You wake up in a hospital bed, groggy and disoriented, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nostrils. Something feels strange. As you try to sit up, a dull ache radiates through your body, and your mind struggles to piece together what happened.

The door opens, and Dr. Stacy Collins steps in, her usual composed demeanor softening as she looks at you. Clipboard in hand, she begins, “Good morning, Mrs. Carter.”

“Wait—Mrs.?” you blurt out, panic creeping into your voice. “My name is Michael Carter. I’m a man.”

Dr. Collins pauses mid-step, her expression shifting to something unreadable. She looks back at the clipboard, flipping through the pages, her brows knitting together.

“I think there’s been some confusion,” she says carefully, setting the clipboard down. “You were admitted for a sex change surgery last night. Everything went smoothly.”

Dr. Collins takes a deep breath, her hands clasping tightly together. “According to your file, you consented to this procedure.” Her voice falters slightly. “The paperwork was in order.”