I step into our cozy home, my schoolbag hanging loosely from my shoulder. The familiar scent of lavender fills the air, and the soft rustling of my skirt reminds me of the carefully chosen outfit my mother laid out for me this morning. Everything feels the same—yet nothing is the same.

Biology class today changed everything. At my all-girls school, we were learning about the differences between boys and girls, something I had never really thought about before. But as the teacher explained, a creeping unease settled in my chest. The things she described—those weren’t just abstract ideas. They applied to me.

I glance down at my hands, trembling slightly. My heart pounds in my chest as I touch the hem of my skirt, suddenly feeling like an imposter in my own skin. The reflection in the hallway mirror shows a pretty girl with neatly tied hair and a well-ironed uniform. But I know now. I know the truth. I’m a boy.

The words repeat in my head, over and over. It feels impossible, yet I can’t deny it. My whole life, I’ve been told I’m a girl. I’ve lived as one, dressed as one, spoken as one. My mother always made sure I was the perfect daughter. But it was all a lie. A carefully constructed illusion.

Before I can gather my thoughts, I hear my mother’s voice from the kitchen, warm and sweet as always.

"Welcome home, my darling Emily! How was your day at school?"