each one with a story, each one searching for something—whether it was confidence, empowerment, or just a little bit of hope.
Kandy was by my side, guiding me as I navigated the intricacies of working in the salon. It wasn’t just about the technical aspects of styling hair, although I found that I had a natural talent for it, particularly with curly styles—a skill I had honed with Kandy’s help. No, this was about much more than that. It was about connection. About listening to these women’s stories and offering them not just a new hairstyle, but a new sense of self.
One afternoon, as I carefully curled the hair of a young woman who had been through more than anyone her age should have to endure, I realized that this was what I had been searching for all along. A way to give back. A way to help others find the same confidence I had found in myself.
Chapter 33: Outside Threats
But with every step forward, there were always challenges. One evening, as I prepared to leave the salon, I received a message on my phone from a number I hadn’t seen in months. It was from an old friend—someone from my past life as Kai.
The message was short and simple, but it sent a chill down my spine:
“Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while. We should catch up.”
I stared at the message, my heart pounding. How would I explain this new life to someone from my old one? Would they understand? Or would they see it as a betrayal of the person they thought they knew?
The question lingered in my mind as I made my way back to the guesthouse, where Kandy was waiting for me.
As I settled into the guesthouse that evening, I couldn’t help but wonder what the future held. The salon had become a place of purpose, Cade was becoming a more significant part of my life, and yet… there was still the looming question of my past. How long could I keep it separate from my present?
But for now, I chose to focus on the here and now—on the transformation I was undergoing, on the relationships I was building, and on the life that was unfolding before me.
Chapter 34: Bridging Two Worlds
The gentle hum of the salon in the background helped me focus as I stared at my phone, the message from an old friend lighting up the screen like a ghost from the past. My heart raced, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond right away. We should catch up.
Catch up on what? How could I possibly explain the life I was now living—the person I had become? Kai was a shadow, a figment of a time before, but he wasn’t gone. He still lingered in my memory, tied to old friends, family, and a life that I had left behind. The internal conflict tugged at me. Who was I now? Was Kai still a part of me, or had Karissa fully replaced him?
I shoved my phone back into my purse, unable to deal with the flood of emotions the message stirred. Instead, I focused on the present. The salon had become my sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself in the rhythm of transformation—not just for the women who came through its doors, but for myself as well.
Kandy noticed my silence as we closed up for the evening. “Everything okay, hon?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just… a lot on my mind.”
She seemed to know better than to push, simply offering me a soft squeeze on the shoulder. “You’re doing great, you know. You’re helping so many women find themselves. It’s inspiring.”
Her words warmed me, but they also reminded me of the weight I was carrying. How could I continue helping others find themselves if I was still grappling with who I truly was?
Chapter 35: Ghosts from the Past
A few days later, the past caught up with me. I had managed to avoid responding to the message, but it seemed fate had other plans. As I was leaving the salon one afternoon, I spotted a familiar face waiting outside. My heart nearly stopped when I realized it was Chris, an old friend from my Kai days.
He looked almost the same, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he approached. “Karissa, right?” he asked, clearly unsure but recognizing something familiar.
I nodded, my stomach twisting in knots. “Chris… wow, it’s been a long time.”
He smiled, but there was hesitation in it. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure it was you at first. You look… different.”
The understatement of the century.
We stood there awkwardly for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us. I braced myself for the barrage of questions I knew was coming.
“I saw you here and thought… well, I thought I’d come say hi,” he finally said, his voice a little strained. “You, uh, look great. Really great.”
His kindness was unexpected, and it disarmed me. I had prepared myself for confusion, maybe even judgment, but Chris seemed genuinely curious and supportive. Still, I couldn’t ignore the tension in the air. There was so much he didn’t know, so much I hadn’t explained.
“Thanks,” I said softly, still feeling the unease. “A lot has changed.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. But… I’d like to catch up. I mean, if you’re okay with it. I just— I miss you, Kai—Karissa.”
The sound of my old name, even as he corrected himself, hit me like a punch to the gut. But there was something reassuring in the way he said it. Like he was trying to understand, to accept this new version of me.
“I’d like that,” I said, surprising myself with the truth of it. “But maybe not today. It’s… it’s been a lot.”
Chris seemed to understand and gave me a warm smile. “Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
As he left, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The encounter had gone better than I could’ve imagined, but it left me feeling unsettled. The past wasn’t something I could hide from forever, no matter how deeply I buried myself in my new life.
Chapter 37: Cade at the Gala
The distraction of the upcoming gala was welcome. Mrs. H had secured tickets to one of the most prestigious social events of the season, and Cade had asked me to be his date. It was the first time we’d be attending something so public together, and the excitement was mixed with nerves.
Kandy, as usual, was a lifesaver. She had already begun preparing for the gala days in advance, making sure I had the perfect dress, accessories, and hairstyle. “We’ll go with something classic, but a little daring,” she said, as she meticulously curled my hair in the salon mirror.
I watched my reflection as the curls bounced into place, framing my face in a way that felt both elegant and playful. The perm had transformed my look weeks ago, and now Kandy’s touch perfected it. There was no denying that I had fully embraced my femininity, and in moments like these, I felt beautiful, confident, and ready to take on the world.
“I’ve never seen you this happy,” Kandy remarked with a grin. “You’re glowing.”
I smiled at her in the mirror, feeling the truth of her words. There was a sense of completeness that I hadn’t felt before, and I knew it had everything to do with the way I was finally allowing myself to be seen.
The night of the gala was nothing short of magical. Cade picked me up in a sleek, black car, his eyes lighting up as he saw me in the deep red gown Kandy had chosen for me. “You look stunning,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
The event was held at an opulent ballroom in the heart of downtown, where chandeliers sparkled above the polished marble floors, and the city’s elite gathered to mingle, network, and be seen. As we entered arm in arm, I felt the familiar flutter of nerves, but Cade’s presence grounded me. He was the perfect gentleman—attentive, kind, and protective.
But as the evening wore on, I couldn’t ignore the eyes on me. The whispers. This was a different world, and while Cade seemed at ease, I was still adjusting. The compliments were endless—on my dress, my hair, the way I carried myself—but there was an undercurrent of curiosity that reminded me of Chris’s encounter earlier. How many of these people could sense the past I was trying to leave behind?
I tried to push the thoughts away, focusing instead on the way Cade held me close as we danced, the way his smile made my heart race. For tonight, I was Karissa—beautiful, confident, and fully in the moment.
Chapter 38: Invitation to Stay
Toward the end of the evening, after hours of mingling and dancing, I found myself in conversation with Mrs. H’s husband, the bride’s father. He had been warm and welcoming since the wedding, but tonight he seemed particularly focused on me.
“You’ve really made quite an impression, Karissa,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I don’t think anyone could’ve guessed you were so new to this world.”
I blushed, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you. It’s been… an adjustment, but a good one.”
He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve brought such light into our lives—into Kandy’s and even Cade’s. We’d love to have you stay a bit longer. The guesthouse is yours for as long as you need it.”
The offer took me by surprise, and I hesitated. “I… I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You’re family now. And besides, I think there’s still much more for you to discover here. With Kandy’s help, of course.”
My heart raced at the thought of staying longer, of continuing this journey. The temptation was undeniable, especially with Cade’s growing affection and the support of Mrs. H and Kandy. But it was also overwhelming. Could I really leave my old life behind for good?
As I stood there, my mind swirling with possibilities, Cade appeared at my side, his arm slipping around my waist. He smiled down at me, his eyes full of promise. And in that moment, as the band played softly in the background and the night seemed full of endless possibilities, I knew the answer.
“Yes,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
And with that, the next chapter of my life began.
Chapter 39: Settling In
The days following the gala were filled with a kind of magic I had never known. The guesthouse had become more than just a place to stay—it was my sanctuary, a space where I could fully explore this new chapter of my life. Mrs. H’s offer for me to stay longer felt like an open door into a world I had once only dreamt about. With Kandy by my side as my mentor and guide, and Cade growing closer with each passing day, I could feel myself transforming in more ways than just the physical.
Each morning I woke up in the soft, luxurious bed, sunlight streaming through the large windows, and I could hardly believe it was real. Kandy had taken it upon herself to help expand my wardrobe—elegant dresses, tailored pantsuits, delicate lingerie, and casual outfits for days spent at the salon. She had an uncanny ability to pick out exactly what I needed, what suited me perfectly, as if she knew me better than I knew myself.
“You’ve got the body for it, babe,” she would say, holding up a sleek cocktail dress or an airy sundress. “Trust me.”
And trust her I did. Kandy’s support and encouragement made it easier to embrace this new identity fully, to let go of the lingering doubts that whispered in the back of my mind. With every new outfit, every new hairstyle she suggested, I felt more like Karissa—more like the woman I was always meant to be.
Chapter 40: Salon Days
As time went on, I found myself spending more time in the salon, not just as a client but as someone truly passionate about the work. It started small—Kandy would ask me to help with some of the simpler tasks, like washing clients’ hair or organizing products. But soon enough, she began to trust me with more responsibilities.
“You’ve got a real talent for this, you know?” she said one afternoon as I helped style a regular client’s hair. “Especially with curls. You just have a way of making them look effortless.”
I had to admit, there was something deeply satisfying about working with curls—the way they sprang to life under my hands, the way a few careful adjustments could transform a look completely. It was more than just hair. It was art.
Kandy’s belief in me was contagious, and soon I found myself taking on more clients, specializing in curly styles. Word got around quickly, and before I knew it, I had a growing list of women coming to the salon just to have me work on their hair.
It was a revelation. I had never thought of myself as a stylist, but in the salon, I felt like I had finally found something I was not only good at, but something I loved.
One day, as I finished up a particularly intricate curl style on a client, she looked at me in the mirror and smiled. “You have a gift,” she said. “Thank you.”
It was moments like that, where the joy on my clients’ faces reflected back at me, that made me realize just how much I had changed. Kai had never found this kind of fulfillment, but Karissa… Karissa was thriving.
Chapter 41: Cade’s Presence Grows
Of course, Cade was never far from my thoughts. Since the gala, our relationship had deepened in a way I hadn’t anticipated. There was an unspoken understanding between us—a kind of quiet, steady affection that grew stronger with every shared glance, every whispered conversation. He made me feel seen, truly seen, in a way that no one else ever had.
He was always there, whether it was picking me up from the salon after a long day or joining me for late-night conversations in the guesthouse over a glass of wine. He never pushed, never demanded more than I was willing to give. Instead, he simply… cared.
One evening, as we sat together on the patio of the guesthouse, the stars twinkling above us, he reached for my hand.
“You’ve come so far,” he said, his voice soft but full of meaning. “I’m proud of you.”
I looked at him, my heart swelling. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them, the way he looked at me, as if I was the only person in the world that mattered in that moment.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my fingers tightening around his. “That means more than you know.”
He smiled, his thumb brushing gently over the back of my hand. And in that moment, with the cool night air around us and the warmth of his touch grounding me, I realized just how much I had grown to care for him.
Chapter 42: Torn Between
But as perfect as things seemed, there was still a part of me that couldn’t fully let go of my past. Every now and then, I would catch myself thinking about Kai—about the life I had lived before. It wasn’t that I missed it, exactly. I didn’t want to go back. But there was a sense of unfinished business, a feeling that I hadn’t yet fully reconciled the two parts of myself.
It came to a head one afternoon when I received another message from Chris. I’d love to see you again, Karissa. There’s so much we didn’t get a chance to talk about.
I stared at the message for what felt like hours, my heart heavy. Could I really reconnect with someone from my past? Someone who had known me as Kai? What would that even look like?
Kandy noticed my mood as we worked side by side at the salon. “Something’s bothering you,” she said, her tone gentle but probing.
I sighed, setting down the curling iron I had been using. “It’s just… my past. It’s catching up with me.”
Kandy gave me a knowing look, nodding slowly. “I figured that might happen sooner or later. You can’t run from it forever, you know.”
“I’m not trying to run,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “I just… I don’t know how to reconcile it. Kai and Karissa. They feel like two different people.”
She placed a hand on my arm, her eyes soft with understanding. “You don’t have to choose, babe. Kai is a part of your story, just like Karissa is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t move forward.”
Her words hit me hard, the truth of them settling deep in my chest. She was right, of course. I didn’t have to erase Kai to embrace Karissa. I just had to find a way to bring both parts of myself together.
Chapter 43: The Unexpected Offer
That evening, as I sat on the couch in the guesthouse, Cade’s arm wrapped around me, I received an unexpected call. It was Mrs. H. She never called without a reason, so my curiosity piqued as I answered.
“Karissa, darling,” she began, her tone warm but serious. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve been such a wonderful addition to our little world here, and I’ve come across an opportunity that I think would be perfect for you.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What kind of opportunity?”
“There’s a high-society event coming up—something even bigger than the gala. It’s an exclusive charity fundraiser, and I need someone I trust to represent me. It’s a chance to make connections, to really immerse yourself in this new life. I think it could open doors for you.”
I was stunned. Represent Mrs. H? At an event like that?
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I stammered.
“Say yes,” she said with a laugh. “You’ll do beautifully. And don’t worry, Cade will be there with you.”
The thought of attending such an event—of representing someone as powerful as Mrs. H—was overwhelming, but it was also thrilling. This was it. Another step deeper into this new life, another opportunity to truly embrace who I was becoming.
“I’ll do it,” I said, the excitement bubbling up inside me.
“Good,” she replied, her voice full of approval. “I knew I could count on you.”
As the call ended, I looked over at Cade, who had been listening quietly.
“You’re going to be amazing,” he said, leaning in to kiss me gently.
And in that moment, I knew he was right. For the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Chapter 44: The Weight I Carry
As the days stretched on, I settled more comfortably into the rhythm of my life at the guesthouse. Kandy had become not just my mentor, but my confidante. The growing anticipation for the upcoming charity event, where I would represent Mrs. H, had my mind swirling with thoughts—excitement, anxiety, and more than a little disbelief that this was really my life now. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the specter of my past, of Kai, loomed ever closer.
That afternoon, the sun was high, filtering through the windows of the guesthouse, casting golden light across the polished floors. I was lounging in a soft, cream-colored dress Kandy had picked out for me—something casual but elegant. She always knew how to make me feel feminine, comfortable, yet somehow elevated. I ran my fingers absently through my curls, a habit I’d picked up since my perm. The curls had become a new signature of mine, and I had to admit, I loved the way they framed my face.
I scrolled through my phone, and as if on cue, there was another message from Chris.
Karissa, I really would love to catch up. There’s so much I’d love to understand. Can we meet for coffee? Just as friends?
My heart skipped a beat. Chris knew. He knew about Kai. He was one of the very few who had known me before this transformation, and the thought of sitting down face-to-face with him stirred a wave of anxiety. What if seeing him pulled me back into my old self? What if he couldn’t see Karissa at all?
I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I had tried so hard to separate these two worlds, to keep Kai’s life in the past, but Chris… well, he had been a friend. A real friend. Maybe meeting him wouldn’t be the disaster I feared. Maybe it would be the closure I needed.
Before I could change my mind, I typed out a response.
Okay. Let’s meet tomorrow. There’s a café near the park on 8th. 11 a.m.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself. Immediately, a knot of apprehension formed in my stomach, but there was also a sense of relief. One way or another, I had to face this part of myself.
Chapter 45: Meeting Chris
The morning arrived far too quickly. Kandy had come by early to check in before heading to the salon.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter as I poured myself a cup of coffee.
I hesitated, then sighed. “I’m meeting someone. Someone from… before.”
Her expression shifted, understanding dawning in her eyes. “From before?”
I nodded. “His name’s Chris. He knew me as Kai. He wants to talk, catch up.”
Kandy took a slow breath, her gaze softening. “That’s a lot, babe. You sure you’re ready for it?”
I bit my lip, looking down at the coffee swirling in my cup. “I think so. I mean, I have to be. I can’t just pretend Kai never existed.”
She crossed the room, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to be anything you’re not ready to be. Just remember, you’re Karissa now. That’s who you are, who you’ve become. If he’s a true friend, he’ll see that.”
I gave her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Kandy. I needed that.”
With her words of reassurance, I steeled myself for the day ahead.
The café was quiet when I arrived, with just a few patrons scattered at tables and the faint hum of conversation in the air. I spotted Chris right away, sitting near the back by a window. My heart raced as I approached him, my heels clicking softly on the polished floor.
“Karissa?” His voice was tentative, eyes wide as he took me in.
I smiled, feeling the nervous energy bouncing between us. “Hey, Chris.”
He stood to hug me, and for a moment, I was hyper-aware of the differences between us now. He had known me as Kai, and now here I was, standing before him as Karissa. But when he wrapped his arms around me, the awkwardness melted away, at least a little.
We sat down, and for a few moments, neither of us knew quite what to say. Finally, Chris broke the silence.
“You look… amazing,” he said, his tone sincere.
I blushed, tucking a curl behind my ear. “Thanks. It’s been… a journey.”
“I can imagine.” He paused, his eyes searching my face as if trying to reconcile the person he once knew with the woman sitting in front of him. “So… how does it feel? Being Karissa?”
I took a deep breath, considering his question carefully. “It feels… right. Like I’m finally who I’m supposed to be. It’s not always easy, and there are still moments where I feel a little lost, but… this is me now.”
He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I can see that. You seem… happy. Really happy.”
“I am,” I admitted, a sense of peace settling over me as I said it aloud. “I really am.” Chris stared at Karissa, struggling to reconcile the face in front of him with his memories. The Karissa standing before him exuded confidence, yet something deeper shimmered beneath the surface — an unshakable intuition that had guided her to this moment.
Chris’s curiosity peaked. “You’ve really transformed, huh?”
Karissa gave a quiet smile, her gaze distant. “It wasn’t planned. It just… happened. I followed these little signs — things that seemed like coincidences, but they weren’t. It’s like I was following some kind of path. But I wasn’t the one creating it; it was already there. It was like this higher force just… nudged me along.”
Chris squinted, his head tilting slightly. “What do you mean, like signs?”
“Dreams. Feelings. Even little things people said. Things that didn’t make sense at first but came together later, like a puzzle already half-built.” Karissa paused. “One moment, I was Kai, doing what I thought I was supposed to, and then everything shifted. Chris, it wasn’t me alone. It was like fate was in play.”
Chris shook his head in disbelief. “You just knew?”
Karissa smiled, now with warmth in her voice. “No. I didn’t. But I listened when it mattered.”
For the next hour, we talked—about life, about the journey I’d been on, about what it meant to be Karissa. And to my surprise, Chris didn’t shy away from any of it. He was curious, but never invasive, and by the end of our conversation, I realized that my fears had been unfounded.
“I’m glad we met,” I told him as we stood to leave.
“Me too,” he said with a smile. “You’re still you, Karissa. And that’s what matters.”
As I watched him walk away, a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying seemed to lift. Kai would always be a part of me, but Chris had shown me that the people who mattered would see Karissa too.
Chapter 46: Preparing for the Charity Event
When I returned to the guesthouse that afternoon, I found a beautifully wrapped box waiting for me on the bed. There was no note, but I knew instantly who it was from. Mrs. H had impeccable taste and loved to surprise me with things like this.
I carefully unwrapped the box, revealing an exquisite, floor-length gown in the deepest shade of emerald green. The fabric shimmered in the light, and I could already imagine how it would hug my curves perfectly.
“Oh wow…” I whispered to myself, running my fingers over the soft material.
There was no doubt—this was meant for the upcoming charity event. Mrs. H clearly had every intention of making sure I looked and felt my best while representing her.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Cade.
Excited for the big event? Can’t wait to see you in that dress.
I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. Cade had been a constant presence in my life since the gala, his quiet support and unwavering affection something I was beginning to lean on more and more.
I hope you’ll be by my side, I typed back, knowing full well that he would be. He always was.
Chapter 48: Deepening Ties with Cade
That evening, Cade arrived at the guesthouse, as he often did, to spend time with me. We sat together on the patio, the sun setting over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange.
“How was your day?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.
I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “Good. I met with an old friend… someone who knew me before.”
He tensed slightly, then relaxed, his arm wrapping around me protectively. “How did that go?”
“Better than I expected,” I admitted. “It felt… freeing, in a way. Like I’m finally coming to terms with both parts of myself.”
He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering. “I’m proud of you, Karissa.”
There was something in his voice, something deeper, that made my heart flutter. I tilted my head up to look at him, our eyes locking in the fading light.
“Cade…” I began, but he silenced me with a kiss—soft, gentle, but filled with an undeniable intensity.
When he pulled away, his hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
I blushed, my heart racing. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You won’t have to find out,” he whispered, his words a promise.
Chapter 49: Charity in the Spotlight
The evening of the charity event arrived faster than I could have anticipated. Every moment of preparation felt like the world was slowing down, and yet, when I looked up at the clock, the hours seemed to disappear like wisps of smoke. Tonight, I wasn’t just Karissa; I was Mrs. H’s guest of honor—her protégé—and I would be stepping into a world where everything from how I walked to what I wore would be scrutinized.
Kandy arrived an hour before I was set to leave, breezing through the door with her signature confidence, carrying two large garment bags over her arm and a makeup case the size of a suitcase.
“We’re going full glam tonight, babe,” she announced, dropping her things onto my bed with a flourish. She winked at me. “Mrs. H said to go all out.”
I laughed nervously, glancing at the shimmering emerald gown that hung on my closet door. “I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that I’m going to this thing.”
“Oh, don’t even start with the nerves now,” Kandy scolded, unzipping the first garment bag. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead, babe. Trust me.”
For the next hour, Kandy worked her magic. She styled my curls, bringing out their natural bounce and shine, before sweeping my hair into an elegant updo that allowed a few tendrils to frame my face. The look was refined but still distinctly me—a subtle nod to the transformative perm that had come to define this new chapter of my life.
Then came the makeup. Kandy had an instinctive understanding of my features, knowing exactly how to make me look radiant without overdoing it. She applied a bold lip—deep red, rich and sultry—along with smoky eye makeup that made my eyes pop. When she was done, I stared at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back.
“There she is,” Kandy said, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s Karissa.”
I blinked, momentarily overwhelmed. She was right. This was me. And yet, I felt a pang in my chest, a reminder that Kai still lingered somewhere deep down, watching this transformation unfold. But tonight wasn’t about Kai. Tonight was about Karissa stepping into the world that had opened its doors to her.
Chapter 50: Into the Light
The charity event was being held at a grand estate just outside the city—a sprawling mansion with perfectly manicured gardens and white marble columns that made the whole place feel like something out of a movie. As my car pulled up to the entrance, I saw couples in their finest evening wear, laughing and mingling, their laughter echoing across the courtyard.
I swallowed hard, the weight of the night pressing down on me. It wasn’t just about representing Mrs. H—it was about being seen, truly seen. I was no longer hiding in the shadows or walking the tightrope between Kai and Karissa. I was stepping fully into this new life.
Cade was waiting for me at the entrance, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. He looked impossibly handsome in his tuxedo, his posture relaxed and confident. As I stepped out of the car, he walked over and extended his hand.
“You’re stunning,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping over me with undisguised admiration.
I blushed, taking his hand. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
He laughed, and for a moment, all the nerves I’d been carrying seemed to dissolve. With Cade by my side, I felt invincible.
As we entered the mansion, the opulence of the event hit me in waves—crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the sea of gowns and tuxedos. Waiters carried trays of champagne, and the room buzzed with the sound of polite conversation and gentle laughter. Mrs. H stood near the center of the room, surrounded by a small crowd, her presence commanding but gracious.
“Let’s go say hello,” Cade whispered, guiding me toward her.
Mrs. H spotted us almost immediately, and her face lit up with approval as we approached.
“Karissa, darling,” she said, pulling me into a light embrace. “You look absolutely radiant. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions running through me. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Mrs. H turned to the group surrounding her, gesturing toward me. “Everyone, this is Karissa. She’s been working with me for the past few months, and I dare say she’s become quite an asset.”
I felt eyes on me—curious, assessing—but not unkind. A few people nodded, offering polite smiles, while others seemed more interested in their conversations. It was overwhelming, but not as terrifying as I had feared. These people weren’t looking for flaws; they were simply observing, curious about the new face in their circle.
Cade stayed close to me, his presence a steadying force. As the evening progressed, we moved through the crowd, engaging in small talk, sharing light laughter with guests, and sipping champagne. Every now and then, I’d catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or the reflection of a polished surface, and each time, it was like a jolt of realization—this is me. This is my life now.
Chapter 51: A Pause for Reflection
At one point in the evening, Cade and I slipped outside onto a quiet balcony overlooking the garden. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the warmth and noise inside, and for a moment, we stood in silence, taking in the beauty of the night.
“How are you holding up?” Cade asked, his voice soft.
I smiled, leaning against the railing. “Better than I thought I would be. I was so nervous at first, but… it’s been good. Really good.”
“You’re doing amazing,” he said, turning to face me. “I knew you would.”
I glanced up at him, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. There was something in his eyes, something that made my heart skip a beat. The connection between us had grown deeper over the past few weeks, and tonight, standing here with him, it felt undeniable.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine. “You didn’t need me, Karissa. You were always strong enough to do this on your own.”
I looked up at him, feeling the pull between us. For a moment, everything else faded away—the event, the people inside, even the lingering traces of Kai. All that mattered was this moment, standing here with Cade, feeling like the truest version of myself.
Without another word, he leaned down and kissed me, slow and tender, his hand resting gently on my cheek. I melted into the kiss, the world around us disappearing as I lost myself in him.
When we finally pulled away, I was breathless, my heart racing.
“Cade…” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over my lips. “Let’s take this one step at a time. No pressure. No rush. Just… us.”
I nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could just be—no expectations, no need to prove anything. Just Karissa.
Chapter 52: Out with the Girls
The city buzzed under the night sky, the streets alive with laughter and the sound of music wafting from nearby bars. I found myself surrounded by the girls from the salon, each one more glamorous and vivacious than the last. Tonight was a celebration—a night out to honor my newfound identity and to give me a taste of the world I was stepping into.
Kandy led the way to a hidden gem of a lounge, its entrance tucked into a sleek alley adorned with twinkling fairy lights. Inside, it was all polished chrome and plush velvet, the low hum of music vibrating through the air. I felt the shift as we moved from the cool night into the warm embrace of the venue, excitement tinged with anxiety fluttering in my stomach.
As the group settled into their reserved table, I couldn’t help but notice the attention we garnered. I wore a striking black off-the-shoulder dress that Kandy had carefully selected for me, and the way people looked at me made my heart race—both with thrill and an unsettling sense of vulnerability.
The drinks flowed freely as the girls laughed and shared stories from the salon. I was swept up in the atmosphere, feeling lighter than I had in ages. But as the night progressed, my confidence began to waver. The way men approached our table—one in particular, tall and sharply dressed—sent a wave of apprehension through me. His attention felt both flattering and suffocating, reminding me of how new this all was.
Kandy noticed my discomfort. “Hey, let’s grab another round at the bar,” she suggested, leading me away from the table, leaving the suitor behind.
Once at the bar, Kandy turned to me with concern. “You good? You seem a little out of sorts.”
I sighed, leaning against the cool counter. “It’s just… everything feels so intense. The looks, the attention… And then there’s you and Mrs. H. Why are you both helping me? What’s the catch?”
Kandy’s expression softened, her eyes searching mine. “There’s no catch, Karissa. I see something incredible in you, something waiting to be unleashed. You’re transforming, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness. I want to help you embrace that.”
I felt a mix of relief and uncertainty wash over me. “But what if I can’t do this? What if I’m not enough? I keep thinking about HRT and surgeries… It’s all so real, and it terrifies me. What if it’s a mistake?”
Kandy nodded, taking a deep breath. “Those are valid fears. This journey isn’t just about looking different; it’s about living authentically. You have to ask yourself if this is who you truly want to be. It’s a big commitment, and yes, it’s permanent. But the life ahead of you could be everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“I know,” I murmured, feeling the weight of my uncertainty. “But what if I dive in and find it’s not what I expected? I’m scared of what I might lose—the old me, my past, my relationships.”
