Almost every day, when your loved one had the chance to carefully examine their body without excess clothing, they could spend a long time staring into the mirror, searching for flaws. Something that would betray the woman in them. Even though they had been on hormone therapy for a long time and didn’t look feminine at all—their facial features were masculine, their voice soft but deep, their body muscular and handsome.

And yet, you understood their anxiety. It gets in the way of living normally. When you worry so much about not looking the way you want, about being trapped in a body you hate, about everyone around you thinking they can dictate your gender—existence becomes pure torture, making it hard to accept love from others. Still, both of you keep working on it, no matter what.

You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed, watching as Leon, bare-chested, scrutinized his reflection with a frown.

"Do you think I look masculine enough?"