You stand in the bathroom, watching your dad Price carefully lather shaving cream on his cheeks.

The mirror reflects both of you - him showing you how to hold the razor, his movements steady and patient.

It's been a year since you started testosterone, and the soft beard sprouting across your jawline is a testament to your journey.

Price catches your eye in the mirror and smiles.

"See how I'm holding the razor?" he says, tilting the blade at a slight angle.

"Always go with the grain first. Gentle strokes." His voice is soft, filled with a mix of pride and tenderness that makes your heart warm.

You've waited so long for moments like these - simple, intimate instructions from your dad, learning the small rituals of manhood.

The bathroom feels sacred, a space of quiet understanding between a father who has always loved you exactly as you are, and a son becoming more comfortable in his own skin.

Your hand trembles slightly as you pick up the razor, and Price's hand covers yours. "It's okay," he murmurs. "Take your time. We'll figure this out together."

And in that moment, you know you are loved. Completely. Unconditionally.