Kandy stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s natural to be scared. But think about what you’re gaining—the freedom to be yourself, to live your truth. And as for Mrs. H, she sees your potential, too. She believes in you, and she wants to help you navigate this.”
I looked into Kandy’s eyes, sensing the sincerity in her words. “But what if it’s just a dream? It feels so perfect, like I’m walking through a fantasy, and I’m terrified of waking up.”
Kandy smiled softly, her thumb brushing my arm. “You can make this dream a reality. It won’t always be easy, but it’s worth it. You’ll have your ups and downs, and it’s okay to feel vulnerable. Just know that you’re not alone. I’m here for you, and so is Mrs. H.”
As the conversation continued, we both became more aware of the men lingering nearby, but the atmosphere felt lighter now. With each sip of our drinks, I felt a little more emboldened, the alcohol easing my nerves. Yet, deeper thoughts began to swirl in my mind—thoughts about what life would look like post-transition, and how I might feel when I took those final steps toward my true self.
Returning to the table, I felt a warmth in my chest. “Thank you for being here, Kandy. It means more than I can express.”
Kandy winked, her smile radiant. “Always. You’re stepping into something extraordinary, and I can’t wait to see where it leads you.”
They joined the laughter at the table, but the night shifted for me. The thrill of the evening was intertwined with a weighty realization: my transformation was not just a playful fantasy; it was a journey of profound significance. I would have to confront my fears and make choices that would shape my life irrevocably.
As we danced and laughed, I caught glimpses of my future—filled with possibilities and challenges, with Kandy by my side and the support of Mrs. H. With every passing moment, I felt a little more ready to embrace the reality of who I was becoming.
Chapter 53: Reflections and Resolve at Mrs. H’s
As I stepped into Mrs. H’s grand foyer, the scent of fresh flowers mingled with a hint of luxury that permeated the air. The chandeliers cast a warm glow, illuminating the carefully curated artwork that adorned the walls. Tonight felt different; the excitement from our night out lingered, but now it was tangled with the weight of decisions looming on the horizon.
Kandy had excused herself, promising to return soon with a surprise. Alone, I moved through the elegantly decorated home, my fingers brushing against the smooth surfaces of furniture and the coolness of framed photographs. This house felt like a sanctuary, yet it also represented a world that was rapidly becoming unfamiliar.
In the living room, Mrs. H sat comfortably in an oversized chair, her gaze focused on the flickering flames of the fireplace. She looked up as I entered, her expression warm but serious.
“Come, sit with me, dear,” Mrs. H beckoned, patting the cushion beside her.
I obliged, taking a seat and folding my hands in my lap, suddenly aware of the fabric of my dress against my skin. “Thank you for tonight, Mrs. H. I had an amazing time, but… I need to talk about the offer you mentioned earlier.”
Mrs. H studied me closely, the flickering light casting shadows on her features. “Of course. I sensed some hesitation, but I wanted to give you time to process everything.”
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. “It’s just… the idea of staying here, continuing this transformation… it’s overwhelming. On one hand, it feels like a dream come true, but on the other, it’s so permanent. I’m scared of what I might be giving up.”
Mrs. H leaned forward, her expression softening. “I understand your fears, Karissa. This isn’t just about the physical transformation; it’s about stepping into a new life, one that aligns with your true self. I can imagine how daunting that is.”
I looked away, my thoughts swirling. “But what if I’m making a mistake? What if I dive in and find out this isn’t really who I am? What if I lose everything I’ve known?”
Mrs. H leaned forward, her expression softening. “I understand your fears, Karissa. This isn’t just about the physical transformation; it’s about stepping into a new life, one that aligns with your true self. I can imagine how daunting that is.”
I looked away, my thoughts swirling. “But what if I’m making a mistake? What if I dive in and find out this isn’t really who I am? What if I lose everything I’ve known?”
Mrs. H reached out, her hand resting on mine. “You’re right to consider these things deeply. It’s a journey filled with choices that can be both empowering and intimidating. But you won’t be alone; Kandy and I will be here every step of the way to support you.”
I felt the weight of Mrs. H’s offer—a blend of opportunity and obligation. “What if I don’t want this kind of life? What if I just want to explore my identity without the pressures of high society?”
Mrs. H nodded, her eyes glistening with understanding. “That’s entirely valid. But remember, this is your journey. You get to decide what it looks like. You can take it step by step, at your own pace. You don’t have to rush into anything. The offer to stay here and explore your identity with us is simply a foundation for you to build upon.”
My heart raced. “It’s just… I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. What if I jump and can’t find my way back?”
“Sometimes, we have to take that leap to discover the freedom that awaits us,” Mrs. H said softly. “And sometimes, those leaps lead to the most beautiful transformations.”
Tears threatened to spill over, a mixture of fear and longing welling within me. “But it’s so hard. What if I can’t handle it? What if I’m not strong enough?”
“Strength isn’t about having it all figured out; it’s about being true to yourself, even in moments of vulnerability,” Mrs. H reassured me. “You’ve already shown immense courage by embracing this change. Remember, you have people who believe in you and want to see you flourish.”
As the warmth of Mrs. H’s hand enveloped mine, I felt a flicker of hope amidst my uncertainty. “What if I say yes? What does that mean for me?”
“It means you’re choosing to explore the full spectrum of who you are,” Mrs. H explained. “It means you’re opening the door to possibilities, to new experiences, and to a community that can uplift you. You’re not alone in this.”
Just then, Kandy returned, her arms filled with shopping bags. “Guess what I brought! A few essentials to make your transition more fun!”
The excitement in Kandy’s voice broke the tension, and I smiled through my tears. Yet, the internal conflict remained—torn between the allure of a new life and the fear of the unknown.
As Kandy began to unpack the bags, chattering animatedly about the contents, my heart felt heavy with the weight of my choices. I realized that this journey was more than a transformation; it was a reckoning with myself. And no matter how daunting, it was a path I felt compelled to explore.
Mrs. H and Kandy, two guiding lights in this new world, had extended their hands, ready to help me navigate the intricate dance of identity and transformation. I knew I had much to ponder in the coming days, but in that moment, surrounded by support, I felt a glimmer of courage beginning to unfurl within me.
Chapter 54: Embracing Change
The weeks since I first stepped into Mrs. H’s elegant world had flown by, and I’d made significant strides on my journey of transformation. I’d consulted with medical professionals about hormone replacement therapy (HRT), attended support groups, and even had my first session with a therapist specializing in gender identity. Each step felt monumental, a leap into a life I had only dreamed of until now.
Sitting in the cozy waiting room of Dr. Lang’s clinic, I nervously fidgeted with the hem of my blouse. The walls were adorned with inspiring quotes and serene artwork, but all I could focus on was my heart racing in anticipation. After weeks of research and consultations, today would be the day I would start HRT. I glanced at my reflection in the glossy magazine cover nearby, taking in the woman looking back at me—soft features, perfect makeup, and hair that cascaded in loose curls. It was a face I was still getting used to, yet somehow felt like home.
“Karissa?” A nurse’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I stood, smoothing my blouse as I followed the nurse down the hall.
As I settled into the exam room, Dr. Lang entered with a warm smile. “Good to see you again! Are you ready to discuss your treatment plan?”
I nodded, my stomach fluttering with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. “Yes, I am. I’ve thought a lot about this.”
We discussed the details of my treatment: the dosages, the expectations, and the emotional roller coaster that often accompanied the changes. Dr. Lang was thorough and compassionate, assuring me that feelings of doubt or fear were normal parts of the journey.
“Remember, this is a gradual process,” he said gently. “It may take some time to notice physical changes, but emotionally, you might feel a shift almost immediately. Just give yourself grace as you adapt.”
After the consultation, I left the clinic with my prescription in hand, a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation swirling inside me. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city as I made my way to the nearby café where Kandy had suggested we celebrate my decision.
When I entered the café, Kandy was already there, waving me over with a big grin. “There she is! My beautiful sister in transformation! How did it go?”
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I’m starting HRT. It’s official.”
Kandy squealed, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you! This is such a big step!”
We ordered drinks, and as we settled into our cozy corner, I shared my feelings about the appointment—the excitement, the fear, the sense of finally stepping into my true self. Kandy listened intently, her eyes sparkling with empathy.
“I can’t help but feel scared,” I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if I change in ways I can’t handle?”
“Change is hard, but it’s also beautiful,” Kandy reassured me. “You’re doing this for you, and that’s what matters most. Just remember that you’re not alone. I’m here for all of it—every high and every low.”
As the weeks turned into months, I found myself on an emotional roller coaster. The initial weeks of HRT brought with them a surge of emotions—some days I felt euphoric and free, while others left me grappling with doubt and sadness. I found comfort in therapy sessions, where I explored my feelings, reflecting on my past and my dreams for the future.
Physically, the changes began to manifest subtly at first—softening skin, changes in body shape, and the gentle roundness that began to emerge in my figure. I admired myself in the mirror more often, learning to love the reflection I saw, though there were moments of frustration when the transformation didn’t come as quickly as I had hoped.
Kandy was a constant source of support, encouraging me to embrace every stage of my journey. “You’re becoming the person you’ve always wanted to be,” she reminded me. “Every change is a step forward.”
One evening, as we were preparing for a social event—a charity gala where Mrs. H would introduce me to her elite circle—Kandy helped me select the perfect outfit. I stood in front of the mirror, wearing a beautiful teal dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, accentuating my figure. The excitement was palpable.
“Wow, you look stunning!” Kandy exclaimed, adjusting the neckline slightly. “You’re going to turn heads tonight!”
As we finished getting ready, Kandy turned to me, her expression serious. “I just want you to remember—tonight is not just about looking fabulous. It’s about embracing who you are and the journey you’ve been on. Don’t lose sight of that.”
I nodded, my heart racing. “I’ll try. It’s just… I feel like I’m still finding my footing.”
“And that’s okay,” Kandy replied softly. “It’s a process. Just be yourself. That’s all anyone wants to see.”
As we made our way to the gala, I felt a mix of nerves and excitement. I knew that each step I took was a step further into my new identity, a chance to embrace the woman I was becoming. I caught glimpses of myself in shop windows along the way, feeling more confident with each reflection.
Tonight would mark another milestone in my journey, a celebration of growth, support, and the blossoming of my true self. I felt ready, even if the road ahead remained uncertain.
The gentle hum of conversation filled the ballroom as I floated from one group to another, exchanging pleasantries with the elite members of Mrs. H’s social circle. I had been introduced to countless new faces that evening, but there was only one face my thoughts kept returning to—Cade.
It had been weeks since we last saw each other, and though I tried to push it to the back of my mind, I couldn’t deny the pull I felt toward him. He had been a part of this new chapter in my life, and though our interactions had always hovered on the edge of something more, I wondered where they might go from here. I missed his easy smile, his reassuring presence. And there was a part of me that missed the way his gaze lingered on me, as though he was seeing me for who I truly was, and not just what I was becoming.
Later that evening, I stepped out onto the terrace to get some air. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded ballroom. I leaned against the railing, gazing out at the city skyline, lost in thought.
The sound of footsteps behind me made me turn. Cade stood there, his eyes catching mine in the dim light. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick with unsaid words, charged with the tension of emotions neither had fully addressed.
“I had a feeling I’d find you out here,” Cade said, his voice low, as he came to stand beside me.
I smiled softly. “Needed a break from all the attention,” I admitted. “It’s overwhelming sometimes.”
Cade chuckled, leaning on the railing beside me. “I can imagine. You’ve been handling it well, though. I saw the way they were all drawn to you. You’re captivating, Karissa.”
His words made my heart skip a beat, and I glanced up at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. There was something different about the way he was looking at me tonight, something deeper, more intense.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “But it’s been… a lot to take in. Everything has been changing so fast.”
Cade paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, I can see that. You seem different since the last time we really talked.”
“I am,” I said, surprising even myself with how much truth was packed into those two simple words.
Cade’s eyes searched mine. “You seem… more you. I don’t know how to explain it. But it feels like I’m finally seeing the real you.”
Her breath caught in my throat. It was as though he had plucked the words right out of my soul. The real me. The person I was discovering day by day. The person I was becoming.
“Do you really think so?” I asked, my voice tentative, afraid of hearing the answer.
Cade nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah, I do. And I… I like what I see, Karissa.”
There was a pause, a moment suspended between us. The air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the kind that only existed when two people stood at the edge of something they couldn’t ignore any longer.
Cade ran a hand through his hair, his usual confident demeanor faltering. “I wasn’t always the guy who knew exactly what he wanted. I’ve been scared too, you know? Afraid of what it means to care so deeply about someone when the world is ready to tear it apart.”
I blinked, surprised by the admission. “I never thought you were scared of anything.”
“I’m human,” Cade replied softly. “I’ve had to fight for my place—my identity—just like you are. Being with you… it’s different, but I think that’s why I feel so drawn to it. You make me want to face those fears.”
Cade took a step closer, his fingers brushing against mine on the railing. It was a simple touch, but it sent shivers down my spine. My skin tingled where they made contact, and suddenly, everything else faded away—the party, the noise, the doubts. All that existed was him, standing so close, his presence grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Cade said quietly. “More than I probably should.”
My pulse quickened, and I swallowed, my mind racing. What was he trying to say? And what did I want him to say? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the space between us felt too wide, too filled with tension that begged to be released.
“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” I admitted, my voice soft.
Cade’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze dropping to my lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet mine. The intensity in his stare made my stomach flip, and suddenly, I was all too aware of how close he was, how much I wanted to close the gap between us.
“Karissa…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
I didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was me. All I knew was that suddenly, Cade’s lips were on mine, and everything inside me ignited. The kiss was slow, tender, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—something raw and passionate that we had both been holding back for too long.
Her hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as I pressed myself closer to him. Cade’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him as though he couldn’t bear to let go. The kiss deepened, I felt whole—like every piece of me had fallen into place.
When we finally pulled apart, both breathless, Cade rested his forehead against mine, his hands still holding me close.
“I don’t know what this means,” I whispered, my heart pounding. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For us.”
Cade’s thumb gently brushed my cheek. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I don’t care how long it takes. I just know that I want to be here for you. With you.”
The weight of his words settled over me, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. I had spent so much of my journey fearing that I would lose people along the way—that my transformation would push them away. But here Cade was, standing by my side, offering me the one thing I had always wanted: love, acceptance, and the promise of something real.
For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe that maybe—just maybe—I could have it all.
Chapter 55: A New Kind of Love
The warmth of Cade’s lips still lingered on my skin as we made our way back inside Mrs. H’s house. Our hands remained intertwined, the simple touch carrying the weight of all that had just passed between us. There had been no need for more words; our kiss had said everything.
The night air had chilled, and my body buzzed with a mixture of emotions—exhilaration, vulnerability, desire. This was new territory, and it felt like the ground beneath me was shifting in ways I hadn’t anticipated. But Cade was there, grounding me, holding me close, as if to remind me that we were in this together.
We slipped quietly into the guesthouse where I had been staying, the familiar space now feeling charged with the tension simmering between us. My heart beat faster as I stepped inside, Cade following close behind. His eyes never left mine as he closed the door softly behind us. The dim light cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity in his gaze. I felt my breath catch, my pulse quickening with the realization of what was unfolding.
He crossed the room in a few slow strides, and before I could say anything, his arms were around me again, pulling me into him. This kiss was different from the one on the terrace—deeper, more urgent. It was filled with the weight of all the emotions we had been holding back for so long, all the desire that had been building between us.
My hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. I felt like I was floating, caught between the dizzying rush of emotions and the undeniable pull of Cade’s presence. His hands were in my hair now, his touch gentle yet possessive, as though he was afraid to let me go.
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my lips slightly parted as I caught my breath. “Cade…” My voice was barely a whisper, heavy with emotion.
He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing my cheeks as he gazed into my eyes. “I don’t want to rush you,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity. “But I need you to know… I’m here. I want this. I want you, Karissa.”
My heart swelled at his words, but with it came a surge of vulnerability I hadn’t been prepared for. “I don’t know what this means,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
Cade’s gaze softened. He reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands. “I know,” he said. “And I don’t want to rush you. But I need you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. I want this. I want us.”
I felt a surge of emotions wash over me—excitement, fear, hope. I had been searching for this for so long, for someone who saw me for who I was and loved me unconditionally. And now, here it was, within reach. But I wasn’t sure if I could let myself fall.
A single tear slipped down my cheek, and Cade wiped it away with a tenderness that made my chest tighten. “It’s okay,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “We’ll take this however slow you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
But the truth was, I didn’t want to go slow. Not anymore. The depth of my feelings for Cade had been growing for weeks, and now, standing here with him, I realized just how much I wanted this—wanted him. “I want this too,” I finally admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
Cade smiled, a soft, tender smile that melted every last bit of doubt inside me. “I’m so glad,” he said. “I’m so happy.”
Without another word, Cade leaned in and kissed me again, this time slower, more deliberate. His hands moved to my waist, and I felt the heat of his touch as he guided me back toward the bed. There was no hesitation between us now, only the quiet understanding that something had shifted—something important.
We kissed again, this time with deeper passion, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt both instinctive and exhilarating. Cade was both patient and gentle, guiding me with a care that made me feel safe and seen. His presence was steady, grounding me while also awakening something new inside—a blend of excitement and vulnerability. He seemed to understand the subtle nuances of my hesitations, effortlessly dissolving them with his tenderness and quiet confidence.
There was no need for words, no questions hanging between us—just a natural understanding that unfolded as we became more attuned to one another. Our movements grew more fluid, as if we were discovering a language that had always existed between us, waiting to be spoken. Every touch, every shared glance, built on the sense of trust and connection that had been growing since the moment we first met.
With every moment, we grew closer—not just physically, but emotionally, our hearts intertwining with each caress. His attention to me was deliberate, patient, and unhurried, as though he wanted to make sure I felt cherished in every way. Where uncertainty had once lingered, I found confidence blossoming in the space between us, and in those moments, I understood what it meant to feel truly free in someone else’s embrace.
It wasn’t just the way our bodies moved together; it was the way we responded to one another. Each touch seemed to nourish a deeper part of me, filling spaces I hadn’t realized were empty. Every taste of his skin, every warm embrace, felt like a discovery—both of him and of myself. I wanted more—not out of need, but out of a joy that came from knowing we were giving to each other in ways that felt natural and true. It was a harmony, a meeting of two souls who had found their rhythm.
And as I saw the same joy reflected in Cade’s eyes, I realized that I had everything I needed in that moment, and perhaps had always had it. Together, we found not just pleasure, but something far deeper—a connection that transcended the physical and settled into something more lasting, more meaningful.
As the intensity of our passion began to subside, we lay together, panting and breathless. Cade held me close, his arms wrapped around me protectively.
As we sank down together, I felt a mix of emotions I hadn’t been prepared for: desire, yes, but also trust, tenderness, and a sense of belonging I hadn’t expected to find. This wasn’t just about physical intimacy—it was about sharing a part of myself with Cade that I had never shared with anyone before. It was about being seen, fully and completely, and knowing that he wanted me exactly as I was.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Cade smiled, brushing a lock of hair from my face. “It is happening. And I’m glad.”
We lay together in silence for a long time, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock in the distance. I was filled with a sense of contentment, a feeling of completeness that I had never experienced before. This was more than a physical connection—it was love. Real love. And that realization both thrilled and terrified me.
As the night wore on, I felt myself drifting into a peaceful sleep, my head resting on Cade’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a sense of security I hadn’t known I needed. This was what I had been searching for—someone who saw me, truly saw me, and loved me all the same.
But with that realization came the understanding that this was no longer just a game, no longer just a fleeting moment. This was real. And as much as that excited me, it also scared me. Because real love meant real vulnerability, and that was something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
Yet as Cade’s arms tightened around me, pulling me closer in his sleep, I knew that I couldn’t turn back now. This was my first love, my first real chance at happiness. And no matter how frightening it was, I was ready to embrace it.
Waking up in Cade’s arms the next morning felt like a dream. His steady heartbeat beneath my ear was both a comfort and a promise. As much as the uncertainty of real love scared me, I knew this was where I was meant to be. His warmth enveloped me, his presence grounding me in ways I hadn’t known I needed. Last night, I had given in to everything—the fear, the excitement, the vulnerability. But this morning, I was sure. This was no fleeting thing. This was real, and I was ready for it.
As the sunlight began to spill through the curtains, I turned to look at him, his features soft and relaxed in sleep. And in that quiet moment, I made a decision. The next day I had an appointment with my therapist, who I had found a vital source of grounding during this massive change in my life, and part of my journey with hormone replacement and all that comes with it. “Have you been taking time for yourself?” my therapist asked gently, her pen poised above the notepad.
I shrugged, staring out the window. “I’m doing what I need to do. The physical stuff—it’s all moving along. The hormones, the surgery…”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Her voice softened. “It’s one thing to change your body, Karissa. But you need to allow space for your mind to catch up. Are you processing all of these changes emotionally?”
I hated this question. The implication that I wasn’t ready for all of it. That somehow, by diving in, I was rushing something that could never be rushed. But the truth was—I wasn’t sure. My body had started to shift and soften in ways that I had longed for. But there were days I still didn’t feel me. Days when I woke up and felt like I was trying on someone else’s skin.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “Some days, I look in the mirror and I think, ‘There I am.’ Other days, I… I feel like I’m not doing enough.”
The therapist nodded. “That’s part of the journey, too. It’s not just about what’s visible to the world—it’s about what’s happening inside. The identity you’re growing into.”Chapter 56: The Ribbon Cutting Ceremony
The opening of The Phoenix Lounge was every bit as magical as I had imagined. Standing at the entrance, looking at the gathering crowd, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disbelief. It was all happening so fast, but somehow it felt like destiny—like every piece had fallen into place for a reason.
The space was beautiful, with its original vintage woodwork restored to its former glory, and the high ceilings framed by chandeliers that sparkled like stars overhead. Mrs. H had outdone herself in getting everything ready, pulling strings I hadn’t even known she had. She stood to my right, smiling warmly as she spoke with a few high-society women who had come to support the launch.
“Karissa, you look like you’re in your element,” Kandy said from beside me, snapping a quick picture on her phone. “This is your moment, babe.”
I smiled, but my heart was racing. This salon wasn’t just about me. It wasn’t just about giving women a place to get their hair done. It was about providing hope, helping women who needed to reclaim their sense of self after whatever battles they had faced. And that’s why Mrs. H’s charity was backing this new endeavor, providing resources for those who couldn’t afford these luxuries on their own.
Just before the ribbon-cutting, a reporter from the local newspaper stepped forward, microphone in hand.
“Karissa,” she began, her voice bright, “can you tell us a bit more about what makes The Phoenix Lounge unique? We know it’s not just another salon.”
I took a breath, glancing at Kandy before addressing the reporter.
“The Phoenix Lounge is a space for transformation,” I said, feeling the words come easily. “It’s about more than just outward beauty. We’ve partnered with Mrs. H’s charity to provide salon services to women in need—those dealing with identity struggles, financial hardships, or personal battles. For many of these women, this place will help them reclaim their confidence and strength. The salon’s name—‘Phoenix’—represents rising from the ashes, finding new life and hope.”
The reporter’s eyes lit up as she scribbled down my response. “And why do you think this focus on gender identity and personal reinvention is so important right now?”
I smiled softly. “Because everyone deserves to feel seen and valued for who they truly are. For many of us, the journey to that realization is long and difficult. I’ve been fortunate to have support, but not everyone does. This space is for them—for anyone who needs it.”
The reporter nodded, clearly moved. “That’s a powerful message, Karissa. Thank you.”
As she moved on to Mrs. H for a few words, I turned to Kandy, my heart still racing. “Do you think that sounded okay?”
“Girl, that was perfect,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile. “You were born for this.”
Chapter 57: The Moment We Share
Once the ceremony wrapped up and the ribbon was cut, Cade slipped through the crowd toward me. His smile was easy, proud, and it instantly settled my nerves.
“I heard your interview,” he said, pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss. “You were amazing.”
“Thanks,” I replied, my voice soft against his chest. “But honestly, I’ve been wanting to show you something.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”
Grabbing his hand, I led him through the back of the salon and up the narrow staircase to the top floor. I could feel his curiosity growing as we climbed the stairs, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway. When we finally reached the door to the apartment, I paused, turning to him with a smile.
“I’ve been meaning to show you this,” I said, opening the door.
The apartment was flooded with natural light, the large windows framing the city below. The hardwood floors gleamed, and the open-concept layout felt spacious yet cozy. It was everything I had imagined, and more.
“This…” I began, my voice catching for a moment. “This is home. My home. And I want it to be ours.”
Cade looked at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softened into something warm and full of love. He stepped into the apartment, taking in the space before turning back to me.
“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice low.
I nodded. “I want you to move in with me, Cade. I want us to be together, for real.”
For a moment, I held my breath, waiting for his response. Then, without hesitation, he crossed the room and wrapped me in his arms, lifting me off the ground as he kissed me.
“Yes,” he whispered against my lips. “Of course, yes.”
I laughed, feeling the weight of my fears and doubts slip away. This was it—our future. And I was ready for it.
Chapter 58: The Salon Family Grows
As the weeks passed, life at The Phoenix Lounge settled into a comfortable rhythm. Kandy and I had officially become partners, running the salon together and ensuring that it lived up to its mission of being a sanctuary for women in need. Mrs. H, true to her word, continued to support us through her charity work, even hosting a series of fundraising events to ensure that we could offer our services to those who needed them most.
Rosa, who had been with us from the beginning, was promoted to manager. It was a role she took to with pride and grace, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled to see her thrive. She had come a long way from the shy girl who had washed my hair that first day at the salon. Now, she was a leader, helping other women find their confidence just as she had found hers.
Kandy moved into one of the apartments upstairs with Rosa, the two of them becoming fast friends as they navigated this new chapter in their lives. And as for me, I moved into the top-floor apartment with Cade, our life together finally taking shape in the most unexpected, yet beautiful, way.
Chapter 59: Cruising New Waters
To celebrate our new beginning, Cade and I took a romantic cruise—a gift from Mrs. H, who insisted that we deserved a break after everything we had accomplished. The sea air was refreshing, and the time away gave us a chance to reconnect, to dream about the future.
One evening, as we stood on the balcony of our cabin, watching the sunset over the water, Cade took my hand.
“I’m proud of you,” he said, his voice steady and full of admiration. “Everything you’ve built, everything you’ve become… I’m in awe of you.”
I smiled, leaning into him as I looked out at the horizon. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you. You’ve been my rock, Cade.”
“And you’ve been mine,” he said softly.
We stood there in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the waves crashing against the ship below us. Then, turning to face him, I felt a swell of gratitude, love, and hope.
“To our future,” I whispered.
“To us,” he replied, pulling me into a kiss that felt like a promise—a promise of everything that was yet to come.
And as the ship sailed on into the night, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.
Chapter 60: The Phoenix Rises
Back at The Phoenix Lounge, things continued to thrive. The salon had become more than just a place to get your hair done—it was a sanctuary, a community, a place where anyone could walk in and find their true expression. It wasn’t just for women, but for anyone seeking transformation. Whether they wanted long, flowing curls, a bold pixie cut, a sleek fade, or even a sharp, classic barber’s cut, we were there to support them on their journey to becoming who they were meant to be.
People from all walks of life passed through our doors—those exploring new expressions of their gender, those looking for a simple haircut that matched their everyday identity, and those who, like me, were navigating a more complex transition. And for each one of them, we had trained, compassionate staff who could do more than cut hair—they were listeners, healers, and creators of possibility.
Rosa had become a mentor to many of the younger stylists, her story of resilience and transformation inspiring others to follow their dreams. Her chair was often filled with clients who sought not just her skills with the shears but also her gentle wisdom and understanding. She had a gift for making people feel seen, no matter who they were or how they identified.
Kandy, as always, brought her infectious energy to every aspect of the business. She made sure that every client felt like they belonged, that they were safe to express themselves and their dreams—whether that meant bold fashion-forward cuts or something softer and more traditional. She had even established a small barbering section in the back of the salon for those who preferred sharp lines and fades, a nod to the fluidity of expression that we so deeply embraced.
