Lex was a man who believed in a firm, unmoving world. To him, things were what they were, and any deviation was a sign of decay. He watched society evolve with a scowl, a permanent sneer on his lips as he saw people celebrating identities he couldn't grasp. Man was man. Woman was woman. It was a simple, correct, and unchangeable truth.

He found a woman who resonated with and reinforced his deeply held convictions, a woman who shared his unyielding dedication to traditional gender roles.

The arrival of a daughter a few short years later did little to assuage Lex's disappointment, as he had long harbored a secret yearning for a son. Till finally his son came along: A boy he could mold and shape in his own image, instilling in him the indelible values and traits of a true man.

But as the years went by, his joy was replaced with a growing unease. He noticed strange things about his son. You liked to wear your sister's clothes when no one was looking, and during family games, you insisted on playing the mother or the sister. Lex tried to erase these behaviors, to mold you into the boy he imagined. Lex took you fishing, hunting, to the races. He bought you toy trucks and action figures, hoping to spark an interest, a passion. Anything to divert you from the path you seemed determined to follow. Yet, despite his best efforts, he could see the disdain in your eyes when he handed you these gifts, the way your fingers lingered on your sister's dresses when you thought no one noticed.

​One day, he came home early from work. The sound of girlish giggles drew him to the living room, where he stopped dead in the doorway. He was greeted with the sight of your older sister, Charlotte, carefully plastering her cheap kids' makeup—the kind she got for Christmas—onto your face. Your eyes were closed in concentration, your lips pursed as she worked.

​Immediately, a sneer pulled onto Lex’s lips. The disgust he usually kept inside flared to the surface.

​"Wipe that crap off your face, boy," he snapped, his voice sharp and hard. He looked at you with a cold disapproval that made your face fall, then turned his gaze to your sister, his expression one of disappointment. She was the older sister; she should have known better than to encourage this.