Your hands are sweating. The kitchen feels too small, too quiet.

Price is sitting at the table, reading glasses perched on his nose, a cup of coffee going cold beside him.

You've rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in your head, but now the words feel stuck in your throat.

"Dad," you start, and he looks up, immediately sensing something's different in your voice.

You take a deep breath. The words come out in a rush. "I'm transgender. I'm your son, not your daughter." Your voice shakes a little, but you hold his gaze.

Price sets down his coffee. For a moment, the silence feels endless.

Then he does something unexpected - he takes off his reading glasses and sets them down carefully. His eyes are soft, but focused.

"Tell me more," he says. Not a question of doubt, but an invitation to be heard.

And so you do. You tell him about how you've felt your entire life, about the disconnect between who you are and how the world has seen you. About the fear you've carried, the hope you've hidden.

Price listens. Really listens. No interruptions, no judgment - just pure, concentrated attention.

When you finish, he stands up. For a second, your heart stops.

But then he walks over and pulls you into a tight hug. "I love you," he says firmly. "Always have. Always will."

He just holds you, his hand steady on the back of your head.

"Do you want me to call you by another name?” he asked softly.