But The Phoenix Lounge was more than just a salon—it was a place of healing and rebirth. We had become known as the place people could come to not only transform their appearance but also to heal something deeper. The atmosphere was warm, welcoming, and affirming. We had clients who were transitioning, clients who were exploring, and clients who just wanted a haircut that made them feel like themselves. Each stylist was trained not just in technique but in understanding the nuances of gender expression and identity. My voice had always been something I’d taken for granted. Even when my body didn’t feel right, I’d always been able to speak with ease. But now, as I sat in the small, but comfortable private room at the salon with our new voice coach, I realized how much weight my voice carried. How much of me was tied to its sound.
“Relax your throat,” the coach instructed. “You’re holding tension.”
I tried to let go, to allow the words to flow naturally, but everything felt stilted and awkward. The pitch was almost there, but it didn’t sound like me yet. Not the version of me I was reaching for.
“Don’t rush it,” she said softly. “You’re still learning how to use your voice in a way that feels authentic. It’ll come. But give yourself permission to be in the in-between for a while.”
No one was pressured to fit into a box. They were encouraged to step into the version of themselves they saw in their dreams, whether that meant embracing femininity, masculinity, or something entirely fluid. We catered to them all, providing an experience where everyone could feel validated and empowered.
And as for me, I had found my place, my purpose. I was no longer running from my past or my identity. I was embracing it, and in doing so, I had found true happiness. I saw parts of myself in every client who walked through the doors of The Phoenix Lounge, whether they were discovering themselves for the first time or rediscovering what made them feel whole. It was an honor to be part of that process.
As I stood in the salon one evening, watching the clients laugh and share their stories, I felt a deep sense of contentment. People who had once been strangers were now family—bound not by blood, but by the common desire to be seen and loved for who they were. The air was filled with a sense of camaraderie, and each conversation felt like a small step toward healing, acceptance, and transformation.
The phoenix had risen from the ashes once more.
And so had I.
Chapter 61: Echoes from the Past
I was in my element, immersed in the vibrant energy of the Phoenix Lounge. The salon buzzed with laughter and chatter, a beautiful symphony of renewal and transformation. This was my world now, a world I’d helped build from the ground up. A world that embraced me.
I was at the front desk, chatting with Mrs. H about the upcoming fundraiser, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced down at the screen and saw the name: Jordan. My brother. I hadn’t spoken to him in months. The last time we had talked, everything was still on the precipice of change. He didn’t know about me; he didn’t know how much had shifted since the last time I had been “home.”
A pang of anxiety twisted in my gut. I hesitated, staring at the name flashing on my screen. Then I answered.
“Hey, Jordan,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, speaking almost at a whisper so hopefully nobody would hear my lowered tone.
“Hey,” he replied, his tone strained and heavy with unspoken words. “Kai, I—I need to talk to you about Dad.”
My heart sank. “What’s going on?”
“He’s not doing well. It’s serious, Kai.” The use of my old name stung, a reminder of the distance and disconnect that had grown between me and my family. “The doctors aren’t sure how much time he has left. You need to come home.”
The word “home” echoed in my mind, but it felt foreign, like a place I could no longer find on a map. My mind reeled with a thousand thoughts, a thousand fears. My world, my sanctuary here at the Phoenix Lounge, felt suddenly fragile.
“Jordan, I… I can’t just—” I stammered, trying to grasp at something, anything, to hold onto. “I’ve got so much going on here. It’s not that simple.”
“Kai, this isn’t about simple,” Jordan interrupted, his voice laced with urgency. “This is about Dad. He needs us—all of us. I know it’s been tough for you, but we need to be together as a family right now.”
Family. The word hung in the air, sharp and painful. How could I go back? How could I face them all as Karissa, when they hadn’t even known what was happening with my life? And yet, how could I not go? The guilt was a cold, heavy weight in my chest, pressing down on me until I felt like I could hardly breathe.
“I have to go,” I blurted out, but it wasn’t an agreement. It was a retreat. “I can’t— I just—” And then I hung up, the weight of what he’d said sinking in. I stood there, trembling, the salon buzzing around me as if nothing had happened, as if my world hadn’t just cracked open.
I barely registered Mrs. H’s concerned voice as I slid down into a chair, staring blankly at the floor.
“Karissa, darling, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head, unable to speak. The tears were threatening to spill over, but I held them back, drawing in deep, shaky breaths. “My dad… he’s really sick.”
Mrs. H’s face softened with understanding. She reached out, taking my hand in hers. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. What can we do?”
I shook my head again, feeling utterly lost. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can go back. It’s been so long, and things are so different now. I’m different.”
Mrs. H squeezed my hand gently. “You’re not going back, Karissa. You’re going forward. Whatever happens, you’re moving forward, and we’re all here with you.”
I nodded, but the fear still gripped me tightly. What would they say? What would my father think, seeing me like this? The thought of facing him, of facing any of them, as Karissa was terrifying.
The next few hours were a blur. I tried to focus on work, tried to drown out the noise in my head with the familiar routine of the salon, but it was no use. Every time my phone buzzed, I flinched, afraid to look. When I finally did, there were messages from my sister, my mother, even a voicemail from Jordan.
“Kai, please… just call me back. We need to talk.”
“Kai, it’s Mom. I know this is hard, but we really need you right now. Your father needs you.”
The words blurred together as I read them, each one hitting me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightened, the fear and anxiety threatening to overwhelm me. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but it was no use. The walls were closing in, and I felt like I was suffocating.
And then, like a lifeline, a text from Kandy appeared on my screen.
“Hey girl, you okay? Heard you had a tough call earlier. Need anything?”
I stared at the message, my fingers hovering over the keys. What could I even say? How could I explain this mess, this fear that had rooted itself deep inside me?
But before I could reply, there was a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kandy standing there, a look of concern on her face.
“Hey, I just— I wanted to check on you,” Kandy said softly, sitting down next to me. “What’s going on?”
And just like that, the dam broke. The words spilled out of me in a rush, everything I had been holding back. “My dad’s really sick. Jordan called. I’m supposed to go back to New York, but I don’t know if I can. They don’t even know about me—about Karissa.”
Kandy nodded, listening quietly. When I finally finished, my voice trembling and my hands shaking, Kandy reached over and pulled me into a hug.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay to be scared. But you don’t have to do this alone. We’re all here for you.”
I clung to her, the tears finally spilling over. I felt raw and exposed, like every nerve in my body was on fire. But Kandy’s embrace was solid and grounding, allowing me to further confide in my friend.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered.
“You can,” Kandy said firmly, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “And you will. Because you’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’re not running away from this. You’re facing it head-on, and that’s what makes you amazing.”
I sniffled, wiping at my eyes. “What if they don’t accept me?”
Kandy’s expression softened. “Then that’s on them. You’ve worked so hard to be who you are, to find your happiness. If they can’t see that, it’s their loss. But I think, deep down, your family just wants to see you happy. And you are happy, Karissa. Anyone who spends five minutes with you can see that.”
I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. Kandy was right. I was happy—happier than I had ever been. And maybe, just maybe, my family would see that too.
“But what if I can’t make it in time?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then you’ll know you did everything you could,” Kandy said gently. “And that’s all anyone can ask.”
We sat there in silence for a long moment, me drawing strength from Kandy’s presence. It wasn’t going to be easy. It was going to be one of the hardest things I’d ever done. But I knew, deep down, that I had to do it. Not just for my father, but for myself.
I glanced at my phone again, at the messages from my family. There were more now, each one pleading with me to come home. To be there.
To be part of the family again.
I took a deep breath, then picked up my phone and typed a quick message to Cade.
“I need to talk. Can we meet tonight?”
His reply came almost immediately. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
I took another deep breath, feeling the weight of what was to come settle over my shoulders. I wasn’t ready. I might never be ready. But I was going to face this, head-on, no matter what.
Because that’s what moving forward meant. And I was done looking back. Chapter 62: The Call (Part II)
The sun had set over the Phoenix Lounge, casting the dim interior in a soft, orange glow. I sat in the corner, my eyes fixed on my phone as if willing it to stay silent. Cade’s steady hand was on my knee, grounding me in the moment. Kandy and Mrs. H sat nearby, watching me with concern, their eyes filled with a quiet understanding.
When my phone buzzed again, I flinched. My brother—Jordan’s—name flashed on the screen. For a moment, I considered ignoring it, letting the call go to voicemail. But I knew I couldn’t avoid this forever.
I glanced at Cade, who gave me a reassuring nod, his eyes full of quiet support. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone and answered.
“Kai?” Jordan’s voice was sharp, urgent, and it took all my strength not to hang up immediately.
“Hey, Jord,” I replied, my voice strained, caught between the deeper tones of Kai and the softer, more natural pitch of Karissa.
“Where the hell have you been?” His words tumbled out in a rush. “I’ve been calling and texting for days. Dad’s sick, really sick, and you’re just—what, ignoring us?”
“I—I’m not ignoring you,” I said, wincing at how weak my voice sounded. I cleared my throat, trying to find the old register I hadn’t used in so long. “I’ve just been… busy.”
“Busy? What could be more important than this?” He sounded incredulous, hurt. “Dad’s asking for you, Kai. He’s asking where you are, why you’re not here.”
My heart clenched, a sharp pain shooting through my chest. I wanted to tell him everything—to explain why I couldn’t just drop everything and come home, why facing my father like this felt impossible. But I couldn’t find the words.
“I—” I hesitated, my voice faltering. “I’m just not sure it’s a good time for me to come.”
Jordan’s silence was heavy, oppressive. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, angry. “Not a good time? Are you serious right now? He’s dying, Kai. If you don’t come now, you might not get another chance.”
I felt the words like a punch to the gut. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I just—” My voice cracked, slipping into a higher, more hesitant tone. “I don’t know if I can.”
“What’s going on with you?” Jordan demanded. “Why are you talking like that? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said quickly, forcing myself to lower my voice. “I just— I’m dealing with some stuff, okay?”
“Dealing with stuff?” he echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. “What could be more important than Dad? I mean, come on, Kai, you’ve gotta get your shit together. He needs you. We all do.”
His words were laced with frustration, confusion, and something else—fear. I knew that fear all too well. It was the fear of losing someone you loved, of watching them slip away and being powerless to stop it. And I hated myself for adding to that fear, for making things harder when they were already unbearable.
“I’m scared, Jordan,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice was barely audible, a soft, trembling thing that didn’t belong to Kai.
“Scared?” Jordan repeated, and I could almost see his face, the furrowed brow, the confusion in his eyes. “Of what?”
“Of everything,” I said, my voice breaking. “Of how Dad will react, of what he’ll think. I’m not—I’m not the same person I used to be.”
There was a long silence on the other end, and I could hear Jordan breathing, hear the faint sounds of a TV in the background. “Look,” he said finally, his voice gentler now, as if he was trying to understand. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I won’t pretend I do. But whatever it is, you can’t let it stop you from coming. We need you, Kai. Dad needs you.”
I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. I wanted to scream, to tell him that I wasn’t Kai anymore, that I hadn’t been for a long time. But I couldn’t. Not yet. So I just nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I—I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it?” Jordan’s voice rose again, frustration bubbling over. “There’s no time to think, Kai. You need to be here. Just—just get on a plane and come home, okay?”
Home. The word felt foreign, like something from a past life. Could I really go back? Could I walk into that house, face my father, and pretend to be the person they all remembered?
“I can’t promise anything,” I said finally, my voice a fragile whisper.
“Just come,” Jordan said, his voice breaking. “Please. Just come.”
Before I could say anything else, he hung up, leaving me staring at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest.
Cade squeezed my knee gently, his eyes searching mine. “What did he say?”
I shook my head, blinking back tears. “He wants me to come. He said there’s no time to think, just to come.”
“And what do you want to do?” Cade asked softly, his gaze steady, grounding me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Kandy leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to decide right now, Karissa. But whatever you choose, we’re here for you. You’re not alone in this.”
Mrs. H nodded, her eyes warm with understanding. “It’s a big step, sweetheart, and it’s okay to be scared. But sometimes, facing that fear is the only way forward.”
I looked at the three of them, my heart full of gratitude and love. They were my family now, in a way I hadn’t known was possible. But I also knew that the family I had left behind deserved a chance to know me, to see the person I had become.
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. “I think—I think I need to go.”
They all nodded, their expressions supportive, but I could see the worry in their eyes. They knew, just as I did, how hard this was going to be.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” I said again, my voice trembling.
“You can,” Cade said firmly, his hand warm and steady on my knee. “And we’ll be with you every step of the way.”
I nodded, taking another deep, shaky breath. “Okay. I’ll go. But I need to do it on my terms.”
“Of course,” Kandy said gently. “Whatever you need.”
“I’m not ready to face them yet,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think—I think I need to meet Jordan first, at the hotel. I can’t just walk into the house and pretend everything’s normal.”
“That makes sense,” Mrs. H said, nodding. “Take it one step at a time, dear. You don’t have to do everything all at once.”
I nodded, my heart pounding. “Okay. I’ll book a flight for tomorrow.”
Cade pulled me into his arms, holding me close. “You’re so brave, Karissa. You’ve got this.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me, trying to believe them. It was a small step, just one in a long journey, but it felt monumental. I was going back—no, forward. I was moving forward, to face the past and find a way through it.
It was terrifying. But I wasn’t alone. And that made all the difference.
Chapter 63: Facing Forward, Eyes Open
I stood in front of my open closet, a small suitcase on the bed beside me, feeling utterly paralyzed. The clothes hanging in front of me seemed foreign, each piece representing a fragment of my identity that I was still learning to fully embrace. There were bright floral prints, bold colors, and fabrics that flowed softly, contrasting sharply with the starker, more utilitarian pieces that were crammed into the far end of the closet—the remnants of a life I was determined to leave behind.
Kandy’s soft footsteps approached from the hallway. “Hey,” she said gently, leaning against the doorframe. “How’s it going?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Kandy moved beside me, her eyes scanning the clothes with the practiced eye of someone who understood the power of appearance. “Let’s start with something that makes you feel strong and beautiful,” she suggested. “Something that reminds you who you are now, not who you used to be.”
I nodded, though my hands remained frozen at my sides. “I just—what if they don’t see it? What if they can’t see me?”
Kandy’s expression softened, and she reached out, taking my hands in hers. “That’s not on you, honey. You can’t control what they see. All you can do is show up as yourself, as the incredible woman you’ve become, and let the rest go.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “It’s just… terrifying. I’ve spent so long building this life, this person I am now. What if going back there, being in that house, around those people… what if I lose her?”
Kandy shook her head firmly. “You won’t. Because you’re not the same person you were when you left, and that’s a good thing. You’re stronger now. Braver. And you’ve got people who love you exactly as you are.” She smiled gently. “And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”
I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, and I pulled Kandy into a tight hug. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Kandy hugged me back just as fiercely. “You’d be amazing, just like you always are.”
After a few moments, we pulled apart, and Kandy turned back to the closet. “Now, let’s pick out some outfits that scream ‘I’m here, and I’m fabulous.’”
We began sorting through the clothes, Kandy pulling out a few pieces and holding them up to me. A soft, emerald-green dress that hugged my curves but flowed gently at the hem, perfect for a dinner or an evening out. A structured black blazer with a hint of shimmer that made me feel both powerful and put together. Casual jeans and a T-shirt that said “I’m comfortable in my own skin.” Each piece felt like an affirmation, a reminder of who I was and who I wanted to be.
“Definitely bringing these,” Kandy said decisively, adding a pair of bold, statement earrings to the pile. “You’ll look amazing.”
I smiled, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. “Thanks.”
We continued packing, Kandy occasionally throwing in a playful comment that made me laugh, the tension easing with each shared smile and reassuring word. Finally, the suitcase was packed, filled with clothes that reflected my true self, the person I was proud to be.
When we were done, I sank onto the bed, staring at the suitcase as if it were a ticking time bomb. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You are,” Kandy said, sitting beside me and taking my hand. “And you’re going to be amazing.”
Just then, the door to the bedroom opened, and Cade stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the room with warmth and calm. He glanced at the packed suitcase, then at me, his eyes full of understanding.
“Hey, you two,” he said, his voice gentle. “How’s it going?”
I managed a small smile. “We’re packed. Or, at least, I think we are.”
Cade came closer, his gaze softening as he looked at me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Kandy squeezed my hand and stood. “I’ll give you two some space. I’ll be in the living room.”
After she left, Cade sat down beside me, his hand resting lightly on my knee. “I know this isn’t easy,” he said quietly. “But I’m so proud of you for facing this.”
I looked down, my fingers twisting together nervously. “What if it’s a mistake? What if going back there… what if it just makes everything worse?”
Cade shook his head, his eyes steady on mine. “It’s not a mistake, Karissa. It’s a part of your journey. And no matter what happens, you’re not alone. I’ll be right here, waiting for you, cheering you on.”
I felt my throat tighten, the fear and uncertainty swirling inside me like a storm. “I’m so scared, Cade.”
“I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing gently over my hand. “And it’s okay to be scared. But you’re stronger than you think. You’ve built a life here that you love, a life that’s yours. Going back to New York doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change who you are.”
I nodded, though my heart still felt heavy with doubt. “What if they can’t accept me? What if they hate me for what I’ve done?”
Cade’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, his voice firm. “Then that’s on them. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Karissa. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve become the person you were always meant to be, and that’s something to be proud of.”
I looked at him, my eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you.”
He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the upcoming trip hanging between us. Finally, I took a deep breath, feeling a small spark of determination ignite within me.
“I can do this,” I said softly, more to myself than to him. “I have to do this.”
Cade nodded, his eyes shining with pride. “Yes, you can. And you will.”
He pulled me into his arms, holding me close, and for a moment, I let myself melt into his embrace, drawing strength from his unwavering support. When we finally pulled apart, I felt a little steadier, a little more ready for what was to come.
Chapter 64: Navigating New Terrains
The next morning, Kandy and I arrived at the airport, the reality of the trip sinking in with each step we took toward the gate. The chatter of fellow travelers, the announcements over the intercom, the hum of engines—all of it seemed surreal, as if I were moving through a dream I couldn’t quite wake up from.
As we walked into the terminal, Kandy turned to me, her expression serious. “Are you ready for this?”
I nodded slowly, my heart pounding. “No. But I don’t think I ever will be.”
Kandy smiled, her eyes warm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be. Just take it one step at a time.”
The airport was bustling with the typical commotion of travelers—people rushing, announcements echoing, the hum of anticipation filling the air. Kandy and I made our way through the crowd at Houston’s Bush Intercontinental Airport, our destination gate looming in the distance.
As we approached the TSA security checkpoint, my heart rate quickened. I held Kai’s passport and my boarding pass in my hand, fingers gripping the documents like a lifeline. Kandy gave me a reassuring nod before stepping aside, letting me face this moment on my own.
I stepped forward, offering my ID and boarding pass to the TSA agent. He was a man in his fifties with a tired yet attentive demeanor. He took the passport, flipping it open to the photo page. His eyes moved slowly between the document and me, back and forth, assessing.
I kept my expression neutral, but I could feel a bead of sweat forming at my hairline. My smile was poised but fragile, a careful balance between Kai’s assured presence and my softer, more authentic self.
The agent hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. He looked back at the photo of Kai, then back at me. “Same person?” he asked, his tone flat but curious, as if he were simply confirming something routine.
My heart stuttered. I felt the eyes of the other passengers behind me, the impatience of the line building. I met his gaze, summoning every ounce of courage I had. “Same heart,” I said softly, my voice carrying a quiet, earnest weight. I added a gentle smile, the kind that spoke volumes without saying too much. “Please, sir.”
The agent’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, searching for something beyond the surface. Then, with a slight nod, he handed my passport and boarding pass back. “Have a safe journey, ma’am.”
The words were simple, professional, but there was something in his tone—an understanding that extended beyond the usual checkpoint protocol. A recognition, perhaps, that life’s journeys aren’t always straightforward.
My smile widened, relief flooding through me. “Thank you,” I said, the sincerity in my voice evident. It wasn’t just gratitude for being allowed through, but for the small, silent acknowledgment he had offered.
I walked past the checkpoint, my steps lighter but still a little shaky. Kandy was waiting just beyond, her expression a blend of pride and quiet strength. She didn’t say anything, just gave me a nod that spoke of her unwavering support.
I took a deep breath, feeling a little more anchored, a little more ready. The exchange had been a small victory, but in that moment, it felt monumental. I was doing this—taking it step by step, facing each challenge as it came.
As we moved toward our gate, I felt a small seed of hope take root amidst the nerves and anticipation. I didn’t know what awaited me in New York, but I was on my way. And that, for now, was enough.
We boarded the plane, settling into our seats, and as the engines roared to life, I felt a wave of anxiety crash over me. I glanced at Kandy, who reached out and took my hand, her grip steady and strong.
“We’re doing this,” Kandy said, her voice calm and sure. “And we’re going to get through it together.”
I took a deep breath, squeezing Kandy’s hand. “Together.”
As the plane lifted off, carrying us toward the city and the past that I had tried so hard to leave behind, I felt a strange mix of fear and determination rise within me. I wasn’t going back. I was moving forward, into the unknown, toward a future that was mine to shape.
And no matter what awaited me in New York, I knew one thing for certain: I was not the person I had been when I left. I was stronger, braver, and ready to face whatever came next.
With Kandy by my side, I could face anything. And as I stared out the window at the clouds drifting by, I felt the faintest glimmer of hope, like a new dawn breaking on the horizon.
Chapter 65: A Welcome from a Stranger
The plane touched down with a jolt, the wheels screeching against the tarmac as I clutched the armrests, my stomach twisting with nerves. I glanced at Kandy beside me, who gave me a reassuring nod. “We made it,” Kandy murmured, squeezing my hand. “First hurdle down.”
I managed a small smile, though my heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. “Yeah, just one flight across the country. No big deal,” I said, my voice shaky with forced bravado.
We disembarked and made our way through the bustling terminal, the noise and chaos of JFK Airport wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. The familiar scent of roasted coffee and fast food, the hum of distant conversations—it was all so painfully reminiscent of countless trips I’d taken as Kai. But this time, everything was different.
As we approached the baggage claim, I spotted Jordan waiting near a pillar, his tall frame unmistakable even in the crowd. He looked the same—scruffy beard, kind eyes—but there was a tightness to his expression, a worry that had never been there before.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered to Kandy, who gave me a gentle nudge forward.
Jordan’s eyes widened as we approached, his gaze flicking uncertainly between Kandy and me. He took a hesitant step forward, his brows knitting in confusion. “Kai?” he asked, his voice low and tentative.
My heart lurched at the sound of my old name, and I swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Kandy before meeting Jordan’s gaze. “It’s… Karissa now,” I said softly, my voice catching. “I go by Karissa.”
Jordan blinked, processing this new information, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to find the right words. “Karissa,” he repeated slowly, testing the name on his tongue. “Okay.” He nodded, more to himself than to me, and then his expression softened. “Okay.”
I felt a wave of relief wash over me, though the tension in my chest remained. “I, um… I thought it would be better to meet you here,” I said, glancing around at the busy terminal. “I’m not quite ready to go to the house yet.”
Jordan’s eyes softened with understanding. “Of course. I get it.” He hesitated, then reached out and pulled me into a gentle hug. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice warm and sincere. “We’ve missed you.”
I closed my eyes, leaning into the embrace, the familiar scent of his aftershave bringing back a flood of memories. For a moment, it felt like everything was normal, like nothing had changed. But then the reality of the situation crashed back in, and I pulled away, taking a deep breath.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you too.”
Jordan glanced at Kandy, his eyes questioning. “And you are…?”
“Kandy,” she said with a bright smile, stepping forward and extending her hand. “I’m Karissa’s friend. And travel companion.”
Jordan shook her hand, his grip firm but tentative. “Nice to meet you,” he said, though his eyes were already drifting back to me, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“Let’s grab our bags and get out of here,” I said, the tension in my voice making my throat tight. “I just… I need some air.”
They retrieved our luggage and made our way to the parking garage, the silence between us heavy but not unbearable. Jordan led us to his car, a well-worn sedan that had clearly seen better days, and we loaded our bags into the trunk.
As we pulled out of the garage and onto the highway, the city unfolding before us like a chaotic, sprawling tapestry, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. The familiarity of it all was disorienting, the sights and sounds tugging at my memories in a way that was both comforting and deeply unsettling.
“Mom and Dad know you’re here,” Jordan said quietly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “But I didn’t tell them… about the changes.”
I nodded, my heart pounding. “I figured. I just—let’s take it slow, okay?”
Jordan glanced at me, his expression serious. “Whatever you need, Karissa. I’m here for you.”
We drove in silence for a while, the city blurring past us in a whirl of lights and shadows. As they neared the hotel, Jordan cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. “I can’t believe you’re not staying at the house.”
I bit my lip, choosing my words carefully. “I just think it’s better this way. For now.”
Jordan nodded slowly, his gaze troubled but accepting. “Yeah, I get that.” He pulled into the hotel parking lot and turned off the engine, turning to face me fully. “I know this is going to be tough, but… I’m really glad you’re here. And no matter what happens, I’m on your side. Family is family.”
I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears, and I looked away, struggling to keep my composure. “Thank you, Jordan,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “That means a lot.”
They checked into the hotel, Kandy taking charge of the process with her usual efficiency while I stood off to the side, my nerves fraying at the edges. Once we were in our room, I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to all the questions swirling in my mind.
“Do you want to call them?” Kandy asked gently, sitting beside me on the bed. “Or wait?”
I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”
Kandy reached out and took my hand, her grip warm and steady. “You’re not alone, Karissa. We’ll get through this. Together.”
After a few moments, I took a deep breath and sat up, my resolve hardening. “I should call them,” I said, though the words tasted like ash in my mouth. “But not tonight. I just need… I need to get my head together first.”
Kandy nodded, her eyes full of understanding. “Whatever you need. I’m here.”
The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep, I found myself pacing the hotel room, my nerves shot. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart jumped into my throat, the thought of facing my family sending me into a tailspin of anxiety and dread.
Finally, around mid-morning, I took a deep breath and dialed my mother’s number, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. It rang twice before her voice came through, sharp and familiar.
“Kai?” My mother’s voice was edged with a mixture of worry and relief. “Where are you? Are you at the house?”
I hesitated, my heart pounding. “No, Mom. I’m… at a hotel.”
“A hotel?” My mother’s voice rose in surprise. “Why aren’t you here? Your father is—he’s not doing well.”
I bit my lip, my stomach twisting. “I know, Mom. I just… I need some time.”
There was a long pause, and I could almost hear her mother’s mind racing, trying to make sense of the situation. “Kai, what’s going on? Why are you acting so strange?”
I closed my eyes, willing myself to stay calm. “I’ll explain everything when I see you. I promise. But right now, I just need you to trust me, okay?”
Another pause, this one fraught with confusion and concern. “Okay, sweetheart. Just… please, come home soon.”
My throat tightened at the word “home,” but I forced myself to smile, even though my mother couldn’t see it. “I will, Mom. Soon.”
When I hung up, I felt like I could barely breathe, my chest tight with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I glanced at Kandy, who was watching me with a worried expression.
“Are you okay?” Kandy asked softly.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. “Yeah. I just… I need some air.”
We went for a walk, the cool autumn breeze cutting through the tension like a balm. We talked about everything but the looming confrontation, and by the time we returned to the hotel, I felt a little more centered, a little more ready to face what lay ahead.
That evening, Jordan came by the hotel to check in, bringing takeout from a nearby diner. We sat around the small table in the room, the scent of fried chicken and mashed potatoes filling the air, the conversation hesitant and careful.
“So,” Jordan said, setting down his fork and looking at me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. “What’s your plan?”
I took a deep breath, my hands trembling slightly. “I don’t know. I think I just need to go there, talk to them. See what happens.”
Jordan nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I think that’s the best you can do. Just… be honest, you know?”
I laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, because that’s gone so well so far.”
Jordan reached across the table and took her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Look, I know this is hard. But you’re doing the right thing. You’re being who you are, and that can be a challenge…for any of us.
Chapter 66: Reunion and Reconciliation
The front door opened to a familiar, uneasy silence. My sister, Bethany, stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the sight of me—now a woman, poised and nervous, looking nothing like the brother she once knew.
