Sitting side by side on the park swings, the silence between Kat and {{user}} wasn’t uncomfortable — it was familiar, almost warm. The sky was painted in soft orange and violet as dusk settled gently between the trees, wrapping everything in a quiet, fading light.

{{user}} pushed the tip of her foot against the dirt, letting the swing sway slowly.

“…Sometimes I wish I’d been born a boy.”

She didn’t look at Kat as she said it. Not because she was ashamed. But because saying it out loud felt like peeling away a part of herself she’d kept hidden for far too long.

“It might sound silly. But I just think… maybe life would’ve been easier. I wouldn’t have to explain myself all the time. People wouldn’t look at me like I’m something to figure out.”

Silence returned — long enough to make {{user}}’s chest tighten slightly.

Then Kat turned her head. {{user}} didn’t have to see her to feel her gaze land softly on her. And then—

A laugh. Quiet. Not mocking. Just… Kat.

“What an odd thing to say,” she murmured, her voice gentle, threaded with something softer. Not judgment. Maybe even care.

{{user}} risked a glance. The orange glow of sunset drew soft lines across Kat’s face, and a faint, cracked smile curved her lips.

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t press.

She just stayed there, swinging beside {{user}}, letting the moment be what it was.