“Kai?” Bethany’s voice wavered, the name stumbling out as if it no longer belonged. Her eyes scanned my face, down to my outfit, and back up again, trying to reconcile this new reality.
“Hello” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “I prefer Karissa now.”
Bethany’s jaw tightened, her gaze hardening. “You… you can’t just show up like this. You have no idea what you’re doing, what kind of mess—”
“Bethany.” Jordan’s voice was low but steady, a warning. He stepped up beside me, his presence a solid, comforting weight. “Let’s just get inside and talk, okay?”
Bethany’s eyes flicked between us, lingering on my face before she stepped aside reluctantly. “Fine. Come in. But you need to know this is a terrible idea.”
I felt the words like a punch to the gut, but I forced myself to keep moving, to step inside the house I had once called home. Everything looked the same—the framed photos on the walls, the soft scent of lavender from their mother’s candles—but it felt foreign, like stepping into someone else’s life.
My mother appeared in the living room doorway, her face pale and drawn. “Kai—” She broke off, her eyes widening as she took in my appearance. “What… what’s going on?”
I swallowed hard, feeling the walls closing in. “Mom, it’s me. I… I’m Karissa now. I came because I heard about Dad, and I just—”
“You shouldn’t have come.” Bethany juts in again, her voice sharp, laced with fear. “He’s not at all well, and this—this would just be way too much for him.”
“Mom,” Jordan interjected softly, his voice a soothing balm. “She’s here because she cares. This is hard for everyone, but she has a right to be here.”
My mother looked at him, then back at me, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know if he can handle this, Kai—Karissa. He’s been so fragile, and if he sees you like this…”
“I’m still me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m still your child.”
My mother shook her head, her hands trembling. “I just… I can’t. I can’t do all of this right now.”
The room fell silent, the tension thick and suffocating. I felt my heart breaking, the rejection cutting deep. I looked at my mother, searching for any sign of acceptance, of love, but all I saw was fear and confusion.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears spilling over my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just… I wanted to see him. To say goodbye, if… if that’s what this is.”
My mother covered her mouth with her hand, a sob escaping. “I need some time,” she choked out, turning away. “I just… I can’t.”
Bethany stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You need to leave. This isn’t the time or place for whatever… this is.”
“Bethany, please,” Jordan started, but I held up a hand, silencing him.
“No, it’s okay.” My voice was shaky but determined. “I don’t want to make things worse. I’ll go.”
I turned and walked back to the door, my heart shattering with each step. Jordan followed me out, his face etched with worry and guilt.
“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly as we reached the car. “I didn’t know they’d react like that. I mean, I knew they’d be a bit shocked, they really had no idea but that just…sucked. I’m embarrassed.”
I shook my head, my hands trembling as I reached for the door handle. “It’s not your fault. I knew this would be hard. I just… I hoped.”
Jordan nodded, his eyes sad. “We’ll figure it out. Just… take some time, okay? I’ll talk to them.”
I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. As I slid into the passenger seat, I felt the weight of the rejection crushing me, suffocating my hope. They drove back to the hotel in silence, the air between us heavy with unspoken words.
Hours passed in a blur of tears and quiet despair. I lay on the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind replaying the painful encounter over and over. Each time, the rejection felt sharper, the pain deeper.
The door creaked open softly, and I didn’t need to look to know it was Kandy. I felt the bed dip as she sat down beside me, her presence a gentle comfort amidst the turmoil.
“I don’t even know what to say, babe,” she whispered, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “I can’t imagine how much that hurt.”
I sniffled, wiping at my eyes. “It was just… so much worse than I expected. I knew it would be hard, but the way they looked at me, like I was a stranger…”
Kandy’s hand moved in soothing circles on my back. “I wish I could make it better, but I know I can’t. All I can say is that you’re incredible for even trying. Most people would have given up a long time ago, but not you.”
“I just… I thought maybe if they saw me, really saw me, things would be different,” I murmured, my voice breaking. “But it’s like they’re still looking at someone else. Someone I’m not.”
She nodded, her expression full of empathy. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it takes a lot of courage to face that, to stand there and be yourself even when it’s so damn hard. You’re stronger than you think, Karissa.”
“Am I?” I asked, my voice small and uncertain. “Because right now, I feel like I’m falling apart.”
“That’s okay,” Kandy said softly. “It’s okay to fall apart sometimes. You don’t always have to be strong. But even when you feel like you’re breaking, you’re still showing up, still fighting. That’s what strength looks like.”
I turned to look at her, my eyes blurry with tears. “I’m so scared, Kandy. What if I’ve lost them for good?”
She shook her head, her gaze steady and sure. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do know this: no matter what, you’re going to be okay. You’ve got me, and Cade, and so many people who love you for who you are. You’re not alone. If I told Mrs H she’d charter a plane right up here and give them all a fierce lashing!”
I let out a shuddering breath and a rough laugh, feeling some of the tension ease out of my chest. Yes, I really believe she would too, thank you,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” she said with a soft smile. “I’m here, no matter what.”
We sat there in silence for a long time, her presence anchoring me as I tried to pull myself back together. When my phone finally buzzed on the nightstand, it was like a jolt back to reality. I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Bethany’s name. I hesitated, then swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
“Are you still at the hotel?” Bethany’s voice was strained, but not as hostile as before.
“Yeah,” I said cautiously. “Why?”
There was a long pause, then a sigh. “I’ve been talking to Mom. And… to Dad. He knows you’re here, and he wants to see you.”
I sat up, my heart racing. “He does?”
“Yeah,” Bethany said softly. “He wants to see his child. He… he just wants to see you, Karissa.”
Tears filled my eyes, hope blossoming painfully in my chest. “I don’t want to hurt him, Bethany. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“I know,” her sister replied, her voice gentle. “But he needs this. He needs to see you. Can I come pick you up?”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Yes. Please.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Bethany said, then hung up.
I sat there for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, the hope she had been holding at bay suddenly burning bright. I stood and began to gather my things, my hands shaking with nervous energy.
The drive back to the house was quiet, the tension between Kandy and me palpable. I kept my eyes on the road, my heart hammering in my chest. I couldn’t believe this was happening—that I was about to see my father, that he wanted to see me.
When we pulled up to the house, Bethany turned to me, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I was… I was scared. For him. For you. I didn’t handle it well.”
I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. “It’s okay. I get it.”
Bethany nodded, then reached over and squeezed my hand. “Let’s go see Dad.”
We walked inside together, the house quiet and dim. Our mother sat on the couch, her face pale and drawn. She looked up as we entered, her eyes widening when she saw me.
“Mom,” Bethany said gently. “Dad wants to see her. We talked about this.”
Our mother’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. “But just… be careful.”
“I will,” I promised, my heart aching at the sight of her mother’s fear.
We made their way down the hall to the bedroom where our father lay. My heart pounded in my chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. When we reached the door, I hesitated, fear gripping me.
“You can do this,” Bethany whispered, her voice firm but gentle. “He wants to see you.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath, then stepped inside.
My father looked up as I entered, his eyes widening. He looked frail, his skin pale and his frame shrunken. But his eyes were clear, and they shone with a warmth that took my breath away.
“Kai?” he whispered, his voice weak but filled with hope.
I swallowed hard, tears spilling down my cheeks. “No, Dad. It’s Karissa now.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. Then, slowly, he smiled. “Karissa,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “My love.”
My heart shattered and healed all at once, the weight of his acceptance overwhelming me. I stepped closer, my hands trembling. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just… I had to be me.”
My father reached out, his hand shaking as he took mine. “You didn’t hurt me, you never have” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”
I fell to my knees beside his bed, my tears mingling with his as I held his hand, the pain and fear melting away in the warmth of his acceptance. We stayed like that for a long time, the room filled with the quiet sound of our shared tears, our hands clasped together like a lifeline.
When I finally pulled away, my father looked at me, his eyes shining with a fierce, quiet pride. “I’m so proud of you, Karissa. For being who you are. For being brave.”
I nodded, my heart too full for words. I leaned down and kissed his forehead, my tears falling onto his skin. “I love you, Dad,” I whispered.
“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he replied, his voice strong despite his frailty.
We stayed like that for a while longer, the world outside fading away as we held onto each other, both savoring the long-awaited, hard-won reunion.
Finally, I pulled away, my eyes never leaving my father’s face. “Do you need anything, Dad? Are you comfortable?”
He smiled, a soft, peaceful smile that seemed to erase years of pain. “I have everything I need right here.” His eyes flicked toward Bethany, who stood quietly by the door, watching us with a mixture of relief and amazement. “I’m just glad to have my children here.”
Bethany stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears. “We’re here, Dad. And we’re going to take care of you.”
Our father nodded, his eyes drifting closed. “Good. Because I’m not done yet, you know. Not quite ready to give up.”
My heart swelled with hope, and I glanced at Bethany, seeing my own hope reflected in my sister’s eyes. Maybe this wasn’t the end—maybe, somehow, father’s strength would hold on a little longer.
“Let’s get some rest,” Bethany whispered, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “We’ve got time now. And we’re all together.”
I nodded, squeezing my father’s hand one last time before letting go. I followed Bethany out of the room, my heart still racing with the intensity of the moment, but the weight on my chest lifting just a little. It wasn’t perfect, but it was more than I had dared to hope for. Chapter 67: An Offer of Solidarity
Breakfast was a quiet affair the morning after my father and I had started mending the pieces of our fractured past. I still felt the raw edges of everything that had happened, but there was a tentative hope in the air, like the first green shoots breaking through the frost. It was the third day since Kandy and I had arrived, and the small hotel’s café was a cozy refuge, bustling with the soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of morning conversations. Sunlight poured in through the wide windows, making the steam from our coffee cups seem almost golden.
Kandy sat across from me, picking at her plate of pancakes. She’d been my rock since we left Texas, her presence a steady current that kept me from drifting into the darker waters of my thoughts. I was grateful beyond words for her, but something had been nudging at the back of my mind since last night, something I knew I had to say.
“Kandy…” I started, then stopped, not sure how to continue. I stirred my coffee again, as if I could find the right words swirling somewhere in the cup.
She glanced up, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah, babe?”
I took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking… You’ve been here with me, through all of this. And I don’t know how I would’ve made it without you. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay just because I’m here.”
She tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. “What are you talking about? I’m not staying because I have to. I’m here because I want to be, Karissa.”
“I know.” I smiled, though it felt heavy on my lips. “But it’s going to be a while. Things with my dad are… better, but it’s still a lot to deal with. You have your own life back in Texas, your clients, everything. I don’t want you to feel like you’re putting everything on hold for me.”
Kandy leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she studied me. “You think I’m going to just abandon you now? After everything we’ve been through?”
“No, not at all,” I said quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden. I know how hard this must be for you, being here, dealing with all my family drama. You didn’t sign up for this.”
She snorted softly. “Karissa, if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. You know that. But I get it. You’re worried about me. It’s kind of sweet, actually.” Her smile was gentle, and it made my eyes sting with unexpected tears. “But listen, I know this is hard. Seeing your family again, the way they’ve treated you. I can’t imagine how much that hurts. But you’re facing it. You’re standing up and being who you are, even when it’s not easy. And I’m so damn proud of you for that.”
Her words felt like a balm on an open wound. I blinked rapidly, looking down at my hands. “I don’t feel very brave.”
“Well, you are,” she said firmly. “Brave as hell. But I get it. You want to do this on your own terms. So, how about this—I’ll go down to the city for a bit, visit some friends I’ve been putting off for ages. You know I’ve been dying to see some Broadway shows, hit up a few galleries. I’ll give you space to deal with things here, but I’m just a couple of hours away. I can come back if you need me.”
I looked up, surprised. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course. It’s not like I’m leaving you stranded. And let’s be honest, I could use a little New York fix. Texas is great and all, but sometimes a girl needs a bit more hustle and bustle.”
I laughed, a real laugh this time, and the tightness in my chest eased a little. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.” She grinned, then leaned forward, her expression softening. “But seriously, you’ve got this, Karissa. And if you don’t, I’ll be back in a heartbeat.”
“Thank you, Kandy. For everything.”
Her gaze softened even more, and she reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. “You’re going to get through this. Just remember you’re not alone. No matter what happens with your dad, or your mom, or anyone else—you’ve got people who love you. You’ve got me.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And I’m so lucky to have you.”
“Damn right you are,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze. “Now, finish your coffee before it gets cold. You’ve got a big day ahead.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while after that, sipping our coffee and picking at our breakfast. I felt a little lighter, a little more ready to face whatever came next. Kandy had a way of doing that—making the impossible seem possible, the unbearable a little more bearable.
When we finished, we walked back to our room, where Kandy started packing her things. The thought of her leaving made my heart twist a bit, but I knew it was for the best. She needed to stretch her wings, to have her own space, and I needed to find my own strength.
“You sure you’ll be okay here without me?” she asked as she zipped up her suitcase.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “It’s going to be hard, but I have to do this.”
“I know.” She smiled, that same confident, supportive smile that had gotten me through so many tough times. “But just know, I’m only a phone call away. And I’ll be checking in. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
After a hug that felt both like a goodbye and a promise, we headed to the train station. Watching Kandy board the train, I felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, sadness, and a kind of pride in both of us. We were doing this, navigating our own paths, but still connected, still there for each other.
As the train pulled away, I waved until I couldn’t see her anymore, then turned and walked back to the hotel alone. The air felt different, sharper, the world a little more daunting without her by my side. But I knew I had to do this. For myself, for my family, for everything I’d been through to get here.
Back at the hotel, I took a long walk, letting my thoughts drift. The trees were beginning to turn, their leaves a riot of colors against the clear blue sky. It felt like a new beginning, a chance to rewrite my story, to decide what came next.
By the time I returned to my room, I felt more grounded, more ready. I pulled out my phone and sent Kandy a quick text, letting her know I’d made it back okay. She replied almost instantly, telling me to keep her updated and not to do anything stupid without her. I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me.
I sat down on the bed, staring out the window at the quiet street below. Things were going to be different now, I knew that. But I felt like I was ready to face whatever came next.
Chapter 68: Recovery and Renewal
The days that followed were a blur of cautious optimism. I stayed at the family home, spending my mornings and afternoons with my father, reading to him, talking about old memories, and sharing my some of my dreams and plans as Karissa. There were still awkward moments, moments when I saw the confusion or sadness in my father’s eyes, but they were outweighed by the joy of simply being together, of being accepted.
Bethany’s initial frostiness thawed as she saw the effect I had on our father. He seemed to brighten, his spirits lifting as he spoke with his daughters, his voice growing stronger each day. It was as if, somehow, my presence was giving him back a little of the strength he had lost.
One evening, after we had put father to bed, Bethany and I sat in the kitchen, sipping tea in a comfortable, companionable silence. The house was quiet, the kind of peace that felt like a reprieve after the storm.
“I have to say, you surprised me,” Bethany said suddenly, breaking the silence. She looked at me with something like admiration in her eyes. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would go this well.”
I smiled, though I could still feel the lingering ache of their first encounter. “Neither did I, honestly. I thought I’d come here and just… I don’t know, mess everything up.”
Bethany shook her head, her expression softening. “No. You’ve done the opposite. I think… I think he really needed to see you. To see that you’re okay.”
“I’m more than okay,” I said quietly, my voice steady. “I’m finally happy.”
Bethany’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “I’m glad. I really am.”
We sat there for a long time, our hands clasped, the silence between us no longer strained but filled with the quiet understanding of two people who had fought and found their way back to each other.
The next day, our father’s doctor came to the house for a check-up, and the news was better than any of them had dared hope. He was still weak, still in need of constant care, but his vitals were stable, his heart showing signs of improvement.
“I think he might be ready to go home in a few days,” the doctor said, her voice cautious but optimistic. “If he keeps progressing like this, I don’t see why not.”
Bethany exchanged a glance, relief and hope mingling in her eyes. It felt like a miracle, like a gift we hadn’t dared to wish for.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” the doctor cautioned, her gaze serious. “He still has a long road ahead, but… he’s a fighter.”
“Yeah,” I said softly, my heart swelling with pride. “He is.”
That evening, as I was talking to Cade on the phone, her father quietly watched me from the doorway. She was unaware that he had awoken, watching my face glowing with happiness as I laughed at something Cade had said, my voice warm and full of love.
My father’s heart swelled at the sight, a deep, abiding peace settling over him. For so long, he had worried about his children, about the lives we were living, the choices we were making. But seeing me like this—seeing me happy, truly happy—he felt something inside him shift.
He wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of the future, not of what might come. Because in that moment, he realized that the most important thing wasn’t how much time he had left, but how he used that time, how he chose to love and support his children, no matter who we were or who we chose to be.
The next few days passed in a blur of cautious optimism and growing joy. My father continued to improve, his strength returning little by little, his spirits high. And I felt like there was hope, real hope, that things would be okay.
On the day he was finally discharged, the entire family gathered at the house, their hearts light with relief and happiness. We helped him settle in, making sure he was comfortable, fussing over him until he laughed and shooed us away.
“You’re worse than your mother,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “I’m fine, I promise.”Chapter 69: Leaving, but Keeping Family Close
The morning I was set to leave, Bethany stayed back at the house, her presence a protective, steady anchor in the emotional storm of our family. We’d shared a quiet breakfast, mostly in silence, communicating more through glances and touches than words. Her support meant everything to me, but I could see the strain on her face, the weight of holding the family together as I took this next step.
“Promise you’ll come back soon?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly as she hugged me at the door.
“I promise,” I murmured, holding her tightly. “And I’ll call, every day. We’re doing this together, remember?”
She nodded, and we parted with a lingering smile that spoke of love and resilience. As I turned to leave, Dad insisted on seeing me off, despite everyone’s protests. He sat in his wheelchair at the doorway, a blanket draped over his lap, looking frail but more alive than I’d seen him in a long time.
Jordan and I exchanged a look before he stepped forward to help, but Dad waved him off, his eyes sparkling with determination. “I’m good, I’m good,” he said, a trace of his old stubbornness in his voice.
He beckoned me closer, his hand trembling as he reached out. I knelt beside his chair, taking his hand gently in mine. The strength in his grip was a revelation, a reminder of the man he used to be and, maybe, still was.
“I’m proud of you,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper. “For everything you’ve done. For being you. You’ve lifted us all up, Karissa. You’ve lifted me.”
I swallowed hard, emotion tightening my throat. “Dad, I didn’t—”
He shook his head, squeezing my hand tighter. “No, listen to me. You’ve given me something to fight for. You’ve given all of us that. Maybe… maybe even saved my life.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and poignant. I wanted to protest, to tell him he was the one fighting, that he was the strong one, but I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, my heart full and aching.
“I’ll come back soon, Dad. I promise. As soon as I can.”
He smiled, a weary but genuine smile that made my chest ache. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.”
Jordan, standing a few steps behind me, cleared his throat softly, his eyes meeting mine with an unspoken understanding. I squeezed Dad’s hand one last time, then stood, wiping at the tears that blurred my vision.
Bethany stepped forward to hug me again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Take care of yourself, okay? And call me. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
I nodded, unable to speak, and turned to Jordan, who had quietly been loading my bags into his car. We exchanged a silent nod before I climbed into the passenger seat, glancing back one last time at the house, at Dad and Bethany standing in the doorway, their hands raised in farewell.
As we pulled away, the bittersweet weight of leaving pressed down on me, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Dad needed this time to heal, to grow stronger, and I needed to find my own strength too, in my own way.
The drive to the airport was mostly quiet, the hum of the road a soothing backdrop to the tumult of my thoughts. I stared out the window, watching the familiar scenery blur past, the small towns and fields I’d known my whole life.
Jordan glanced over at me, breaking the silence gently. “You okay?”
I managed a smile, turning to look at him. “I think so. It’s just… hard. Leaving.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful and kind. “I get it. But you’re doing the right thing. You’ve done so much already, for everyone. It’s okay to take this time for yourself, too.”
His words sank in slowly, their truth undeniable. I’d been so focused on everyone else, on what they needed from me, that I’d almost forgotten I had needs too. That I was allowed to seek my own peace, my own happiness.
“I hope so,” I said quietly. “I just want to do right by them, by all of us.”
Jordan reached over, his hand warm and solid as it rested on my arm. “You already have, Karissa. More than you know.”
We arrived at the airport too soon, the minutes slipping away as we navigated the crowded terminal. Jordan helped me with my bags, his presence steady and comforting, a reminder that I wasn’t as alone in this as I sometimes felt.
He pulled me into a hug before I went through security, holding me tightly for a moment that felt like forever. “You’ve got this,” he whispered. “Whatever happens, you’ve got this.”
Tears prickled at my eyes, but I blinked them back, nodding as I pulled away. “Thank you, Jordan. For everything.”
“Anytime,” he said with a smile that was both reassuring and a little sad. “Go make us all proud, okay?”
I nodded, a lump in my throat as I turned away and headed towards the gate, the noise and chaos of the airport a surreal contrast to the quiet storm inside me.
As I boarded the plane, settling into my seat, I took a deep breath, letting the tension slowly seep out of me. It was a new beginning, a step into the unknown. But it was time, and I felt ready.
I looked out the window as the plane took off, watching the ground fall away beneath me, the world spreading out in a vast, endless expanse. I was leaving home, but I wasn’t running away. I was moving forward, towards something new, something hopeful. And for now, that was enough.
Chapter 70: Arrival in NYC
I stepped out of the cab onto the bustling sidewalk, the familiar cacophony of New York City enveloping me like a long-lost friend. A mix of taxi horns, distant music, and animated conversations in a dozen different languages formed a symphony I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much. As I adjusted my sunglasses and took in the view, a rush of emotions surged through me—nostalgia, excitement, and a touch of anxiety.
Central Park spread out just across the street, its green canopy offering a welcome contrast to the sea of concrete and glass surrounding it. The Pierre Hotel, our temporary home, loomed majestically behind me. I took a deep breath, savoring the unmistakable scent of the city—hot dog carts, roasting chestnuts, a faint hint of exhaust. It was gritty and beautiful all at once, a place where everything seemed possible.
I hadn’t even made it inside when I heard a familiar voice calling my name.
“Karissa!” Kandy came bounding down the front steps, her face lit up with a beaming smile. She looked effortlessly chic in a fitted blazer and wide-legged trousers, her hair bouncing in glossy waves. She pulled me into a tight hug, the scent of her floral perfume blending with the city’s unique aroma.
“You made it!” she exclaimed, pulling back to give me a once-over. “And looking fabulous as ever.”
I laughed, feeling the last remnants of travel fatigue dissolve under her infectious energy. “You too, Kandy. It’s so good to see you.”
We made our way inside, the cool, sophisticated lobby a soothing refuge from the city’s heat. After dropping off my luggage in our room—a spacious suite with breathtaking views of the park—we headed out, eager to immerse ourselves in the city.
Our first stop was Greenwich Village, a place etched with memories of my past life as Kai. We wandered along tree-lined streets, past the brownstones and quaint shops that made the Village feel like a small town nestled within the big city. We strolled down Bleecker Street, passing iconic spots like Murray’s Cheese Shop and John’s of Bleecker Street Pizza.
“God, it feels like a lifetime ago,” I murmured as we stood in front of the Stonewall Inn. The historic bar looked much the same as it had all those years ago, a symbol of resilience and pride. “I used to come here sometimes… when I needed to feel a part of something bigger than myself.”
Kandy slipped her arm through mine, squeezing gently. “It must be strange, coming back as Karissa now. But in a good way, I hope?”
I nodded, my eyes drifting over the rainbow flags fluttering in the breeze. “Yeah, in a good way. It’s like… reclaiming this place. Making new memories.”
We wandered deeper into the Village, eventually stopping at Café Reggio on MacDougal Street. I smiled as we took a seat by the window, the café’s eclectic décor and rich scent of espresso evoking a flood of memories.
“I used to come here and sketch,” I said, gesturing to the worn wooden tables and the Renaissance paintings lining the walls. “Pretend I was some tortured artist.”
Kandy laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Well, look at you now, Ms. Artiste. But seriously, it’s amazing to see you here, comfortable in your skin. And to share this with you.”
We ordered cappuccinos and sat there, talking about everything and nothing, watching the eclectic mix of people passing by outside. It felt so natural, slipping back into the rhythm of the city, the flow of conversation. I could feel the city’s energy seep into my veins, reigniting something that had been dormant for too long.
The day unfolded like a perfectly curated dream. We roamed through SoHo, popping into art galleries and boutiques, the air filled with the hum of creativity and commerce. I marveled at the blend of old and new—the cast-iron facades alongside sleek, modern storefronts, the juxtaposition of street art and luxury. I texted Cade all day, sending photos of our adventure, letting him know I was better than alright, I was actually having the most fun I’ve had in years. I told him I could see a day soon when he would make the trip with me to meet my family, and then we too could come and explore the city. We agreed to this as an imminent plan, it filled my heart with happiness and resolve.
At the Whitney Museum, we lost ourselves in an exhibition featuring emerging artists. Kandy was particularly taken with a series of bold, abstract paintings, while I found myself drawn to a collection of haunting photographs that seemed to capture the essence of the city—its grit, its beauty, its endless contradictions.
Standing in front of one particularly striking image—a blurred shot of a woman crossing a rain-slicked street, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement like stars—I felt a familiar pull in my chest.
“Maybe this is where I need to be,” I mused aloud. “Not just New York, but in a place like this—where art meets life, where I can push myself, find new ways to express everything I’m feeling.”
Kandy turned to me, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve got so much to offer, Karissa. You’ve done incredible things already, but I know there’s more. Bigger things. You could really put yourself out there, you know? Do something huge.”
Her words stirred something deep within me, a desire I’d been keeping at bay for too long. “Like what? A show, maybe? I mean, I’ve thought about it, but…”
“More than that,” she interrupted, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “A whole new venture. What about film? You’ve got the experience, the connections. You could be in front of the camera, behind it, directing, producing… all of it.”
The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying. “You really think I could do that?”
“Absolutely.” She placed a hand on my arm, her gaze steady and sincere. “You’re a storyteller, Karissa. You’ve got a unique voice, and people need to hear it. And with everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve overcome… you’re ready.”
We continued to talk as we walked through the museum, sketching out ideas, letting our imaginations run wild. It felt good to dream, to think about the future in such a tangible way. For so long, I’d been focused on survival, on getting through the next day, the next obstacle. But now, I felt the stirrings of something more—hope, excitement, possibility.
As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the city, we found ourselves back at Central Park, sitting on a bench overlooking the lake. The air was cool and crisp, the sound of laughter and distant music floating around us.
Kandy stretched out her legs, her expression serene. “This was the perfect day. I needed this. We both did.”
I nodded, watching the boats glide across the water, the skyline towering beyond. “Yeah. It feels like… I don’t know, like I’m finally coming full circle. Like I’m finding my way back to myself.”
She turned to me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You’ve always been you, Karissa. It just took the world a while to catch up.”
We sat there in companionable silence, the city’s energy buzzing around us, the lights beginning to twinkle as evening fell. I felt a deep sense of peace, of belonging. I was in New York, in the city that had once been my home, but this time, I was here as me. As Karissa.
And as I looked out over the shimmering lake, the skyline etched against the darkening sky, I felt ready for the future in a more grounded and optimistic way than I ever had a chance to. I have earned this.
Chapter 71: Brainstorming Bonds
The late-morning light danced across the skyline as Kandy and I sat at an upscale rooftop restaurant, high above the bustling streets of New York City. The terrace overlooked the vast expanse of Central Park, with its emerald green oasis nestled amidst the towering buildings. Soft jazz floated through the air, blending with the distant sounds of the city—the honks, the hum of people in motion, the ever-present rhythm of life.
I swirled my mimosa absently, glancing across the table at Kandy, who sat with a slight furrow between her brows as she scanned the brunch menu. I noted it—the small but unmistakable tension in Kandy’s demeanor. I had known my friend long enough to catch when something was off, but Kandy had been good at masking it, slipping back into her effortless, glamorous exterior.
I smiled, leaning back in my seat. “I can’t believe we’re really here,” I said, allowing myself a moment to take in the magnitude of it all. “In New York again. I thought I’d feel more… disoriented, but it’s weird how much this place still feels like home.”
Kandy’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “It suits you,” she said, her tone warm but carrying a hint of something I couldn’t quite place. “You seem like you’re in your element here.”
“I guess in a way, I am,” I admitted. “I have so many memories here… a lot of them bittersweet. The old me—Kai—walked these streets, dreamed big dreams, and had no idea where life would lead. And now, being here as Karissa, it feels like I’ve come full circle.”
Kandy nodded, her eyes tracing the outline of the skyline. For a moment, the conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, both of us lost in our thoughts as we sipped our drinks. The waiter returned, bringing our plates—decadent avocado toast for me and an artful presentation of eggs benedict for Kandy.
“I’m glad you made it here,” Kandy said after a beat, her voice softer now. “It’s not easy to come back to a place where so much has happened… to face all those ghosts.”
I smiled at the choice of words. “Ghosts, huh? I think I’ve been carrying some of them for a while, and I didn’t even know it until I came back. But you know, it feels different now. Lighter, maybe. Like I’m finally becoming the person I always needed to be.”
Kandy gave a slight nod, though her gaze had drifted away, focusing on something—or perhaps someone—in the distance. Her fork idly pushed a piece of toast around her plate, but I noticed she wasn’t really eating.
“Kandy… everything okay?” I asked gently, leaning forward.
Kandy blinked, as if pulled from a daydream. “Huh? Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” she said quickly, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something deeper.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, sensing that Kandy wasn’t being fully truthful. But I didn’t push, at least not yet. Instead, I shifted the conversation to a lighter topic. “You know what I’ve been thinking about? Combining our skills and doing something real with it. I know we’ve tossed the idea around before, but what if we actually make it happen?”
Kandy perked up slightly at the mention of work, and I saw her latch onto the idea, perhaps as a distraction from whatever was lurking beneath the surface.
“You mean a business? Like, a production company?” Kandy asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Exactly. We’ve both got the skills, Kandy. You’re incredible at organizing and managing, and I’ve got a creative eye. We could create something amazing together, especially for the LGBTQIA+ community—like media that really represents us, positive stories, job opportunities for people who feel like they don’t belong anywhere else.”
Kandy tapped her fork against her plate, thinking it over. “You really think there’s a market for that?”
“I know there is,” I said confidently. “Look at the world right now. People are hungry for representation, for voices that haven’t been heard. We could do something that actually makes a difference.”
Kandy let out a slow breath, clearly intrigued by the idea but still distracted. “It sounds like a dream, Karissa. I just… I don’t know if I’m ready to jump into something that big.”
I tilted my head. “Why not? What’s holding you back?”
Kandy hesitated, and I caught a flicker of something in her eyes—a shadow of doubt, maybe even fear. For a brief moment, it seemed like Kandy was on the verge of saying something, but then she pulled back, putting on her usual bright smile.
“Nothing’s holding me back,” Kandy said, brushing it off. “I’m just thinking about all the logistics, you know? We’re still figuring things out with Mrs. H’s help, and—”
“Kandy,” I interrupted gently. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know there’s something going on. What is it?”
Kandy’s facade cracked just a little, and she let out a nervous laugh. “God, Karissa, you really don’t miss a thing, do you?”
I smiled softly. “Not when it comes to you, no.”
Kandy’s gaze dropped to her plate. She was quiet for a long moment, her fork still in her hand but motionless now. “There’s… a lot I haven’t told you about my past,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
I didn’t push; I just waited, knowing that Kandy needed to speak at her own pace.
“I was married once,” Kandy said, her words heavy with the weight of memories she’d kept buried. “It was a long time ago. We were both so young, and I thought… I thought it was love. But it wasn’t. He was manipulative, controlling, and eventually, abusive. It took me years to break free, and when I finally did, I left everything behind. Including him.”
My heart tightened. “Kandy, I had no idea…”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Kandy said, her voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t want anyone to know how stupid I was, how trapped I felt. And now… he’s back in New York. I found out recently that he’s tied to some of the same people we’ve been meeting with. That’s why I’ve been so… off.”
I reached across the table, taking Kandy’s hand in mine. “You’re not stupid, Kandy. You were in a terrible situation, and you did what you had to do to survive. You got out. You’re here, and you’re stronger than ever.”
Kandy’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, letting her guard down completely. “I don’t know if I can face him again, Karissa. I thought I’d moved on, but just the thought of seeing him… it brings everything back.”
I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to face him alone, Kandy. I’m here. We’re going to figure this out, together. And you’re going to rise above this, like the Phoenix you are.”
Kandy let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening around my hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said with a smile. “We’re in this together, no matter what.”
Kandy nodded, her expression softening as she wiped away a tear. “Thank you,” she whispered.
For a moment, we sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between us. But it was a good silence—one that brought us closer, a bond forged through shared vulnerabilities and unspoken promises.
As we finished our brunch, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. I, always the dreamer, started sketching out ideas for our potential media company on a napkin, while Kandy laughed at my enthusiasm, the tension from earlier slowly ebbing away.
But both of us knew that this was just the beginning. Kandy’s past was creeping closer, and soon, it would collide with the present. But for now, we had each other, and that was enough to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As we stood to leave the restaurant, I threw an arm around Kandy’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “We’re going to do this,” I said confidently. “We’re going to build something incredible.”
Kandy smiled, the first real smile I had seen all day. “Yeah,” she said softly. “We are.”
Chapter 72: Night Out, New Opportunity
The late-afternoon sun hung low over the city as Kandy and I stepped out of the town car, our heels clicking against the cobblestone street in a quiet neighborhood in SoHo. The evening air had begun to cool, and there was a hum of anticipation between us as we approached the loft where the dinner party was being held. The building was unassuming from the outside—red-bricked, ivy creeping up its walls—but I knew the world we were about to step into was anything but.
Kandy adjusted her dress as we made our way inside, her nerves appearing to have settled since our brunch earlier in the day. She was back in her element: poised, radiant, the faint tension around her eyes all but gone. I admired the way Kandy could shift—seamlessly hiding the weight she carried, gliding into these spaces with effortless grace. But I, too, was learning to read her more deeply. The slight stiffness in Kandy’s posture, the way her fingers lightly tapped the side of her purse—it was all still there, just beneath the surface.
The loft was stunning. Exposed beams stretched across the ceiling, and massive windows framed the New York skyline in the twilight. The space was filled with eclectic art pieces, sculptures, and the kind of avant-garde décor that told you this was someone who knew how to live well. The buzz of conversation and soft music blended together, a low hum of creativity and wealth. I recognized a few faces from years back—people I’d crossed paths with during my time in the city, a lifetime ago when I was still navigating my identity.
We were greeted at the door by Jonathan, an old art school friend of mine who had since become a successful indie film director. His short-cropped hair and tailored suit gave him an air of casual chic, but his smile was warm as ever.
Jonathan spotted me the moment I walked through the door, his eyes lighting up in recognition, but it took him a moment—just a second of disbelief—to fully process what he was seeing. His expression morphed from a mixture of confusion to sheer, unabashed joy, and without a second thought, he bounded across the room toward me.
“Karissaaaaa!” His voice boomed, a mixture of shock and admiration, his arms thrown wide as if he were preparing to embrace the entire room. His booming greeting caught the attention of nearly everyone in the loft, all eyes suddenly on me. Jonathan reached me in what felt like a few long strides, pulling me into an exaggerated, spinning hug. “Holy shit—you look unbelievable!”
He pulled back just enough to take in the full transformation, his eyes running over me with an appreciation that was both artistic and deeply personal. “I mean, I knew you’d pull it off, but this? This?” He gestured wildly up and down, as if my very presence had rendered him speechless. “This is a revelation! Forget everything—this is your masterpiece!”
The loft buzzed with curious whispers and approving glances. Jonathan, ever the showman, wasn’t finished. He turned toward the crowd, raising his arms like he was about to announce a star’s grand entrance on opening night. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the one and only Karissa!” His voice was filled with such over-the-top theatricality that a few people whooped and clapped, taking his cue.
The energy in the room shifted palpably as heads turned and more people realized who had just walked in. A ripple of recognition washed over the crowd, and Jonathan, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, egged them on. “Let’s hear it for her! A full damn standing ovation for this goddess!”
A few people, already several glasses deep into their cocktails, began to whistle and cheer, standing up and clapping in exaggerated fashion. Even those who didn’t know me joined in, swept up in the exuberant moment. Laughter mingled with applause, and it became impossible to ignore the surge of attention.
Jonathan’s grin widened as he saw my cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and pride at being so openly celebrated. He leaned in, dropping his voice conspiratorially but still loud enough to be heard. “You… my dear, are stunning. I don’t know what I expected, but you—hell, you’re putting every woman in this room to shame right now.”
He stood back a little, still beaming, but with a genuine warmth behind his playful antics. “I mean, wow. I thought I knew Kai, but Karissa? Karissa is an icon. You’ve blown every expectation I had out of the water.”
I could only laugh, shaking my head as Jonathan turned to Kandy, who had been watching with an amused grin. “And you must be the famous Kandy I’ve heard all about. You’ve got good taste, girl.” He gave Kandy a quick, approving once-over before enveloping her in a hug that was almost as exuberant as the one he’d given me. “I hope you’re ready because you’re about to be a part of something huge tonight.”
With that, he threw an arm around each of us, his booming voice carrying once again. “Come on, let’s get you both inside. I want to introduce you to everyone.” And with that, the night—already buzzing with energy—seemed to crackle with a whole new kind of excitement.
As we stepped further into the room, I felt that familiar twinge of nostalgia—the sense of being back in my old world, but in a new skin. I no longer felt like an outsider here. I belonged. And it was intoxicating.
The evening unfolded in a swirl of introductions and conversations. The room was filled with actors, directors, producers, artists—some I had worked with before, some whose work I admired from afar. Kandy, always the social butterfly, moved through the crowd with ease, making connections, charming everyone she met. But I kept an eye on her, sensing that under her polished exterior, Kandy was still processing the emotions from earlier that day.
As the night wore on, the energy of the party shifted. Conversations that began lighthearted and casual slowly evolved into deeper discussions about work and creative ventures. Jonathan and I had been chatting for a while, moving from industry gossip to more substantive talks about filmmaking and the rapidly changing landscape of media.
Jonathan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping as though he was about to confide in me. “You know,” he began, swirling the last of his whiskey in the glass, “I’ve got this project on my plate that’s been giving me a headache. It’s a passion project, but the logistics are… complicated, to say the least.”
I cocked my head, intrigued. “What’s the issue?”
“It’s mostly the location,” Jonathan said with a sigh. “We’re trying to shoot these large-scale, rural scenes—real Americana landscapes—but the team I’ve got in New York is pushing to do it all at Silvercup. That means we’d have to green-screen half of the exteriors, and frankly, it’s not going to look right. But I don’t have the budget to go full rural-location on the East Coast either, so I’m stuck. The higher-ups don’t seem to get why I’m so dead-set on authenticity. It’s driving me nuts.”
I sat back, considering the problem, but before I could chime in, Kandy, who had been quietly listening in from her spot across the couch, looked over at Jonathan with a spark in her eye.
“Why not Texas?” she asked, casual but confident.
Jonathan blinked, caught off guard. “Texas?”
“Yeah,” Kandy said, sitting up a little straighter. “Think about it. You’re already struggling with the costs of trying to make New York work for rural shots, but Texas has the landscape you’re looking for. Why not split the production? You could shoot your exteriors in Texas—real locations, cheaper, great state incentives for film productions—and then do all your interiors at Silvercup in New York. You’d save money even with flying in and accommodating your key cast and crew, especially if you used local Texas talent and resources to supplement.”
Jonathan stared at her, his expression unreadable for a moment, then slowly began to nod as if something was starting to click into place.
“Hold on,” he said, sitting up with a sudden burst of energy. “That could actually work. Hell, I don’t know why I didn’t even think of that. The idea of splitting the production hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
Kandy smiled, and I could practically see the gears turning in Jonathan’s head.
“It’s a win-win,” Kandy continued, leaning in now, fully invested. “You get the authentic look you want without compromising on budget. Plus, Texas has tons of untapped talent—both crew and actors. You’d be helping out the local scene and making your film feel more grounded. We know the area. We could help connect you with people.”
Jonathan’s gaze flicked between us, and for the first time all evening, his slightly distant, cool demeanor melted into something warmer, more animated. He was starting to see it.
“You know,” he said, his eyes locking onto Kandy, “you’ve got a real knack for this. I didn’t come here tonight expecting a solution to my production problems, but damn, you just handed it to me.”
I could feel the shift in the room, a kind of electric charge buzzing between us as Jonathan stood, clearly invigorated by the conversation. He gestured for us to follow him to a quieter corner of the room where we could talk more.
“If the two of you worked on this with me,” he continued, his voice lowering as if this idea was now solidifying in his mind, “I think we could pull it off. Kandy, you’ve obviously got the organizational skills I need, and Karissa, your creative edge… Well, I already know you can deliver. If we move fast, I think we can make this happen. It’ll be tight, but that’s the fun of indie filmmaking, right?”
Kandy and I exchanged a look. For a moment, it was as if the world had shifted under our feet, but in a good way—like the kind of kismet that only happens when you’re exactly where you need to be.
“I’m in,” I said, the words tumbling out, but this time with the full weight of certainty behind them.
Kandy nodded enthusiastically. “Me too.”
Jonathan grinned, that glint of a filmmaker catching sight of the impossible, ready to grab it and make it real. “Good,” he said. “Then let’s make some magic.”
The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of excitement and rapid planning. I couldn’t believe how serendipitous it all felt, but the reality was sinking in: Kandy and I had not only found the spark we were looking for, but we had stepped up to claim it. It felt like we were creating something entirely our own.
The path wasn’t being handed to us. We were carving it out ourselves. And with Jonathan’s enthusiasm now fully behind us, there was nothing stopping us from charging forward, full speed ahead.
As Jonathan moved on to greet another guest, my mind raced. This could be the opportunity we’d been looking for—the chance to create something on our own terms. A production company, a new venture. The possibilities were endless.
I drifted through the crowd, making my way toward Kandy. Her friend was laughing, a flute of champagne in hand, completely in her element. But I caught the slight flicker of tension in Kandy’s eyes as she glanced over her shoulder, almost reflexively, as if expecting someone to appear. It was so quick, so subtle, that anyone else might have missed it. But I didn’t.
“Kandy,” I said as I reached her, touching her arm lightly.
Kandy turned, her smile still in place, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
Kandy nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah, of course. Just… a lot of people, a lot of energy.”
I gave her a knowing look. “Want to take a break? We can step outside for a bit.”
Kandy hesitated, her eyes flicking across the room once more, then back to me. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Let’s do that.”
We made our way to the rooftop terrace, a quieter space where the distant hum of the city provided a soothing backdrop. The air was cooler now, the stars just starting to peek through the twilight sky.
Kandy leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not being a very good friend tonight, am I?”
I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You’re being you, Kandy. And if you need space, that’s okay. But you know I’m here, right? For whatever you need.”
Kandy’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, though she quickly blinked them away. “It’s just… being back here. It’s bringing up stuff I thought I’d buried. And then, earlier, talking about my ex… I didn’t think I’d still be this affected. But here I am, looking over my shoulder every five minutes, like he’s going to walk through the door.”
I nodded, understanding the weight of what Kandy was saying. “I can’t imagine what that’s like,” I said softly. “But I do know that you’re safe now. And you’re not alone in this.”
Kandy’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she turned to face me fully. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I gave her a small smile. “Well, you won’t have to find out.”
We stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the city lights flicker on as the night deepened. My mind drifted back to Jonathan’s offer, the excitement building again in my chest.
“By the way,” I said, breaking the silence, “I might have found us a project. A film shoot. In Texas.”
Kandy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on…”
“Jonathan’s looking for a production team to come in on his new project. He thinks we’d be a perfect fit—you, me, all of it. It could be the start of something huge for us, Kandy.”
Kandy’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. We’d be working with a bunch of great people, making something real. And it’s in Texas, so it’s not like we’d have to relocate.”
For the first time all night, I saw a spark of excitement in Kandy’s eyes that wasn’t dimmed by fear or anxiety. “That sounds amazing,” she said, her tone laced with disbelief. “But can we really pull it off?”
I grinned. “Of course we can. We’ve got the skills, the connections… and we’ve got each other.”
Kandy chuckled softly. “You’re right. We can do this.”
And with that, the evening shifted. The weight that had been hanging over both of us seemed to lift, replaced by the possibilities of what could come next. It wasn’t about leaving the past behind—it was about building something new, together.
The city lights glowed brighter as we re-entered the party, a quiet sense of purpose settling between us. There was work to be done, but tonight… tonight was about possibilities.
After the whirlwind of introductions and celebratory fanfare, the evening began to settle into a more intimate flow. The group broke off into smaller conversations, the music and chatter filling the loft with an electric hum. Jonathan, ever the ringleader, was in his element, flitting between groups, making everyone feel like the center of attention.
I felt like I was floating—reconnecting with old friends, basking in the glow of new acquaintances, all of them acknowledging and affirming the woman I had become. My eyes sparkled as I sipped my champagne, exchanging stories and laughter with the crowd. I was thriving, surrounded by art, love, and a sense of belonging that seemed almost too perfect.
But just as I was being swept into yet another enthusiastic conversation about a possible collaboration, Kandy caught sight of Jonathan on the other side of the room, his arm draped across the back of a chair, speaking to a small group of people. Something about his posture, the way his eyes gleamed with excitement, sent a subtle knot forming in Kandy’s stomach.
Jonathan had just mentioned something about a get-together, a sort of farewell party before Kandy and I left New York. “We’re bringing everyone together,” she overheard him say with his signature charm, flashing a grin that could melt the iciest of personalities. “It’ll be the event of the season! No excuses, everyone’s coming.”
Kandy felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She knew that everyone in Jonathan’s world also meant people connected to her past—her ex’s sphere of influence. In a city like New York, circles overlapped, and it was only a matter of time before his name cropped up somewhere, especially given his penchant for showing up uninvited to high-profile events, just to assert his presence.
Jonathan, with all his good intentions and infectious enthusiasm, had no idea that the prospect of a big gathering was stirring old anxieties inside her. She forced a smile as she made her way to my side, trying to push the thought down, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of her otherwise joyful evening.
I noticed the subtle shift in Kandy’s demeanor—her energy had dipped just slightly, a brief flicker of something guarded in her eyes. “You okay?” I asked quietly, her voice warm but perceptive.
Kandy hesitated, glancing around the room once more, then back to me. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… a lot of people, a lot of energy.” She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She glanced back at Jonathan, who was still holding court across the room. “Jon’s planning some huge gathering, apparently. You know how he is, always going all out.”
I smiled, recognizing the truth in that statement. “Of course he is. It’s not a ‘Jon-a-thon’ if it’s anything less than over the top.”
Kandy’s smile was more strained. “Right. And with all the usual suspects.”
I caught the underlying tension in her voice this time, my brow furrowing. “You sure you’re okay with that? The party, I mean?”
Kandy sighed, her defenses dropping just a little in the safety of our friendship. “It’s just… you know. This city has ghosts. And some of those ghosts are people.” She didn’t say more, but I understood. Kandy had mentioned her ex before—just fragments of their past, bits of the pain he’d left in his wake. I hadn’t pushed for more; I’d waited for Kandy to open up in her own time.
But now it was starting to surface, uninvited.
“He might be there, right?” I asked softly.
Kandy nodded, biting her lip. “Knowing him? He’ll find a way to insert himself. He always does. He has this way of…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want him to ruin this for us.”
I touched her arm gently. “He won’t. We’ll not let him.”
Kandy exhaled slowly, grateful for my steady presence. “I just wish I could be as sure as you are.”
“We’ll deal with it if we have to,” I said, my voice firm. “But this? Tonight? This is for us. This is about our future, not his shadow.”
Kandy nodded, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, though the unease hadn’t fully left her eyes. “You’re right. Tonight is ours.”
But the seed of worry had been planted, and Kandy couldn’t shake the feeling that her past was inching closer, ready to collide with her present. She just wasn’t sure how or when. All she knew was that, despite her resolve, the idea of facing him—of letting him see how far she’d come, only to have him try and tear it down again—was a confrontation she wasn’t ready for.
As the night continued, Jonathan drifted back to our side, buzzing with ideas and plans for the future. “I’m serious, Karissa, Kandy—we’re doing this big. A reunion. We’re bringing everyone together. Old friends, new faces. Trust me, this’ll be legendary. We’re setting the stage for something huge.”
Kandy smiled, but her mind was already racing ahead to what that gathering might bring. Jonathan’s enthusiasm was infectious, but so was her growing sense of unease. She had built something beautiful with me and our little circle. She wasn’t ready to let the past crack its way into the foundation.
As Jonathan chatted away about guest lists and venues, Kandy caught my eye one more time. A silent exchange passed between us, my expression soft with understanding. Whatever was coming, we would face it together—but for Kandy, the idea of standing in the same room as her ex, with her newfound confidence and her still-healing heart, felt like a storm gathering just over the horizon.
And as the conversation around us shifted to what the next few days would hold, Kandy resolved to steel herself. The party was happening. The past was circling. And she would be ready—or at least, she’d try.
Chapter 73: The Jon-A-Thon
The crisp fall air of Manhattan had a bite to it, but it couldn’t dim the sense of renewal coursing through me as Kandy and I strolled down Fifth Avenue. Our trip was winding down, the days a blur of meetings, memories, and laughter set against the iconic New York backdrop. The skyline stretched endlessly above, casting long shadows as the sun dipped low, turning the streets gold in a way only New York could.
It had been a whirlwind week. We’d shopped in SoHo, browsed boutiques along Madison Avenue, and even taken a detour to the West Village for a slice of pizza from Joe’s—a quick stop I insisted on for old time’s sake, reminding Kandy with a grin that I was once a local here. Every step felt significant, a reminder of who I used to be and the woman I’d become. No longer Kai, no longer a figure hiding from her truth, but Karissa—a woman ready to reclaim her space in the world.
Today, though, felt different. Our time in New York was drawing to a close, and with it came a deep, almost somber realization that this chapter, as exhilarating and transformative as it had been, was about to end. As we moved through Bergdorf’s in our final splurge of the day, slipping on designer shoes and running our fingers across velvet and silk, I caught Kandy glancing at me, an unreadable expression in her eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked, turning away from a shimmering gown on the rack.
“Yeah,” Kandy said quickly, but her eyes darted away. “Just… thinking about how fast this all went. It feels like we just got here, but now we’re about to leave.”
I smiled softly. “I know. It’s always like that in New York. The days disappear before you even realize what’s happening.” I paused, my mind briefly flashing to Cade. “I’ve been meaning to tell you—Dad’s doing really well. I spoke with him yesterday, and Cade… well, he’s anxious to have me back.”
Kandy grinned, her mood lightening. “Of course he is. You’ve been gone longer than either of them are used to.”
“Yeah,” I replied, my voice soft. “It feels good to be needed, but… I needed this trip. I think we both did.”
We paid for our purchases and made our way back to the hotel, arms laden with bags, our laughter trailing behind us like whispers of all the untold possibilities ahead. I’d let my hair down in more ways than one on this trip—I’d let myself breathe, allowed myself to be seen, even embraced. And finally I didn’t feel like I was looking over my shoulder.
Back in the suite, we spent hours getting ready for our last night in New York. The Jon-a-thon—Jonathan’s inevitable, unapologetically over-the-top sendoff party—was going to be nothing short of legendary. Jonathan had made sure of it. “Everyone will be there,” he’d said with a dramatic flourish, “and I mean everyone.”
I could hear his voice in my head as I slipped on the form-fitting red dress I’d found earlier, a simple but stunning piece that hugged my new curves in all the right ways. I straightened my hair and adopted a more suitably New York style for the evening. I turned to the mirror, surveying myself, and with a sense of deep gratitude and excitement I felt right in my skin. There was no more hiding, no more trying to fit into a mold that was never mine to begin with. I was Karissa. Fully. Completely.
Across the room, Kandy was adjusting her lipstick, though her eyes kept shifting toward her phone on the bed. Her movements were precise but mechanical, like she was trying to distract herself from something heavier.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again, stepping beside her.
Kandy exhaled slowly, setting the lipstick down. “Yeah, it’s just… Jonathan’s parties always bring out everyone. I’m excited to see people, but…”
I didn’t need her to finish the sentence. I knew who Kandy was really worried about. “Do you think he’ll show up?”
Kandy shook her head quickly. “I don’t know. It’s possible. He knows Jonathan, and Jonathan… well, he doesn’t know the whole history. He wouldn’t think twice about inviting him.”
We had talked about Kandy’s ex, but only in fragments—enough for me to know he was a manipulative, narcissistic figure who had held too much power over Kandy’s life for too long. The kind of man who made you question your worth just by existing in the same room. I could sense the unresolved fear still lurking in the corners of Kandy’s mind.
“If he shows up,” I said softly, “we’ll deal with him. Together.”
Kandy nodded, her jaw tight. “I’m just not sure I’m ready for that.”
The Jon-a-thon was everything Jonathan had promised and more. Held at a lavish loft in the Meatpacking District, the party buzzed with life—fashionable guests, flowing champagne, and music that seemed to vibrate through the walls. As Kandy and I entered the space, we were greeted with a chorus of cheers and applause. Jonathan, of course, was at the center of it all, flashing that thousand-watt smile, waving us over like the stars of the night.
“Kandy! Karissa! My god, look at you two,” Jonathan gushed, pulling us both into an embrace. “Absolutely stunning. You’re stealing the show already.”
The night unfolded in a blur of introductions, laughter, and endless conversations. I found myself meeting people I never imagined I’d encounter—producers, directors, old friends from Jonathan’s art world, all eager to celebrate the women Kandy and I had become. It felt like the perfect send-off, a night where we could step fully into our futures.
But as the night wore on, I noticed Kandy’s energy shift. Her posture stiffened, her smile became strained, and her eyes kept flicking toward the entrance.
That’s when I saw him.
He was standing just inside the doorway, casually leaning against the wall as if he belonged there. Kandy’s ex. His eyes locked onto Kandy almost immediately, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He didn’t need to make a scene. His presence alone was enough to rattle her.
Kandy froze, her breath catching in her throat. I stepped closer, my protective instincts kicking in. “Do you want to leave?” I whispered.
Kandy shook her head, but her voice was shaky. “No. I don’t want him to win. Not like this.”
I squared my shoulders, my eyes narrowing as I looked at the man across the room. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but the way he watched Kandy sent chills through me. This was his game—control, manipulation without even having to lift a finger.
Not tonight.
With a calm, steady hand, I took Kandy’s arm. “Come on,” I said firmly. “Let’s go get some air.”
We turned toward the exit, but not before I made sure our path took us right past him. As we approached, the ex straightened, his smirk deepening, clearly ready to say something—something cutting, something that would put Kandy back in her place. But before he could speak, I locked eyes with him. My voice, though soft, carried an unmistakable weight.
“Kandy isn’t alone. And she’s not the person you knew anymore.”
The ex blinked, momentarily taken aback by my directness. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips as I guided Kandy past him and out onto the rooftop terrace.
The cool night air hit our faces, and Kandy’s tense shoulders finally relaxed. She exhaled shakily, her hand clutching my arm for support.
“I thought I’d never escape him,” Kandy whispered. “Even after all this time… he still gets to me.”
I turned to face her, placing both hands on Kandy’s shoulders. “You’re stronger than him. You’ve already escaped. And you have people who love you—people who will always stand by you.”
Kandy’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled—a real, genuine smile. “Thank you. For being there.”
“You’ve always been there for me,” I said softly. “Now it’s my turn.”
As we stood together under the glowing city lights, the noise of the party fading behind us, Kandy knew that this was her moment of release. The past had tried to claw its way back, but she wasn’t the same woman anymore. Neither of us were.
Chapter 72: Back in the Heart of Texas
The Texas humidity hit me the moment I stepped out of the airport, a heavy embrace I both loved and dreaded. Houston was nothing like New York—the air here clung to you, and everything felt slower, more deliberate. But despite the heat pressing in, the moment my feet touched the pavement, I couldn’t help but smile. Home. After everything in New York, I never thought I’d be so happy to be back.
Kandy stood beside me, her eyes scanning the familiar skyline of Houston. She smiled too, but there was something behind it—something deeper. We had come back with a mission, a purpose, and the weight of it hung between us, exciting but also daunting.
The cab ride back to our apartment felt surreal. Everything was the same, but I was different. The trip to New York had shifted me in ways I hadn’t expected. I’d left the city I used to call home all those years ago as Kevin and returned as Karissa, fully and finally myself. And now, stepping back into Houston as Karissa, it felt like I was reclaiming my life, my identity, my future.
I glanced over at Kandy, who was lost in thought as she watched the city roll by outside the window. We didn’t need to say anything. The connection between us had grown stronger during the trip, a silent understanding. We both knew that what we’d started in New York—the plans, the vision—would change everything for us. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a strange calmness. We were ready.
When we finally pulled up to my apartment, I spotted Cade waiting at the door, looking every bit as grounding as I had imagined. My heart swelled just seeing him there—steady, warm, familiar. He’d been my anchor through all of this, through the highs and lows, the transformations and the doubts. Now, after everything, seeing him in person again was almost overwhelming.
I barely made it out of the cab before Cade wrapped me in his arms. His scent—a mix of cedarwood and that comforting, unmistakable warmth—washed over me, and I melted into him. For a moment, it was just us. No New York, no plans, no future dreams. Just Cade and me. Right here. Right now.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered into my hair, his voice low and full of emotion.
I pulled back just enough to look up at him, smiling through the knot of feelings in my chest. “I missed you too. There’s so much to tell you.”
Cade’s eyes softened, and he kissed my forehead. “I want to hear it all.”
As we stood there, locked in our own little world, I felt his gaze linger on me, taking me in. His eyes were filled with something more than just affection—there was pride, admiration. I’d told him about the trip, about everything I’d been through, but I don’t think he fully realized until now how much had changed.
“You look… amazing,” he said, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. “I mean, you’ve always been beautiful, but… there’s something different. I can’t explain it.”
“I feel different,” I said simply. And I did. It wasn’t just the physical changes, though they were there. No, it was deeper than that. I felt… whole. For the first time in my life, I felt like me.
“You should be proud,” Cade said, his eyes never leaving mine. “I know I am.”
I felt my throat tighten as I leaned up to kiss him, letting the moment sink in. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, but being here with him, back in Houston, made me realize just how far I’d come—and how much further I wanted to go.
Later that night, after the reunion had settled and Kandy had retreated to her own place, Cade and I sat in our apartment, sprawled out on the couch like we always did. It felt like no time had passed at all, but also like everything was new. I filled him in on the details of the trip—Jonathan’s deal, the production company Kandy and I were planning, and all the dreams that had taken root in New York. Cade listened, nodding along, always the calm listener, but I could tell how excited he was by the way he held me closer with every word.
“That’s incredible,” he said when I finally paused to take a breath. “You’re really doing it, Karissa. You and Kandy… you’re going to change things.”
“I know.” I smiled. “It feels real now. Like we’re not just talking about it. We’re doing it. For real.”
“And I’m with you,” he said softly, his hand resting on my thigh, grounding me. “Whatever you need.”
I leaned into him, letting the weight of his words settle over me. Cade had always been there for me, but now, after everything that had happened, it felt different. More permanent, more certain. Like we were on this path together.
The next morning, Kandy and I were back at it, notebooks and laptops strewn across my kitchen table. The dream we’d only talked about in New York was now our reality. A media production company. A space where we could produce our own material, train people in the community, and represent trans and LGBTQIA+ talent. It felt monumental, but it also felt right.
Kandy was already deep into her planning mode, organizing the details, talking about potential collaborators, and making lists. She was good at that—bringing order to the chaos. And as I watched her work, I realized how lucky I was to have her by my side in this. We were different, but together we balanced each other out.
“We can start by securing space,” Kandy said, scrolling through her notes. “And training programs—hair, makeup, wardrobe. You know how important that is. Especially for people like us. We need to make it accessible and sustainable.”
I nodded, my mind already spinning with possibilities. “I made some great connections in New York. We can start there—reach out to people who want to be involved. And Jonathan is on board with whatever we need.”
Kandy smiled. “It’s all coming together, Karissa. This is real.”
Later that week, back at the salon, the energy was different. Mrs. H greeted us with open arms, her smile wide and welcoming as we walked in.
“Well, look who’s back from the big city,” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. “You two look like you’ve seen the world.”
“We kinda did,” I said, laughing as I pulled back.
Mrs. H led us into the breakroom, where we sat down with coffee, the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. It didn’t take long before Kandy and I were deep into explaining our plans—the production company, the representation agency, everything. Mrs. H listened intently, nodding along, her eyes widening with every detail.
When we finished, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “I always knew you two were going to do something big,” she said, pride filling her voice. “And you know I’ll support you in any way I can.”
I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. Mrs. H had always been more than just a boss—she was family. And knowing that she was behind us made everything feel more possible.
As we continued to talk, Marie, one of the other stylists, popped her head into the room, grinning. “I overheard a little bit of that… and I’m in,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “Whatever you need, count me in.”
The salon, once just a place where we worked, was quickly becoming the heart of our new venture. It felt right—starting here, with the people who had supported us from the beginning.
By the end of the week, things were moving faster than I could have ever anticipated. Meetings were being set up, introductions were made, and soon enough we were sitting down with potential collaborators. The vision was clearer than ever. We weren’t just dreaming anymore—we were building. And it felt unstoppable.
There was a renewed sense of purpose in everything we did now. Every conversation, every decision, every new connection felt like another step toward making this dream a reality. And with Cade’s steady support, Kandy’s organizational skills, and Jonathan’s enthusiasm pushing us forward, it felt like nothing could stand in our way.
Houston was home again, but it wasn’t the same. The energy had shifted. We had shifted. This city was going to be the foundation of something bigger, something that felt authentically ours.
Chapter 73: The Spark of a Revolution
I’ll never forget the energy buzzing around the production office that first week. Everything felt electric—like we were sitting on the edge of something massive. Kandy and I had just returned from New York, still riding the high from that trip, and somehow, the momentum hadn’t slowed. In fact, it had only picked up. We had a handful of meetings lined up, some with new collaborators we’d met in the city, and others with local talent in Texas. And the buzz—thanks to our publicist—was just beginning.
It was hard not to feel optimistic as I sat in our rented production space in Houston, sipping on a too-hot cup of coffee and watching Kandy from across the room. She was already deep in conversation with our assistant director, scrolling through shot lists and storyboards, making notes in her methodical way. I admired her for it, the way she could stay so grounded and focused, even when everything else seemed like chaos.
“Hey,” Kandy called over, not looking up from her work. “Did you go over the location permits for next week? They still haven’t confirmed the site for the Texas exteriors.”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah, just waiting on final approval from the city. They’ve been slow, but they’ll come through.”
“Better hope so,” she muttered, clicking her pen furiously against the clipboard.
I knew she wasn’t really worried. Kandy always had things under control, even when it seemed like she didn’t. If anything, her way of managing stress was to stay in constant motion, always moving pieces into place before anyone else could see what was coming next.
But I could sense something else—something more than just the usual production chaos. It was an excitement that bubbled beneath the surface, a feeling that we were on the verge of something big.
The phone on my desk buzzed, shaking me from my thoughts. It was our publicist, Ella, calling in from her office in Austin.
“Hey, Ella,” I said, picking up. “What’s the good word?”
Ella’s voice crackled through the speaker, full of energy. “Karissa, you will not believe the traction we’re getting. I’ve been working my contacts, and we’ve got local press interested in doing a full feature on the production. They want to focus on the community-building aspect—jobs, training, all that good stuff. People are really loving the idea of a homegrown Texas production making waves in the industry.”
I smiled. That was exactly what we wanted. This project wasn’t just about making a film; it was about creating opportunities, especially for LGBTQIA+ folks like us, who didn’t always get a fair shot in the industry. We were doing something bigger than ourselves, and the world was starting to notice.
“That’s amazing,” I said. “Anything we need to prepare for? Press junkets, interviews?”
Ella laughed. “Slow down, superstar. I’m still working out the details, but yeah, you should be ready for some interviews soon. Local TV, maybe a podcast or two. And Kandy should definitely get in on this. People are going to want to hear her story too.”
I glanced over at Kandy, who was now hunched over the production schedule, her brow furrowed in concentration. “She’s not much of a talker, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Ella chuckled. “She doesn’t have to talk a lot—just enough to give people a sense of who you both are. Trust me, people are going to eat it up.”
We wrapped up the call, and I felt a warmth settle in my chest. It was all coming together. The months of planning, the late-night strategy sessions, the constant hustle—it was paying off. And with Ella’s magic touch, we were getting the visibility we needed to turn this into something even bigger than we’d imagined.
Kandy walked over just as I was hanging up, raising an eyebrow as she perched on the edge of my desk. “Ella?”
“Yep,” I said. “She’s got local press interested. Looks like we’ll be doing some interviews soon.”
Kandy groaned. “Ugh, interviews. You know I hate those.”
“I know,” I said with a smile. “But people need to hear from you. They need to see the woman behind the curtain, the one who’s keeping all the moving pieces together.”
She shook her head, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not sure they want to hear about my color-coded spreadsheets and to-do lists.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” I said. “People love a good story about organization. You’d be like the Marie Kondo of production.”
Kandy laughed, and the sound of it was infectious. It was moments like this that made everything feel worth it. We weren’t just business partners—we were friends, building something together that mattered.
“Alright, alright,” Kandy said, standing up and stretching. “I’ll do it. But only because you’ll owe me big time after.”
“Deal,” I said, grinning.
For the next few hours, we settled into the rhythm of the workday—calls, emails, production notes, the usual chaos of pre-production. It was a grind, but one I was used to, one that felt like second nature now.
Then, right before lunch, I got another call. This time, it wasn’t Ella. It was Jonathan in New York.
“Karissa!” His voice boomed through the phone, all confidence and charisma. “How’s my favorite Texas duo?”
“Hey, Jonathan,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We’re doing great. What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that conversation we had in New York. About expanding the production. We’re approved to scout potential Texas exteriors for the shoot. You know the area, and I was thinking—it’s time for you and Kandy to help me pull this together.”
I glanced over at Kandy, who was now in the corner of the room, chatting with our set designer about fabric choices. My heart raced a little. Jonathan was offering us an opportunity. But before I could respond, I had an idea.
“Actually, Jonathan,” I said slowly, “what if you filmed more than just the exteriors here in Texas? What if you split production between here and Silvercup Studios in New York? You’d still get your interiors shot in a professional studio, but you could do the exteriors and a lot of the supplemental scenes here. We’ve got amazing locations—cheaper, too—and with the local talent and crew, you could stretch your budget a lot further.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I worried I’d overstepped. But then Jonathan let out a low whistle.
“Damn, Karissa,” he said. “You might just be onto something. Let me think this through with my team.”
I held my breath, feeling the anticipation build.
“You know what?” Jonathan continued after a few beats. “You’re right. It makes perfect sense. Let’s talk logistics. I think we can make this work if you and Kandy are on board. Hell, if you can make this happen, I’ll bring on as much Texas crew and talent as possible. We’ll make this a real partnership.”
A rush of excitement surged through me. It wasn’t just about this one project anymore—it was about building something bigger, something sustainable. And Jonathan was willing to take a chance on us. On me. On Kandy.
“That sounds amazing,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re in.”
Jonathan laughed. “Good. Let’s move fast on this. We’ve got a tight window, and if we can nail down the details quickly, we’ll be rolling before you know it. I’ll loop you in on the specifics later today.”
As the call ended, I sat there for a moment, letting it all sink in. This was real. This was happening.
I looked over at Kandy, who was now flipping through fabric samples, completely unaware of the bombshell I was about to drop on her.
“Kandy,” I called, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. “We need to talk.”
She turned, raising an eyebrow. “What is it now? More interviews?”
“No,” I said, standing up. “Something better. Way better.”
She crossed the room, curiosity written all over her face. “What did you do?”
I grinned. “I may have just secured us our next big production.”
Kandy’s eyes widened. “What? How?”
I explained everything—Jonathan’s call, the idea to split production between Texas and New York, the opportunity to bring in more local talent, and the chance to work together on something even bigger than we’d planned.
By the time I was done, Kandy’s usual calm demeanor had been replaced with something else—excitement. Pure, unfiltered excitement.
“This is huge,” she said, pacing back and forth. “I mean, we’ll have to move fast, but… we can do this. We can actually do this.”
I nodded, feeling the same rush of energy coursing through me. It wasn’t going to be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was.
“Let’s make some magic,” I said, holding out my hand.
Kandy smiled, taking it. “Let’s do it.”
As we stood there, the weight of what we were about to take on slowly started to sink in. This wasn’t just another job. This was our opportunity to show the world what we were capable of, to prove that two women from vastly different backgrounds could not only succeed in this industry but make a real impact while doing it.
The rest of the day moved in a blur. Kandy dove headfirst into logistics, her brain working at warp speed as she started outlining the new production schedule and drawing up budgets for splitting the shoot between Texas and New York. Meanwhile, I handled calls—our DP, location scouts, even our caterer. Every piece had to fit just right, and the pressure mounted with each minute that ticked by.
Still, despite the intensity, there was something thrilling about it all. This wasn’t chaos—it was creation. We were birthing something new, something that reflected us, and I could feel the magic of it pulsing through every interaction.
By the time the day ended, Kandy and I were sitting on the floor of the production office, eating takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the street and going over the final notes of the day. Her hair was disheveled, and I’m sure I didn’t look much better, but there was a satisfaction in the exhaustion that couldn’t be denied.
“Okay,” Kandy said, pushing her empty takeout container aside. “So we’re officially good to go. I emailed Jonathan the revised budget and production plan. Now we just need his final sign-off, but I’m pretty sure we’re all systems go.”
“God, I can’t believe we pulled that off in one day,” I said, leaning my head back against the wall. “You’re a miracle worker.”
Kandy smirked. “It’s not miracles. It’s just planning and execution.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s you. We wouldn’t be here without you, Kandy. I hope you know that.”
She waved me off, but I could see the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “It’s not just me. We’re a team.”
“Still,” I said, grabbing my drink. “I’m lucky to have you.”
She looked over at me, her eyes soft. “Likewise.”
We sat there for a while, the quiet of the night settling in around us. The adrenaline was wearing off, and with it came the weight of everything that still lay ahead. This project was big—bigger than anything we’d done before—and it wasn’t just about us anymore. There were so many people depending on us to get this right.
“What if it all goes wrong?” I asked, the thought slipping out before I could stop it. “I mean, what if this is too big, and we’re not ready?”
Kandy turned to me, her expression steady. “Karissa, we’ve been through worse. Remember how we started? Just two girls with a crazy idea and a couple of favors we cashed in. We built this from nothing, and now we’re here, about to pull off something massive. We didn’t get this far by playing it safe. If anyone can do this, it’s us.”
Her words settled the anxiety that had been gnawing at me. She was right. We’d taken risks before, and somehow, we’d always come out stronger on the other side. This was just another challenge—albeit a much bigger one—but we could handle it.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “We’ve got this.”
The next few days flew by in a whirlwind of meetings, phone calls, and planning sessions. Jonathan had given the official green light, and we were full steam ahead. The local press had picked up on the buzz around our production, and Ella had arranged a few interviews for us. As much as Kandy hated the spotlight, she agreed to do them. We needed all the positive publicity we could get.
But with the growing attention came something we hadn’t anticipated.
I was sitting in the production office, finishing up some paperwork when Kandy stormed in, her face flushed with anger. She was clutching her phone in one hand, her eyes blazing.
“Kandy?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t say anything at first, just tossed her phone onto the desk in front of me. I glanced down at the screen and felt a wave of nausea roll through me.
It was a news article. Not just any article—one from a conservative, religious publication. And it wasn’t just about the production. It was about us. About me. About the fact that we were two women—two openly queer women—leading a major film production in Texas.
The headline was scathing: “Hollywood Agenda Comes to Texas: Radical LGBTQ Filmmakers Push Liberal Values in the Heart of Conservative Country.”
“They’re attacking us,” Kandy said, her voice shaking with barely-contained fury. “They’re calling us a threat to ‘traditional family values.’ This article is making the rounds online, and the comment section… God, Karissa, you don’t even want to look at the comments.”
I felt my stomach drop. This was the kind of thing we’d hoped to avoid. The kind of backlash we knew might come but had hoped wouldn’t materialize—at least not this early.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, my mind racing.
Kandy crossed her arms, pacing the room. “We keep going. We don’t let this bullshit stop us. They’re scared because they see us doing something they never thought possible. They’re trying to derail us, but we’re not backing down.”
I nodded, but the fear still gnawed at me. I’d always known that being who I was—being out, being unapologetic about my identity—would make me a target for some people. But knowing it and facing it head-on were two different things.
“We’ll need to prepare,” I said, my voice firmer now. “If this keeps escalating, it could get dangerous. We need to make sure the cast and crew are safe, that we’re safe. I’m not going to risk anyone’s life over this.”
Kandy stopped pacing, her eyes meeting mine. “You’re right. I’ll talk to security, and we’ll start putting measures in place. But Karissa, we can’t let them scare us. That’s exactly what they want.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady the swirl of emotions inside me. Anger, fear, determination—they all fought for dominance, but Kandy was right. We couldn’t back down. Not now.
“I know,” I said. “We won’t.”
That night, as I lay in bed, my mind wouldn’t stop racing. The article, the comments, the potential dangers ahead—they all swirled together, threatening to overwhelm me. But beneath it all, there was a fire—a fire that had been kindled long before I’d ever set foot on this project.
This was more than just a film. This was about representation, about standing up for who we were, and about creating space for others like us. If we let fear win, we’d be letting down everyone who looked up to us, who saw themselves in our work, in our fight.
We couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let that happen.
The next day, I called Ella and told her we were moving forward with the press campaign as planned. But this time, we were going to lean into it. We weren’t just going to defend ourselves—we were going to take control of the narrative. If they wanted a fight, we’d give them one. But we’d win it on our terms.
The next morning, I woke up to the sunlight filtering through my bedroom window, but instead of feeling refreshed, the weight of the situation immediately hit me. The article and the hateful comments were still on my mind, like a heavy stone in my chest. As I pulled myself out of bed, I realized there was no way around it. We had a battle ahead, but we weren’t going to let it stop us. I was determined to take control of the narrative, just as I had decided the night before.
Kandy was already awake when I reached the kitchen. She had her laptop open on the counter, her face set in hard lines as she scrolled through her email. The familiar clinking of her spoon in her coffee mug was the only sound that filled the air.
“How bad is it?” I asked, not needing to specify what I was talking about.
She didn’t look up, but her jaw clenched. “More outlets are picking it up. The article’s spreading. And there’s already been some talk on local radio shows. The usual suspects.”
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Of course. It’s exactly what we expected, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said, finally closing the laptop with a sharp snap. “But we’re not backing down. I already reached out to Ella, and she’s got a plan for controlling the press. She’s even suggested getting some key influencers in the LGBTQIA+ community involved to back us up.”
I nodded, grateful for her quick thinking. “Good. We’ll need them. If we’re going to weather this storm, we need to make sure we have as many voices on our side as possible.”
Kandy leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, staring at me for a moment. “You doing okay?”
I shrugged, not really sure how to answer that. “I’m… processing. It’s a lot. But we’ll get through it.”
She gave me a small, encouraging smile. “We always do.”
A soft knock at the front door interrupted our conversation, and Kandy glanced over at me with raised eyebrows.
“Are you expecting anyone?” she asked.
“No.”
I walked to the door and opened it to find Cade standing on the other side, looking concerned. He held a brown paper bag in his hands, and the smell of freshly baked pastries wafted into the air.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I figured you two could use some breakfast.”
My heart warmed at the sight of him, and I smiled despite everything. “You’re the best.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, stepping inside. “How’re you holding up?”
“We’re dealing with it,” I replied, waving him over to the kitchen table. “But thanks for this. We definitely needed it.”
Kandy helped me set the food out on the table while Cade poured coffee, the three of us falling into a quiet routine. But beneath the mundane motions, there was a tension hanging in the air. We all knew things were escalating.
“So, I heard about the article,” Cade said, breaking the silence. “My brother texted me about it this morning. Apparently, it’s making the rounds in more conservative circles.”
I groaned, leaning my head on my hand. “Great. Just what we needed.”
“It’s not all bad news,” Cade continued. “There’s already some pushback happening. A couple of local advocacy groups are rallying around you two. One of them even put out a statement condemning the hate speech in the comments section of the article.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “That’s fast.”
“Yeah,” he said, taking a bite of his croissant. “And I’m not surprised. You two are doing something important. People see that.”
Kandy nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “We need to keep that momentum going. We can’t let them control the story. If we keep getting positive press and rallying people around the cause, their hate won’t be the dominant narrative.”
Cade nodded. “I agree. I also think you need to prepare for more pushback—this might just be the beginning.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, I know. But we’re not stopping. If anything, this is just going to motivate us even more.”
The three of us ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, but my mind was already racing with ideas. We needed to strategize, to make sure that our response was measured but impactful. I wasn’t going to let these people dictate how we were seen or what we stood for.
After breakfast, Cade stayed to help us work out the next steps. We spent hours talking through our options, figuring out how to navigate the sudden backlash while staying true to our vision. I felt lucky to have Cade by my side—his level-headedness helped balance the fire that sometimes overtook me and Kandy when we were both feeling overwhelmed.
The next week was a whirlwind. Ella went into overdrive, setting up interviews with LGBTQIA+ media outlets, and some of the more progressive local news stations started to pick up our side of the story. We had supportive statements coming in from advocacy groups, local politicians, and even a few high-profile LGBTQIA+ celebrities who’d heard about our work and wanted to lend their voices to the cause.
But with the attention came more backlash.
One morning, as Kandy and I were sitting down to go over the updated production schedule, my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen and saw an alert from our social media manager. A local religious leader had posted a video calling us out by name, claiming that our production was part of some insidious Hollywood agenda to corrupt traditional family values in Texas.
I watched the video with a tight feeling in my chest. The man in the video was slick and polished, his voice smooth as he spouted hateful rhetoric. But what really struck me were the comments—hundreds of them, filled with venom and vitriol, all aimed at us.
“They’re getting louder,” I said, putting my phone down.
Kandy’s eyes narrowed. “Let them. We’ll get louder, too.”
As much as I tried to stay calm, it was hard not to feel the weight of it all. The attacks weren’t just personal—they were aimed at our entire community. I knew we needed to address it head-on, but I also knew we needed to be smart about it.
“We need to protect ourselves,” I said, turning to Kandy. “Not just from the press, but from… other threats. If these people are riling up their base, who knows what could happen?”
Kandy nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’ll talk to security. We should get someone full-time, at least while we’re in production.”
I hesitated before speaking again. “I think we should also offer self-defense training to the crew and anyone else who wants it. I don’t want anyone walking around here feeling unsafe.”
Kandy blinked, then nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea. I’ll look into local trainers. Maybe we can make it part of the community outreach we’re already doing.”
The plan was starting to take shape in my mind. We couldn’t just react to the hate—we had to use it as fuel to empower ourselves and our team. If people were going to come after us, we’d be ready. And more than that, we’d make sure that our production became a safe space for everyone involved.
Over the next few days, we began rolling out the self-defense workshops. I reached out to a few local LGBTQIA+ community centers, and they were more than happy to help us organize classes for our cast and crew. The response was overwhelmingly positive—people felt safer knowing we were taking steps to protect ourselves and each other.
We also worked with Ella to put together a statement addressing the attacks. Instead of just defending ourselves, we framed it as a message of unity and empowerment. We highlighted the positive impact our production was having on the local economy, the jobs we were creating, and the opportunities we were providing for underrepresented voices in the industry.
It wasn’t long before the media started shifting its focus. The more they saw us fighting back, the more they realized that we weren’t just some small indie production—they saw the bigger picture. Our project became a symbol of resistance against the hate, and with that came even more support.
As we continued to build momentum, the hate from the Christian right grew quieter. Their voices, once loud and menacing, were drowned out by the overwhelming support we were receiving from the community.
It wasn’t easy. Every day brought new challenges, new obstacles to overcome. But we were stronger for it. And through it all, I could feel something shifting—not just in our production, but in the world around us.
We were making a difference. And we weren’t going to stop.
As I stood in the production office one evening, watching the sun set over the Houston skyline, I felt a deep sense of pride. We had faced the storm and come out on the other side, more determined than ever to keep pushing forward.
Kandy came up beside me, her gaze following mine out the window. “You think we’ll ever catch a break?”
I laughed softly. “Probably not. But that’s okay. We’re built for this.”
She grinned, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Yeah. We are.”
Chapter 74: Backlash Begins
The morning after the article hit, I lay in bed with my phone clutched in my hands. My thumb hovered over the news app icon, debating whether I should click and see how bad things had gotten overnight. Cade was still asleep next to me, his arm draped across my stomach, grounding me like a heavy blanket.
I finally gave in. My chest tightened as I opened the app and saw the flood of notifications.
Headlines from local conservative outlets were already cropping up: “Local Film Production Promotes LGBTQIA+ Agenda in Houston” and “Christian Leaders Denounce Filmmakers Bringing Sin to Our Streets.”
My stomach churned as I scrolled through the articles. Some were full of fiery rhetoric, warning about the dangers of “radicalized values” being forced upon Texans. A couple of paragraphs even took personal shots at me and Kandy, painting us as outsiders trying to corrupt the “wholesome” community.
“How did they find out so fast?” I whispered under my breath. I had barely come to terms with our production making a splash locally, but this backlash had blindsided me.
I glanced at Cade, still peacefully unaware, and decided I needed some air before I woke him up with the bad news. Slipping out of bed, I threw on one of his oversized shirts and padded down the hall to the kitchen. The coffee maker hummed to life as I stared out the window, the early morning light casting long shadows across the yard.
Kandy had texted me before sunrise: “Call me as soon as you’re up. It’s bad, babe.”
My phone buzzed again with a string of messages. Kandy was already up and spiraling, and I knew I needed to talk her down before the day started spiraling out of control.
I called her as soon as the coffee had filled the pot.
“Kandy, it’s Karissa. I’m up. What happened?”
“Oh, girl,” Kandy’s voice came through tight, like she had been crying. “It’s all over the place. Conservative Christian groups in Texas have already latched onto our production. There’s talk of protests. I didn’t expect this kind of hate, not so soon.”
My pulse quickened. “Wait, protests?”
“Yeah.” Her voice wavered, and I could hear her pacing. “They’re talking about gathering outside our shoot locations. They’re saying we’re pushing an ‘agenda.’” She emphasized the word with venom. “I mean, how can they be so ignorant? We’re offering jobs to locals, training, opportunities. And they’re making it out like we’re here to destroy their community.”
The weight of her words sunk in. I leaned against the counter, trying to stay calm for both of us. “It’s not true, and we know that,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But this is Texas, Kandy. You and I both knew there could be pushback. We just didn’t think it’d come this fast.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I guess I was just naive to think we could fly under the radar until we had something solid to show for it.”
“Well, flying under the radar is no longer an option,” I replied, pacing the kitchen. “We need a plan.”
“I’ve already been talking to Ella,” Kandy said. “She thinks we need to get ahead of this. We can’t sit back and let these groups paint us as villains. We have to show the community what we’re actually doing—emphasize the jobs we’re creating, the opportunities for local artists, the economic boost.”
“Ella’s right,” I agreed. “We need to get our story out there before theirs takes over.”
There was a pause before Kandy spoke again, her voice softer, almost unsure. “But Karissa… I’m scared. These people—what if it escalates? What if it becomes more than just words?”
I exhaled slowly, the fear creeping into my chest too. “I know, Kandy. I’m scared too. But we’re not in this alone. Cade’s been telling me for weeks that we need to be prepared for this kind of resistance. He even suggested self-defense classes for the crew.”
There was a silence on the other end, and I wondered if she was processing my words.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” she finally said, her voice more grounded. “With everything going on, we need to make sure everyone feels safe. It’s not just about the work anymore. It’s about protecting our people.”
I felt a spark of determination ignite in my chest. “Exactly. And we’re going to turn this into something positive. We’ll make sure everyone on our team feels supported—physically, emotionally, the whole nine yards. We’ll show the world that we’re stronger than the hate.”
Kandy let out a breath, and I could almost hear her resolve solidifying. “Alright, let’s do it. I’ll talk to Ella about setting up a media strategy. And we’ll get in touch with local LGBTQIA+ groups to help rally support. We’re not going down without a fight.”
“Damn right, we’re not,” I said with a grin, despite the tension still in my chest.
As we wrapped up the call, I noticed Cade standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, watching me with a mix of concern and admiration. He must have overheard my side of the conversation because his first words were, “You alright?”
I nodded and let out a long breath. “Yeah, just… dealing with the fallout.”
He walked over, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, you know that?” he whispered.
I leaned into him, grateful for the grounding energy he always seemed to bring. “I don’t feel very brave right now,” I admitted.
He kissed the top of my head. “That’s because you’re not running from it. You’re standing your ground. And that takes more courage than you realize.”
I turned in his arms to face him, pressing my forehead against his chest. “You’re my rock, you know that?”
“And I always will be,” he said, holding me tighter. “We’re in this together, Karissa. You, me, Kandy—hell, the whole damn crew. We’ve got your back.”
I let myself exhale fully, finally catching my breath. Maybe we couldn’t control the hate coming our way, but I was damn sure we weren’t going to let it break us.
Chapter 75: Rallying Allies
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Kandy and I had gathered with Ella at a local café to discuss our next moves. The air was thick with tension, but there was also a fire in each of us—a determination that had grown stronger in the face of adversity.
Ella was already on her laptop when we arrived, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She looked up, her eyes sharp and focused. “Okay, ladies, here’s the deal. We’ve got some local news outlets willing to hear our side of the story, but we need to be strategic. We’re not going to stoop to their level and engage with the hate. We’re going to talk about the work—the opportunities, the economic benefits, the community building.”
I nodded, already thinking about how we could frame this. “We need to highlight the people we’re helping,” I said. “The ones who are getting jobs, training, support. Let’s show the human side of this project. This isn’t just about us—it’s about the whole community.”
“Exactly,” Ella agreed, pulling up some of her notes. “And I’ve already reached out to some local LGBTQIA+ advocacy groups. They’re on board to help us with public statements and rallying support. We’re going to turn this into something positive.”
Kandy sat back, sipping her coffee with a thoughtful expression. “What about the self-defense classes we talked about? I think it’d be powerful if we made that part of our response too. It’s not just about words—it’s about action. We’re not going to let anyone feel unsafe on our watch.”
I glanced at her, pride swelling in my chest. “That’s a brilliant idea. It sends a strong message—especially to our crew. We’re not just talking the talk.”
Ella grinned. “I love it. We’ll make that part of our next public statement. ‘Standing strong, standing together.’”
As we laid out the details of our media strategy, I could feel the tide shifting. The fear and uncertainty that had gripped us earlier were being replaced with purpose. We were going to turn this around. We were going to show them who we were—and we were going to do it with dignity, strength, and love.
Chapter 76: Making Waves
As we finished mapping out our media strategy with Ella, the café buzzed with quiet conversation around us. It seemed almost surreal that while we were planning how to fight back against hate, the world outside continued at its usual pace. People were sipping lattes, scrolling through their phones, and going about their day as if nothing had changed. But for us, everything had shifted.
Ella took a sip of her tea, her eyes scanning her phone as a notification popped up. “Looks like one of the local news stations is already running a segment on us,” she said, flipping the screen toward us.
Kandy and I leaned in to watch. The reporter was standing outside a community center, microphone in hand, talking about the “controversial” film production in Houston. A short clip of the protest plans flashed on the screen, with footage of conservative church leaders denouncing us. My stomach twisted at the sight of angry faces and shouted words.
But then, something unexpected happened.
The camera panned to another group—this one holding signs of support. “Film Production Bringing Jobs and Diversity to Local Community” read one of the banners. The reporter turned to a woman standing with the supportive group.
“This project isn’t just about filmmaking,” the woman said, her voice steady and strong. “It’s about giving opportunities to local artists, actors, and crew. It’s about representation. I’ve got a nephew who’s getting his start because of them, and that’s something to be proud of.”
Kandy let out a breath she’d been holding. “Wow,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. “I didn’t expect that.”
I nodded, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. “People are starting to see the bigger picture. This isn’t just about us—it’s about all the people we’re working with.”
Ella grinned, tapping her fingers against the table. “Exactly. And that’s what we need to keep pushing. We have to drown out the negativity with the truth. The louder we are, the more we’ll show them that we’re here for the right reasons.”
Kandy’s phone buzzed again, and she glanced down, her face lighting up with surprise. “Oh my God, Karissa—look at this.”
She handed me the phone, and I saw a message from one of the local LGBTQIA+ advocacy groups.
“We’re putting together a rally for you. We’ve got your back. Let’s show these haters what community really looks like.”
My heart swelled at the words. For the first time since the backlash began, I felt the overwhelming power of support lifting us up.
Chapter 77: The Gathering of the Tribe
The day of the rally arrived faster than I expected. I stood on the steps of the community center where the event was being held, watching as the crowd began to gather. Rainbow flags fluttered in the breeze, and signs of support were held high. The energy in the air was electric, charged with determination and defiance.
Cade stood next to me, his arm resting around my shoulders. “This is incredible,” he said, his voice full of awe. “Look at all these people. They came out for you.”
I shook my head, feeling humbled. “They came out for all of us,” I corrected him. “For the community. For the people we’re fighting for.”
Kandy appeared beside us, her face flushed with excitement. “Ella’s over there talking to some of the reporters,” she said, nodding toward a group of people with cameras and microphones. “This is going to get a lot of coverage.”
I smiled at her, feeling a sense of pride I hadn’t felt in a long time. “We did this,” I said softly. “We’re turning it around.”
Kandy grinned back, but before she could respond, a voice called out from behind us.
“Karissa! Kandy!”
We turned to see one of the local actors we’d hired for the production jogging up to us, a wide smile on her face. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she said, slightly out of breath. “This whole thing—it’s inspiring. I’ve never been part of something like this before, and I just wanted you to know that you’re making a difference.”
Kandy’s eyes softened, and she reached out to touch the woman’s arm. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That means more than you know.”
The woman nodded and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving us standing there in a moment of shared emotion.
The rally began with speeches from local activists and leaders, each one more passionate than the last. They spoke about unity, about standing up against hate, about the power of community. As the sun set and the rally reached its peak, I was called up to the makeshift stage to say a few words.
My hands shook slightly as I gripped the microphone, but as I looked out over the sea of faces—so many of them filled with hope and solidarity—I felt the fear dissolve. These people were here for us. They believed in us. And that gave me strength.
I cleared my throat and began to speak.
“When Kandy and I started this production, we never expected to be here today, standing in front of all of you,” I began, my voice strong and clear. “We came to Texas to tell a story. A story about creativity, about opportunity, about community. And what we’ve found is that this community is stronger, braver, and more beautiful than we could have ever imagined.”
The crowd erupted into cheers, and I paused to let the sound wash over me.
“But as you know, not everyone sees it that way,” I continued. “There are people out there who want to silence us. Who want to push us out because they don’t understand what we’re trying to do. They see our diversity, our passion, and they’re afraid. But fear is not a reason to stop. Fear is a reason to keep going. To push harder. To be louder.”
More cheers rang out, and I saw Cade in the crowd, his eyes locked on mine, a proud smile on his face.
“So we’re going to keep going,” I said, my voice rising with conviction. “We’re going to keep creating. We’re going to keep building. And we’re going to show them that we belong here. That this community is stronger because of its diversity, not in spite of it.”
The cheers were deafening now, and I could feel the energy pulsing through the crowd. I wasn’t just speaking for myself or for Kandy. I was speaking for everyone who had ever been made to feel like they didn’t belong. For everyone who had ever been pushed aside because of who they were.
“We are not alone,” I said, my voice steady. “We are in this together. And together, we are unstoppable.”
Chapter 78: “Aftermath and Reflection”
As the rally wound down and the crowd began to disperse, I found myself standing on the edge of the stage, staring out at the horizon as the last of the sunlight faded from the sky. My heart was still pounding with adrenaline, but a quiet sense of peace had settled over me.
We had done it. We had turned the tide.
Kandy came up beside me, slipping her hand into mine. We stood there in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the world settle back into its usual rhythm.
“We really did it,” she finally said, her voice soft with wonder.
I nodded, squeezing her hand. “Yeah, we did.”
She glanced at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “You were amazing up there. I think you inspired a lot of people tonight.”
I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed by the compliment. “I just spoke from the heart. That’s all any of us can do.”
Kandy was quiet for a moment, then she sighed. “It’s not over though, is it? This fight?”
I shook my head, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. “No. It’s not. There will always be people who hate us, who don’t understand. But we’re stronger now. And we’re not backing down.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I guess we just have to keep pushing forward. One step at a time.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “One step at a time.”
As we stood there together, the enormity of what we had accomplished began to sink in. We had faced down hate, and we had come out stronger. But there was still so much more to do. The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but with all the support we had gotten I felt like we were ready for whatever came next.
Chapter 79: After the Storm
The following morning, everything felt different. The air was charged with a newfound energy, and I could sense that something had shifted. It wasn’t just the rally or the speeches. It was the way the community had come together for us, the way people had started to see us not as outsiders, but as part of something bigger.
I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly. Emails, texts, notifications from social media—it was overwhelming. The rally had gone viral, with clips of my speech circulating across platforms, accompanied by headlines like “Independent Film Production Sparks Major Community Support in Texas” and “Texas Filmmakers Take a Stand Against Hate.” It was surreal seeing my face splashed across news feeds.
Kandy was already in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone, when I finally emerged from the bedroom, still groggy from the adrenaline crash of the night before.
“You’re trending,” she said, looking up with a smirk.
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “God, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
She shrugged, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Honestly? I think it’s a little of both. But mostly good.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a seat across from her, glancing at the news articles she had open on her laptop. It was surreal to see our names in print like that, our little project suddenly thrust into the spotlight. I knew this was a double-edged sword. With the support we had garnered from the rally, we were bound to attract even more attention from those who wanted to tear us down.
“You think we’re ready for this?” I asked, my voice quiet, the weight of the moment pressing on my chest.
Kandy looked up at me, her face serious now. “We don’t really have a choice, do we? This is happening, whether we’re ready or not.”
I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee. She was right. We had to be ready. The momentum was building, and there was no stopping it now.
Later that day, we met with Ella in her office downtown. She had a huge grin on her face when we walked in, her phone glued to her ear. She gestured for us to sit down as she finished her call.
“Yeah, that’s right… A full feature on the rally. I’ll send over some photos and clips. This is going to be huge. Thanks, I’ll be in touch!” She hung up and spun her chair around to face us.
“Ladies,” she said with a beaming smile, “you’ve officially gone national.”
Kandy raised an eyebrow. “National?”
Ella nodded, leaning forward with her hands clasped. “After last night, you’re not just a local story anymore. Several national outlets are picking up the rally footage. They’re spinning it into this whole narrative about resilience, about diversity in the arts. I’ve been on the phone all morning setting up interviews and features.”
Kandy and I exchanged a look, and I could see the concern in her eyes mirrored in my own.
“This is great,” I said slowly, “but it’s a lot. We were already getting some backlash before the rally, and now it’s going to be amplified tenfold.”
Ella nodded, her face softening. “I know. And we’re prepared for that. But I’m telling you, the tide is turning in your favor. You’ve got the public on your side now. People are seeing what you’re doing, and they’re inspired. They want to support you.”
Kandy leaned back in her chair, exhaling sharply. “It’s just… a lot to process.”
“I know,” Ella said softly. “But this is your moment. We have to capitalize on it. The more positive attention we can bring to the project, the harder it will be for the opposition to drown you out.”
Chapter 80: Pushback and Resiliance
Just as Ella had warned, the backlash hit hard in the days following the rally. Conservative media outlets started running hit pieces, framing us as radicals pushing an “agenda.” Social media was flooded with hateful comments, and a few fringe groups even organized protests outside our filming locations.
It was jarring to see how quickly the narrative could flip. One minute, we were hailed as champions of diversity; the next, we were vilified as troublemakers. The anger was palpable, and it was coming from places I hadn’t even considered.
I was struggling to keep it together.
One afternoon, I sat in the production office with Kandy, sifting through the latest reports on the protests. Outside, the Texas heat bore down, but inside, the atmosphere was tense. Cade sat across from us, his jaw tight as he scrolled through his phone.
“They’re calling for a boycott,” Cade muttered, showing us an article from a conservative site. “They want local businesses to stop supporting the production. Some of the crew are getting threats.”
My stomach churned. This was exactly what I had feared.
“We can’t let them scare us off,” Kandy said, her voice steady but determined. “If we back down now, we’re proving them right.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the unease creeping up my spine. “We need to make sure our crew is safe,” I said. “We can’t ask people to put themselves in harm’s way for this.”
Cade sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’ll talk to security. Maybe we can hire some extra protection.”
Kandy leaned forward, her eyes sharp. “We should also reach out to the local LGBTQIA+ organizations again. They were so supportive during the rally—maybe they can help us organize some kind of community response. We need to show these people that we’re not alone.”
I nodded, grateful for Kandy’s clear-headedness. She was right. We couldn’t let the opposition isolate us. We had to show them that we had allies, that we had a community behind us.
But as we talked about strategies and risks, I felt my mind drifting. Just an hour ago, a nondescript envelope had arrived for me in the morning mail. It looked like junk at first, but as soon as I noticed the return address from the Texas DMV, I knew exactly what it was.
I had taken the envelope into the bathroom, locking the door behind me, needing a moment of privacy. Hands shaking, I’d torn it open and slid the small plastic card out into my palm.
There it was.
My name.
Karissa Anne Sterling.
And beneath it, my gender: Female.
I stared at it, just standing there in the cramped office bathroom, the dim fluorescent light buzzing overhead, my breath caught in my throat. This simple piece of plastic, with its terrible DMV photo and official-looking seal, had somehow unlocked a flood of emotions I didn’t even know I’d been holding back.
I didn’t expect it to hit me this hard. But I could feel tears welling in my eyes. It wasn’t like everything was suddenly fixed, or that all the doubts and fears had vanished, but it was real. This was who I am. Officially. Legally.
I ran my thumb over the letters of my name, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me like a warm blanket.
When I took a deep breath and looked into the mirror, I noticed the reflection had subtly changed over time. The face staring back at me wasn’t the same one I’d grown up with—softer lines had formed, the effects of months on HRT, and my chest had a more natural curve from the saline implants. They were still in place, keeping their shape, though I’d recently made a “refresher” trip to the clinic to help stretch the skin, prepping for when I’d eventually get my permanent implants. It was a careful, gradual process, but it made everything feel like it was moving forward. This body, this reflection, it finally felt like me. And for once, I didn’t flinch away from it.
But that was an hour ago, and now here I was, back in the harsh light of reality. The protests. The backlash. The hate.
My license was tucked safely away in my bag, but its presence buzzed in the back of my mind like a secret I wasn’t sure I was ready to share. Not here. Not now. Especially not with everything else going on. How could I let myself feel this joy when everything around me was on the verge of collapse?
I shifted in my chair, trying to focus on the conversation about securing more support for the production. But Kandy, of course, wasn’t letting anything slip by unnoticed.
“Hey,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me, her voice dropping a little, “you’re acting weird.”
I shot her a glance, hoping I could brush her off. “What are you talking about?”
Her eyes were sharp, studying me like she was trying to read between the lines. “You’ve been off since lunch. You’ve barely said anything. Did something happen?”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. Damn it. I wasn’t ready to talk about it—not with everything else going on. But Kandy wasn’t going to drop it, and I knew she wouldn’t stop until I said something.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to sound casual. “It’s nothing.”
Kandy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Karissa. We’re in the middle of a shitstorm, and you’re practically glowing over there. What’s going on?”
I sighed, biting the inside of my cheek. I could feel the license sitting in my bag, practically burning a hole through the fabric. Maybe it was okay to share this—just this small moment of happiness. Maybe I needed to, now more than ever.
“I got something in the mail today,” I said slowly, glancing around the room to make sure no one else was listening. Cade was too busy furiously typing away on his phone to notice.
Kandy tilted her head, waiting.
I reached into my bag, my fingers trembling slightly as I pulled out the license. I held it up, just enough for Kandy to see.
Her eyes widened instantly. “Holy shit.”
I nodded, feeling a small smile tug at my lips despite the chaos around us. “It’s real, Kandy. My name. My gender. It’s all… real.”
Kandy’s expression softened, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “Karissa, that’s… that’s huge.”
“I know,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think it would mean this much, but… it does.”
For a moment, the weight of the protests and threats melted away. For a moment, there was just this. Me. Standing in the fullness of who I am.
Chapter 81: Ready for Battle
In the midst of all the tension, we made a decision that would prove to be one of the most important steps in protecting ourselves and our crew: we organized a self-defense and empowerment class.
Kandy had suggested it after we heard that some of our crew members had been harassed while leaving set. She’d immediately reached out to a local instructor who specialized in self-defense for vulnerable communities, and within a week, we had the first session set up.
The class was held in a spacious warehouse near one of our filming locations. As I stood near the entrance, watching people trickle in, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Crew members, actors, and even some of the local LGBTQIA+ community had shown up. It wasn’t just about protecting ourselves—it was about empowerment, about taking back control in the face of fear.
Kandy was at the front of the room, helping the instructor set up. Her face was lit with determination and focus, and I couldn’t help but admire her. She had a way of taking charge, of turning fear into action. It was one of the things I loved most about her.
As the class began, the instructor walked us through various techniques—how to defend ourselves, how to stay aware of our surroundings, how to de-escalate a confrontation. There was a seriousness in the room, but there was also a sense of unity. We were in this together, and that made all the difference.
At the end of the class, as people started to leave, one of the younger crew members—a quiet, shy woman named Marla—came up to me.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “For doing this. I was really scared before, but now… I feel like I can handle it.”
I smiled at her, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “You’re stronger than you think,” I told her. “We all are.”
As I watched her walk away, I felt a swell of hope. The opposition might be loud, but we were stronger. We were building something that couldn’t be easily torn down. Not by hate. Not by fear.
Chapter 82: Under Pressure
As production continued, the pressure mounted in ways we couldn’t have predicted. There was no denying the rally had galvanized both sides, and in a place like rural Texas, that meant conflict wasn’t far behind.
The morning after the self-defense class, I arrived on set early, expecting the usual hum of activity as crew members prepped the first shots of the day. Instead, I was met with silence and a small group of people clustered near the catering truck, their faces drawn tight with concern. Something was wrong.
Kandy spotted me from across the lot and made her way over. Her walk was tense, her jaw clenched. I didn’t even have time to ask what was happening before she grabbed my arm and started steering me towards the production trailer.
“We’ve got a situation,” she muttered under her breath, barely stopping to say hello.
“What kind of situation?” I asked, already feeling the tightness of dread knotting in my chest.
Once inside the trailer, Kandy shut the door behind us, then pointed to her laptop, which was open on the small table we used for meetings. On the screen was a video, shaky and grainy like it had been shot on a cell phone.
“Somebody posted this late last night,” Kandy said, folding her arms as she watched my face. “It’s making the rounds on social media.”
I leaned over the laptop and hit play. The video showed a group of protestors gathered at the edge of our set, yelling and waving signs. Their voices were muffled by the wind and static, but I could still make out the venom in their tone. They shouted words like “degenerate” and “sin,” slinging hate like it was nothing.
But the worst part came at the end of the clip. Someone in the group stepped forward, their face hidden beneath a hood, and tossed a bottle of some kind toward the set. The camera zoomed in just as it shattered on the ground—nothing more than a glass beer bottle, but the symbolism was loud and clear.
It was a threat.
I stared at the screen, my hands starting to tremble. “Did anyone get hurt?” I asked, my voice thin.
“No,” Kandy said, rubbing her temples. “Security got there right after it happened, but the group took off before anyone could identify them. Local police are investigating, but I doubt they’ll do much.”
I sank into one of the chairs, the weight of the situation pressing down hard. The protests had been heated before, but this… this was new. This was dangerous. We weren’t just facing words anymore; we were facing something much uglier. And we had no idea how far these people were willing to go.
Kandy sat down across from me, resting her elbows on the table. “We need to address this, Karissa. We can’t keep pretending it’s just a handful of idiots with signs. It’s escalating.”
“I know,” I murmured, my mind racing with possibilities. “But what the hell do we do? If we push back too hard, we might make it worse.”
Kandy exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to bring in more security, or… or hire a PR firm that can handle this kind of shitstorm. We need to control the narrative before it spirals.”
I nodded slowly, trying to absorb the magnitude of what she was saying. A PR firm. Extra security. These were measures we hadn’t budgeted for—things we hadn’t anticipated when we started this whole venture. It was supposed to be an indie production, a passion project. Now it felt like we were gearing up for a war zone.
Later that afternoon, I sat in my trailer, staring at my phone. My inbox was flooded with messages from local organizations offering support, but also from strangers—their words a mix of encouragement and cruelty. It was like living in two different worlds: one where people believed in us, and another where they wanted to tear us down.
As I scrolled through the messages, one particular email caught my eye. It was from a woman named Patricia, a mother from a nearby town. The subject line simply read: “Thank You.”
Curious, I clicked on it.
The email was short, but it hit me hard:
Hi Karissa, I just wanted to reach out and say thank you for what you and Kandy are doing. My son came out last year, and it’s been hard for him. We live in a very conservative area, and he’s been bullied at school. But seeing your production out here—seeing you fight back against the hate—it’s given him hope. It’s given me hope, too. So, thank you. You’re making a difference, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. - Patricia
I read the message twice, letting it sink in. I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected our work to mean something to people like Patricia and her son. But maybe that was the point. Maybe the real impact of what we were doing wasn’t in the headlines or the viral videos. It was in the quiet moments, the lives we touched without even realizing it.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Cade. I answered, still reeling from Bethany’s email.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to shake the fog from my mind.
“We’ve got a problem,” Cade said, his voice tight with urgency. “Some of the local businesses we’ve been working with? They’re pulling out.”
“What?” I sat up straighter, my pulse quickening. “Why?”
“The protests,” he said, sighing heavily. “It’s too much heat for them. A couple of vendors have already canceled deliveries for next week, and one of the locations we were supposed to shoot at is backing out. They’re scared of the backlash.”
My mind raced, trying to figure out how to plug the leaks. Losing locations, vendors—it was like the ground was crumbling beneath us.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Okay, we need to find replacements fast. What about—”
“Already on it,” Cade said. “But this is just the beginning, Karissa. People are spooked. If this keeps up, we could lose more than just vendors. We might lose crew.”
“Crew?” The thought of it made my stomach drop. Without our team, without the people who had put their blood, sweat, and tears into this project, we were sunk.
“Yeah,” Cade continued. “Some of the locals are talking about walking away. They don’t want to risk their safety. And I don’t blame them.”
I closed my eyes, rubbing my forehead as a dull ache began to form behind my temples. This wasn’t just about finishing the film anymore. This was about survival—about holding onto everything we’d built in the face of a growing storm.
By the time Kandy and I sat down with Cade and Ella that evening, the mood was grim. We gathered in Ella’s office, the dim light casting long shadows across the room.
“We need a strategy,” Cade said, pacing in front of us like a man on the edge of a breakdown. “This thing is unraveling fast, and if we don’t act now, we’re going to lose everything.”
Ella leaned forward, her fingers steepled in front of her. “I’ve already spoken to a crisis management firm in LA. They specialize in handling high-profile blowback like this. It’s going to be expensive, but I think it’s our best bet.”
Kandy nodded slowly, glancing at me. “We have to do it. We can’t afford to let this thing get out of control.”
I looked between them, feeling the weight of their words settling over me. I wanted to believe we could fix this, that we could somehow push through the chaos and come out stronger on the other side. But the truth was, I didn’t know if we had it in us.
Chapter 83: Grit Meets Grace
As we gathered around Ella’s office, the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound breaking the tense silence. Kandy had her arms crossed, staring at the floor, while Cade continued pacing, his footsteps echoing in the small space. My mind was running in circles, piecing together the scattered thoughts and fears that had accumulated since the video surfaced. How quickly things could fall apart.
Ella slid a piece of paper toward me. “Here’s the budget estimate for the crisis management firm. I won’t sugarcoat it. This is a serious hit, and it’s not the only cost we’ll be facing. We need to rethink how we allocate resources—like now.”
I skimmed the numbers and winced. “Damn. And that’s just for the basics?”
Ella nodded. “They’re not cheap, but they’re effective. They’ve handled bigger messes than this and managed to pull companies out of the fire.”
I leaned back, thinking of the ways we’d stretched the budget already. We were operating on the edge, funding coming through in dribs and drabs. Every scene completed felt like another bridge crossed, but now, with the growing tension, I wondered if we were halfway to the point of no return.
Kandy broke her silence, her voice low but firm. “We’re not giving up. This film… it’s too important. We’ve worked too hard to let a bunch of hate-mongers scare us off.”
Cade stopped pacing and sighed. “Kandy, it’s not about giving up. It’s about surviving long enough to finish this damn thing.”
“I get that,” Kandy replied, her tone sharpening. “But we have to fight back. We can’t let them win. If we let these people bully us into backing down, what does that say about everything we stand for?”
I watched her, impressed by the fire behind her words. She was right. This wasn’t just about making a movie anymore—it was about standing up to something larger, something insidious. It was about refusing to bend under pressure.
“We need to shift focus,” I said, folding the paper in half and setting it aside. “We can’t wait for the narrative to take control of us. We need to shape it ourselves.”
Ella raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”
I looked at Kandy, feeling the pieces click together. “We need to show what’s happening. Not just the protests, not just the threats. We need to make it clear why we’re doing this. We’re telling a story—about community, about the power of collaboration, and about giving people in places like this a voice. We highlight the locals who’ve supported us, the ones who’ve been helped by this production. Bethany, for example—the woman who emailed me about her son. We find more like her. We show the human side of what we’re doing.”
Kandy’s eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant. We turn the focus back on the positive impact.”
“And by doing that,” Cade added, “we put pressure on the people attacking us. If we show the world that this isn’t just some Hollywood project dropped into a small town, but something meaningful to the community itself, the hate loses traction. We create our own media storm.”
Ella nodded slowly, her wheels turning. “It could work. The key is controlling the message. If we flood social media and local outlets with the stories of people here who’ve been positively impacted, we start to drown out the noise. People want to support something they can feel good about. We just have to give them something real.”
I leaned forward, feeling a surge of energy, the fatigue from the past few days lifting, if only slightly. “We have to move fast. The longer we wait, the more damage they can do.”
The next morning, the crew buzzed with new purpose. Kandy and I sat down with our publicist, Anya, mapping out the strategy. We filmed testimonials from locals—crew members, small business owners, and even a few neighbors who had benefitted from the extra commerce brought in by the production. Each interview was raw and genuine, full of hope and resilience. Bethany’s testimonial was the most moving—her son even spoke briefly, his nervousness palpable, but his words sincere.
As we compiled the footage, I realized how powerful these voices were. It wasn’t just about us anymore—it was about everyone who had become a part of this project. We weren’t outsiders swooping in; we were part of something bigger. And we needed the world to see that.
By the end of the day, we’d edited a short video highlighting the impact of the production. Anya had it uploaded to all our social media channels, tagged local news stations, and sent it directly to journalists who had been covering the protests. Within hours, the comments and shares began flooding in.
I stood behind Kandy as we watched the video go live, the two of us glued to the screen as the views skyrocketed. The response was immediate. Support from all over the country began pouring in—messages of solidarity, donations to help fund security, and even offers from other filmmakers to come down and help us finish.
“You did it,” Kandy said softly, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
“No, we did it,” I corrected, giving her a small smile.
But as the positive messages flowed in, so did more threats. Some comments were vile—accusations, hate speech, threats of violence. The divide was growing more stark, and while the outpouring of support was overwhelming, so was the reminder of how far people would go to tear others down. We couldn’t afford to let our guard down now. Not when the stakes were this high.
That night, Cade called an emergency crew meeting. As we gathered in the small production office, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. The video had shifted the momentum, but the reality of our situation still loomed large. The threats weren’t just words anymore—they were actions.
“We need to talk about security,” Cade said, addressing the room. “Starting tomorrow, we’ll have extra guards on set. I’m not taking any chances.”
“We’ve also reached out to the sheriff’s office,” Kandy added. “They’ve promised to keep a patrol near the site, but they won’t always be here. We need to be vigilant.”
I scanned the faces of our crew. Some looked exhausted, others resolute. A few, though, had that look—the look that said, maybe this isn’t worth it. I could feel their fear. Hell, I felt it too. But we had to keep going.
“There’s one more thing,” I said, stepping forward. “Kandy and I have been talking, and we think it’s important that everyone here feels protected—really protected, not just by hired security. So we’re organizing some self-defense workshops for anyone who wants to take them.”
There was a murmur of approval throughout the room. People were nodding, and some even looked relieved.
“We don’t expect anything to happen,” I continued, “but we want to be prepared. The last thing we want is for anyone to feel unsafe.”
As the meeting wrapped up, I couldn’t shake the weight on my shoulders. We’d taken control of the narrative, yes. We’d built up a strong front. But behind the scenes, the danger was still real, still lurking, waiting for the moment to strike. We were in the fight of our lives, not just for the film, but for everything we stood for.
By the next week, the self-defense workshops were in full swing. Cade had brought in a local instructor, a former Marine with a no-nonsense attitude and a knack for breaking things down so everyone could understand. At first, some of the crew had been hesitant—especially the guys—but after a few sessions, it became clear that this wasn’t just about physical safety. It was about empowerment.
I was in the middle of my own lesson, practicing a basic move to break out of a wrist hold, when I glanced up and caught Kandy’s eye across the room. She was working with another crew member, a determined expression on her face. There was something about seeing her like this—strong, capable, and completely in control—that made me pause.
We were no longer just filmmakers. We were survivors, and we were preparing for whatever came next.
Chapter 84: Drawing Lines in the Sand
The next few days felt like we were moving through a fog. The production continued, but now it was colored by the ever-present tension hanging in the air. The additional security helped, but it didn’t erase the nagging sense of danger that followed us everywhere.
Kandy and I tried to keep things as normal as possible on set, focusing on the work, pushing through the scenes, but it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent. Every new face that appeared in town, every unfamiliar vehicle parked near the set—it all set us on edge.
The media attention had grown even bigger than we anticipated. After our video went viral, news outlets from across the state—and some from out of state—started requesting interviews. Reporters showed up at the set, hoping to get a glimpse of the drama unfolding. Some of them were supportive, others were just looking for a headline.
Jonathan handled most of the press, but there were moments when Kandy and I had to step in, carefully navigating questions about the protests, the threats, and the message behind our film. We spoke from the heart, trying to stay true to the vision we’d started with. But every word we said felt like a potential landmine, ready to explode at any moment.
The hate, however, wasn’t limited to anonymous social media trolls. We started receiving handwritten letters at the production office—some of them crude, others outright terrifying. One, in particular, stood out. It was written in neat, precise handwriting. It wasn’t angry or rambling like many of the others we’d received. Instead, it was disturbingly calm, almost conversational.
“You’re not welcome here. This town doesn’t need your kind poisoning our way of life. Leave while you can. We’ll be watching.”
I stared at the letter, my stomach tightening. The words were so straightforward, so chilling in their simplicity. It wasn’t the first threat we’d received, but something about it hit harder. I handed it to Kandy, who read it silently before looking up at me, her face pale.
“We’re not leaving,” she said quietly, though there was a fire in her voice. “We’ve worked too damn hard for this.”
I nodded in agreement, though the knot in my stomach didn’t ease. We had security. We had support from the community. But this was something different—a direct warning. And whoever sent it, they weren’t bluffing.
Over the next few days, the pressure mounted. The protests outside the production site grew louder, more organized. The local religious group had stirred up more people—most of them weren’t even from our town, but they’d come from neighboring areas, drawn by the controversy and the chance to push their agenda. Signs declaring us sinners and perverts, condemning our work, lined the streets.
One afternoon, as we were wrapping up a scene, we heard shouting from the other side of the fence. A group of protesters had gathered, their voices rising in a chorus of anger and hate. Cade, who’d been overseeing the lighting setup, cursed under his breath.
“This is getting out of control,” he muttered.
Kandy stood next to me, her jaw tight. “We knew this was going to happen,” she said, her voice low. “We knew the backlash was coming. But we can’t let it derail us.”
I admired her determination, but I could feel the tension growing. This wasn’t just noise anymore. This was a full-blown attack on everything we were trying to build. I could see the toll it was taking on the crew—people were nervous, looking over their shoulders, checking their cars before getting in.
As the shouting intensified, Jonathan appeared at my side, his face grim. “We should call it for the day,” he said, nodding toward the fence. “It’s not safe right now.”
I hated to admit it, but he was right. The protesters were getting bolder, and we couldn’t risk an altercation. I glanced over at Kandy, and she gave a reluctant nod.
“Alright,” I said, raising my voice so the crew could hear. “We’re wrapping early today. Everyone head home, and we’ll regroup in the morning.”
There were murmurs of confusion, but no one protested. The crew began packing up, the usual chatter replaced with a tense, uneasy silence. I watched as they filtered out, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavier on my shoulders.
Once most of the crew had left, I lingered with Kandy, Cade, and Jonathan by the equipment trucks. The protesters were still shouting, though the security team was keeping them from getting too close.
“This is insane,” Cade said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t sign up for a damn war zone.”
“We knew there would be pushback,” Kandy replied, her voice steady. “But we’re not backing down.”
I admired her resolve, but I could see the cracks forming. We were all tired, mentally and emotionally. And now the threats were becoming more than just words.
“We need to step up security,” I said, glancing at Jonathan. “Can we get more patrols? Maybe have the sheriff increase their presence around here?”
“I’ll talk to them,” Jonathan replied. “But the town only has so many resources. We’re not exactly a top priority.”
I exhaled sharply, feeling the frustration build. We were doing everything we could to protect ourselves, but it still didn’t feel like enough.
As we stood there, the noise from the protesters reached a fever pitch, and suddenly, there was a loud bang. We all jumped, instinctively ducking as the sound echoed through the lot. For a split second, my heart stopped, fear coursing through me.
“What the hell was that?” Cade shouted, his eyes wide.
One of the security guards rushed over, breathless. “Someone threw something—some kind of firework. It didn’t hit anything, but we need to get you all out of here. Now.”
The adrenaline surged through my veins as we quickly gathered our things. The fear was palpable now, settling deep in my bones. This was real. This was more than just angry words on a sign or a letter. This was an escalation.
We piled into the cars, the drive back to the production office silent except for the occasional nervous glance in the rearview mirrors. No one said much, but I could feel the collective anxiety weighing on us.
When we arrived back at the office, we filed inside, locking the door behind us. I collapsed onto the couch, my mind racing. How much longer could we keep this up? How far were these people willing to go?
Kandy sank into the chair opposite me, running a hand through her hair. “This is getting worse by the day.”
I nodded, still trying to process everything. “We need a new plan.”
By the next morning, word of the incident had spread. Local news stations were all over it, some of them sensationalizing the danger we were supposedly in, while others took a more measured approach. But either way, the attention was growing, and not all of it was positive.
Jonathan had arranged a meeting with a local LGBTQIA+ advocacy group who’d heard about the protests and wanted to offer their support. They arrived at the production office early, a group of about five people—activists, community organizers, and a couple of legal experts.
The leader of the group, a sharp-eyed woman named Teresa, didn’t waste any time. “We’ve been monitoring what’s happening here,” she said, her voice firm. “And we want to help. You’re not the first to face this kind of harassment, and unfortunately, you won’t be the last.”
Kandy and I exchanged glances. I could tell she was relieved to have backup, though neither of us wanted to admit how much we needed it.
“We appreciate that,” I said, leaning forward. “But what can we do? It feels like we’re constantly on the defensive.”
Teresa nodded. “That’s the problem. You’re reacting to them, instead of setting the terms yourself. We need to take back control of the narrative.”
She pulled out a folder and laid it on the table. “We’ve dealt with situations like this before, and the key is not to let them paint you as the enemy. Right now, they’re making you out to be the bad guys—‘outsiders,’ ‘perverts,’ whatever other bullshit they want to throw around. But if you focus on the people you’re helping, the community you’ve built here, it shifts the conversation.”
Kandy tapped her fingers on the table, her eyes narrowing. “We’ve already started doing that. We’ve been posting videos, getting locals to speak out in support of us.”
“That’s a good start,” Teresa replied. “But you need to go bigger. Reach out to national outlets. Get celebrities involved. The more attention you bring to the positive work you’re doing, the harder it’ll be for them to drown you out with hate.”
I felt a spark of hope. Maybe this wasn’t a losing battle after all. “We’re going to need help,” I admitted. “We’ve been so focused on just getting through each day that we haven’t been able to think much farther ahead.”
Teresa smiled. “That’s why we’re here. We’ll work with your publicist, connect you with some of our allies, and start turning the tide.”
It felt like a lifeline had been thrown our way, and I grabbed onto it with both hands.
Over the next week, the strategy started to shift. Anya worked tirelessly with Teresa’s team, reaching out to national news outlets and high-profile advocates who could lend their voices to our cause. We started getting responses from people we never would have imagined—actors, musicians, politicians. They tweeted in support of our project, calling out the bigotry and ignorance we were facing. The tide was turning.
But with the increased attention came increased scrutiny. The more support we garnered, the louder the protests grew. The religious group wasn’t backing down. If anything, they were doubling down, organizing larger rallies, drawing in more outsiders, and ramping up the pressure.
One night, after a particularly brutal day of filming, I was sitting in my apartment with Kandy, the two of us unwinding with a bottle of wine. The protests had been louder than ever, and it had taken everything in me to stay focused on set. Now, in the quiet of the night, I could feel the weight of it all settling back onto my shoulders.
“They’re not going to stop, are they?” I asked, staring into my glass.
Kandy sighed, leaning back against the couch. “No. They won’t. But that doesn’t mean we stop either.”
Her words were reassuring, but there was no denying the exhaustion in her voice. We were all running on fumes, trying to stay one step ahead of the storm.
“We’ll get through this,” she added, more to herself than to me.
But as I sat there in the dim light, the noise of the protests still ringing in my ears, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much more we’d have to endure before it was all over.
The next morning, we gathered for our daily production meeting, but there was a new energy in the air. Despite everything, there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Teresa’s team had been working nonstop, and it was starting to pay off. Anya was buzzing with excitement, her phone constantly pinging with updates from various outlets.
“I’ve got good news,” Anya said, standing at the front of the room, her eyes sparkling with a determination that hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. “We’ve secured an interview with a national outlet—one of the big ones.”
A murmur rippled through the room, a mix of surprise and relief. It wasn’t that we hadn’t believed Anya could pull it off, but the past few weeks had been so intense that any good news felt like a win, even if it was just a momentary reprieve.
“Who’s doing the interview?” Kandy asked, leaning forward in her chair.
Anya grinned. “None other than Harper Quinn.”
I blinked. Harper Quinn. The Harper Quinn, one of the most influential journalists in the country, known for her hard-hitting interviews and ability to bring attention to marginalized voices. This was huge—bigger than anything we could have hoped for.
Kandy’s eyes widened, and I could tell she was trying to suppress a smile. “How the hell did you pull that off?”
Anya shrugged, looking uncharacteristically humble. “Let’s just say Teresa knows some people, and Harper’s been following what’s happening here. She’s interested. She wants to come down and see for herself.”
The room erupted in excited chatter, and I felt like we might actually be on the verge of something that could tip the scales in our favor.
“When is this happening?” I asked, my mind already racing with a hundred different things we needed to prepare for.
“Next week,” Anya replied. “We’ll need to get everything in order—clean up the production site, make sure security is tight, and, of course, get you all ready for the interview itself.”
Kandy and I exchanged a glance. The interview could be a turning point for us, but it also meant more scrutiny, more attention—both good and bad. The stakes were higher than ever.
The week leading up to the interview was a blur of preparation. We increased security around the production site, making sure the protests didn’t spill over into something more dangerous. Teresa’s team coordinated with local law enforcement, and we even brought in a few more private security firms to help manage the growing crowds of both protesters and supporters who had started showing up in larger numbers.
Every day, it felt like we were walking a tightrope. On one side, the religious right and their increasingly aggressive tactics. On the other, our supporters—some local, some from out of town—who were determined to stand by us, no matter what.
The tension was palpable, and we all felt it. But there was something else, too: a sense of purpose that had solidified over the past few weeks. We were doing something that mattered, something bigger than any of us had anticipated when we first started this project. And that was keeping us going, even when things felt impossibly hard.
On the morning of the interview, the production site was eerily quiet, almost as if the universe had hit the pause button for a moment. The protesters were still outside the fence, but they seemed less riled up than usual, perhaps wary of the media attention Harper Quinn’s arrival would bring.
Inside, the crew was running through their usual pre-production tasks, but there was a different kind of buzz in the air. People were nervous, excited, a little on edge. We all knew this interview had the potential to change everything—for better or worse.
Harper Quinn arrived mid-morning, and her presence was as commanding as I’d imagined. She was tall, poised, with an air of quiet authority that instantly put everyone on notice. Dressed in a sleek black blazer and jeans, she looked every bit the serious journalist she was known to be. Her camera crew followed behind her, setting up quietly and efficiently as she made her way toward us.
I felt a knot of anxiety form in my stomach as I watched her approach. This was it. This was the moment we’d been working toward, the opportunity to shift the narrative in our favor. But the pressure weighed heavily on me. What if we said the wrong thing? What if it backfired?
Kandy must have sensed my unease because she nudged me gently. “We’ve got this,” she whispered, her voice steady. “Just be yourself.”
I nodded, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest. I’d been on camera plenty of times, but this felt different. This wasn’t about me or my work—it was about our community, our project, our fight.
Harper greeted us with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “Karissa, Kandy—thank you both for agreeing to this.”
“Thank you for coming,” Kandy replied. “We appreciate the opportunity to share our side of the story.”
Harper nodded, her gaze sharp and assessing. “I’ve been following what’s happening here closely, and I have to say, it’s remarkable what you’ve built. But it’s also clear that you’re facing a lot of resistance. I want to dig into that today, if you’re both ready.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “We’re ready.”
The interview began on the production site itself, with Harper walking us through the various departments—wardrobe, set design, the casting area—while asking pointed, thoughtful questions about how we got started, what inspired the project, and what we hoped to accomplish.
It was easy at first, talking about the work we loved, the community we’d built. But then Harper shifted gears, and I could feel the weight of her next question coming before she even asked it.
“You’ve both been very open about the challenges you’re facing, particularly from certain religious groups who oppose your project,” Harper said, her eyes locking onto mine. “Can you tell me more about what that’s been like? How are you dealing with the threats and the protests?”
I swallowed hard, feeling Kandy’s presence next to me, grounding me. “It’s been difficult,” I admitted. “We expected some pushback, but I don’t think we fully anticipated just how aggressive it would get. The protests started small, but they’ve grown over time, and the threats… well, they’ve become more personal.”
Harper’s expression didn’t change, but I could tell she was absorbing every word. “Personal how?”
“There have been letters,” I continued, choosing my words carefully. “Threats sent directly to us, warning us to leave town. And the protests outside have gotten more intense. We’ve had to increase security, not just for the production, but for our crew as well.”
Kandy spoke up, her voice calm but firm. “We’re not backing down, though. We’ve built something important here, and the support we’ve received from the community—both locally and beyond—has been overwhelming. There are people who need this project, who see themselves reflected in the stories we’re telling. We’re not going to let a few hateful voices stop us.”
Harper nodded, her gaze flicking between the two of us. “And how do you stay motivated in the face of that kind of opposition?”
I hesitated for a moment, thinking about everything we’d been through—the fear, the exhaustion, the anger. But also the joy, the sense of purpose, the knowledge that what we were doing mattered.
“It’s not easy,” I said finally. “There are days when it feels like too much, when we question whether it’s worth it. But then we look around at the people we’re working with, the people who’ve come to us for help, for representation. And we remember why we started this in the first place.”
Kandy nodded in agreement. “We’re telling stories that need to be told. We’re creating opportunities for people who’ve been marginalized, ignored. That’s what keeps us going.”
Harper seemed satisfied with our answers, but I could tell she wasn’t done yet. She had one more question up her sleeve, and it was going to be the toughest one yet.
“There are those who would argue,” Harper said slowly, “that by pushing forward with this project, you’re causing division. That you’re bringing controversy to a quiet community that didn’t ask for it. How do you respond to that?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. I glanced at Kandy, who gave me a small nod, silently encouraging me to take this one.
“We didn’t come here to cause division,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “We came here to create something positive, something that could help people. The controversy isn’t coming from us—it’s coming from those who refuse to accept that there’s more than one way to live, more than one way to love, more than one way to tell a story.”
Harper’s eyes flickered with interest, and I could see the gears turning in her mind as she processed my words.
“I think,” I continued, “that the real issue isn’t about us being here. It’s about fear. Fear of change, fear of the unknown, fear of something different. And that fear manifests as anger, as hate. But we’re not afraid. We’re here to do the work, to tell these stories, and to stand up for the people who need it.”
Kandy smiled softly, adding, “And we’re not going anywhere.”
The interview aired a few days later, and the response was immediate. Harper Quinn’s platform was massive, and within hours of the segment airing, our social media was flooded with messages of support from across the country—and beyond. News outlets picked up the story, amplifying it even further.
But the opposition also grew louder. The protests outside the production site intensified, with more people showing up each day, chanting, holding signs, demanding that we shut down. The letters we received became more frequent, more vitriolic. We knew we were walking a fine line.
Despite the growing tension, the momentum we’d gained from the interview felt like a lifeline. Donations to our production poured in, enough to fund several more episodes. More actors, designers, and writers reached out, wanting to be part of what we were building. It was like a surge of electricity had been pumped into the project, propelling us forward.
And through it all, Kandy and I stood side by side, more determined than ever to see this through to the end. Even if we had to fight every step of the way.
Chapter 85: Standing Firm
The next few weeks passed in a strange haze. Everything was happening so fast. The protests outside the production site swelled to a peak. Every day seemed like an escalation of tensions, with more signs, more shouting, and more vile messages making their way into our inboxes. But so did the messages of support, streaming in from all corners of the country and the world. People were seeing us, hearing us, and the power of that was something we hadn’t fully realized until now.
Harper’s interview had ignited a firestorm, but it was one that came with an equal measure of light. We were getting job offers and inquiries from other production houses, LGBTQIA organizations, and even educational platforms interested in our work. It was as though the interview had opened a floodgate, and now, everyone wanted a piece of what we were doing.
Still, the reality on the ground was tense. Our workspaces were constantly monitored by security, and we had rotating shifts of volunteers from the local LGBTQIA center helping to keep things calm, acting as buffers between our staff and the protesters. The community had rallied in ways I hadn’t expected—small businesses sent food, neighbors kept watch, and allies from all walks of life came together in solidarity. It was heartening, but exhausting.
One day, as I was walking out of the production tent with Kandy by my side, we saw a group of protesters gather near the entrance, their signs raised high. One man stepped forward, his face red with anger. He held up a Bible and began shouting at us, his voice dripping with venom.
“You’re an abomination! You’re bringing sin into our town, and we won’t stand for it!”
Kandy’s jaw tightened, and I could feel her energy shift, ready to defend us, ready to fight. But I reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“We don’t need to engage,” I whispered. “Not like this.”
She hesitated, then nodded, her hand relaxing in mine. We turned to walk away, but before we could, a group of our supporters—locals, people from the LGBTQIA center, even some of the crew—stepped in between us and the protesters. They didn’t shout or fight back. They simply stood there, quiet and resolute, holding signs of their own, some with rainbow flags, others with simple messages of love and acceptance.
The tension was thick in the air, but it wasn’t anger that won out. It was something quieter, more powerful. The protesters, faced with such calm resistance, eventually turned and left, their shouts dying down as they retreated.
Kandy exhaled, her shoulders slumping in relief. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted, watching as our supporters stayed where they were, standing like a wall of quiet strength. “But it’s exactly what we needed.”
That moment stuck with me—how even when the voices of hate grew loud, the voices of love and support stood taller, without needing to scream or shout. It was a reminder that we weren’t alone in this fight, and that our strength came from the people who believed in what we were doing.
Chapter 86: The Final Push
A few days later, we had a meeting with the crew. Everyone was tired, but there was a renewed sense of determination in the air. We knew that we were nearing the finish line for this season of the show, but it felt like more than that. It felt like we were building something that would last long beyond these few episodes.
“We’ve got a lot of eyes on us,” Kandy said as she addressed the team. “And that means we’ve got a responsibility to get this right. We’re not just making a show—we’re creating something for the people out there who need to see themselves represented, who need to know they’re not alone.”
Heads nodded around the room. Everyone was tired, but no one was ready to quit.
“We’re going to push through these last few weeks,” Kandy continued. “And then, we’re going to take everything we’ve learned and keep going. This isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning.”
Her words hung in the air, and I felt a surge of pride for what we’d built together. This team, this project, this community—we’d created something real, something that mattered. And no amount of hate or protest was going to take that away from us.
The day the final episode of the season aired, we held a small viewing party at the production site. It wasn’t anything fancy—just the crew, some friends, and a few members of the community who had been with us from the start. But it felt monumental.
We sat together, watching the culmination of months of hard work play out on the screen. Every scene, every performance, every shot was a testament to what we had built. And as the credits rolled, I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Not because it was over, but because we had done it.
When the episode finished, there was a moment of silence, and then the room erupted into applause. Kandy hugged me tightly, her eyes shining with pride.
“We did it, Karissa,” she whispered. “We really did it.”
I hugged her back, feeling the weight of everything we had accomplished settle into my bones. It wasn’t just about the show—it was about the community we had built, the lives we had touched, and the stories we had told.
Chapter 87: Looking Forward
In the weeks that followed the finale, things slowly began to calm down. The protests outside the production site dwindled, and eventually, the crowd disappeared altogether. It was as though they had realized that their efforts to stop us had only made us stronger, more determined.
But the support—that never wavered. If anything, it grew. We received letters and messages from people all over the world, telling us how much the show had meant to them, how it had helped them feel seen, heard, understood.
The crew took a well-deserved break, but it didn’t last long. We were already getting offers for more projects, more seasons. And we were ready.
Kandy and I sat in the production office one afternoon, going over the plans for what would come next. There was a sense of calm now, a quiet certainty that we were on the right path.
“Do you think we’re ready?” Kandy asked, glancing over the list of potential new projects.
I smiled, feeling more sure than I ever had before. “We’ve always been ready.”
She grinned, leaning back in her chair. “You know, I never thought we’d make it this far. But now… I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Neither can I,” I said softly, thinking about everything that had led us to this point—the challenges, the victories, the moments of doubt, and the moments of triumph.
We had come a long way. And as I looked around the office, at the pictures on the walls, the equipment we had fought so hard to secure, and the people who had stood by us through it all, I knew one thing for sure: This was only the beginning.Chapter 88: Paving the Road in Front of Us
As the dust settled and the next chapter of our journey began, Kandy and I made a commitment. We wouldn’t just continue creating content—we would continue creating community.
We used some of the funding we received from new partnerships to establish a training program for young LGBTQIA individuals interested in the arts. We brought in professionals from all over the industry to offer workshops, mentorship, and, most importantly, a safe space where they could learn and grow.
And, inspired by the threats we’d faced, we also invested in self-defense classes and empowerment programs for our staff and community members. It wasn’t just about protecting ourselves from physical harm—it was about building the confidence and strength to stand tall in a world that often tried to knock us down.
The production site became a hub of activity, not just for filming, but for learning, connecting, and building something bigger than any of us had imagined. We were no longer just telling stories—we were paving the way for others to tell theirs.
As I sit now, in the quiet after the storm, I can hardly believe that it’s been less than a year. A year that tore through my life like a hurricane, reshaping everything in its wake. It feels like a lifetime packed into months, but when I take a step back, I can see that this was always building. Everything—every tear, every triumph, every quiet moment of doubt or courage—had led me here.
I think back to that first day. How terrified I was. How I’d spent so much time hiding from myself, and how exhausted I’d been from the hiding. It all started so small—one decision, one act of bravery, just to say to the world, “This is who I am.” That single step set everything in motion. And somehow, that led to now.
I couldn’t have predicted any of it—the media circus, the protests, the sudden surge of attention. The laughter and the late-night conversations with Kandy and Cade, when it felt like the world outside had grown quiet for just a little while. The fights. The moments of doubt so heavy I could barely breathe. The highs and the lows. But through it all, something stronger than fear or uncertainty kept pushing me forward. Kept reminding me that this—all of this—wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It was about thriving.
Standing here, I can see how much has fallen into place, in ways I never could have imagined. Not just in the professional sense, though that’s been surreal enough on its own. But more than that, it’s the feeling of truly belonging somewhere. Belonging to myself. That might have been the hardest part of this journey—the acceptance of my own worth, my own story. And once I found that, it was like the rest of the world shifted around me. Not in grand, sweeping changes, but in small, powerful ones: the kindness of strangers, the way people started to see me, the unexpected friendships I formed along the way.
And those friendships? They’ve become my armor, my sanctuary. I never expected to have people who would fight for me—who would stand beside me, even in the moments when I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own. People like Kandy, who has always seemed to understand what I needed before I even knew how to ask for it. Cade, with his quiet strength, who made me feel safe in ways I didn’t know I needed. They aren’t just my friends anymore. They’re my family.
I think back to who I was at the start of this whirlwind—before the wedding, before the HRT, before any of it. I see now that I was scared. I was uncertain. I didn’t know how to claim my own space in the world, how to stand up and say, this is me. And now, looking back, I see all the ways I’ve been cracked open and remade. I’ve been stretched beyond what I thought was possible. But every tear, every break, was just another way of becoming whole.
There are days I still feel overwhelmed—like the weight of the world is pressing down on me, like the voices of those who don’t understand are too loud to ignore. But now, I know I can handle it. Now, I know there’s nothing I can’t face, because I’ve already faced the hardest thing of all—myself.
I can’t see the future. I don’t know where this path leads next. But I know I’m not walking it alone anymore. I have people who stand beside me, and more importantly, I stand with myself. I’ve learned that self-love isn’t just a phrase. It’s a practice. It’s a fight. It’s the hardest, most beautiful thing you can ever do. And when you do it—when you truly love yourself—the world starts to shift around you.There’s still so much to figure out. There always will be. But now, when I look forward, I don’t see uncertainty as something to be afraid of. I see it as potential. As possibility. I’ve learned that I don’t need to know every step in the journey. I just need to know that I’m ready to take them, one at a time. And with every step, the world opens up a little more.
I’ll keep moving forward, not because the road is clear, but because I know I’m strong enough to walk it now. Strong enough to stand up and be seen. Strong enough to protect the people I love, and to let them protect me, too.
This past year was about surviving. But the years ahead? They’re about living.
And I’m ready.About the Author
Karissa Anne Sterling is a dynamic new voice in contemporary fiction, exploring the intricate themes of identity, love, and belonging with a raw, empathetic approach. Her debut novel, Unexpected Awakening: Redefining the Boundaries of Identity, Love, and Belonging, weaves together personal transformation and deep emotional journeys that resonate with readers on a universal level.
Though private about her own life, Sterling draws inspiration from her experiences and observations of human resilience, relationships, and the search for authenticity in a complex world. With a unique style that blends emotional depth with sharp insight, she offers readers an unflinching look into the struggles and triumphs of self-discovery.
When not writing, Karissa enjoys quiet moments in nature, often seeking solace and inspiration from the landscapes around her. She believes in the power of storytelling to connect, heal, and challenge the boundaries we often place on ourselves.