Aunt Rose Change Me Into Girl (Again) - Part 5

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I had just stepped out when my phone buzzed.

Leo:

Hey, I’m downstairs. Can you come out?

I looked down at myself again, feeling wonderfully confident.

Me:

Coming.

When I stepped out onto the footpath, I saw him—Leo, leaning casually on a scooter, helmet hooked on one handlebar, wearing a dark T-shirt and linen trousers, looking so welcoming. “You look…” he started. I waited, a happy anticipation bubbling inside. He shook his head, smiling faintly. “You look like a poem someone’s still writing.”

I laughed under my breath, wonderfully surprised. “Hop on,” he said, extending his hand. He handed me the extra helmet. I adjusted it over my hair, careful not to smudge anything. Then I swung my leg over the scooter, feeling the coolness in the air settle in behind me, my hands hovering in the air for a moment. He noticed.

“You can hold on,” he said, “it’s me; I won’t let you fall.”

So I did. I placed my hands gently on either side of his waist. My bangle wrist touched lightly against his shirt. And just like that, we pulled away from the busy street, a wonderful adventure beginning.

I sat close behind Leo, arms loosely around his waist. The traffic cleared as we reached the lakefront. That’s when he spoke. He didn’t turn all the way. Just tilted his head slightly, voice raised enough to cut through the breeze.

“You know,” he said, “when I first saw you like this… I didn’t feel confused.” The wind picked up, and I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. But I felt a wonderful warmth spread through me. And I was no longer riding alone.

The scooter slowed as we reached the edge of the lake. Leo parked near the boundary wall and took off his helmet. I did the same, my sundress fluttering softly in the lake air, hair slightly tousled from the ride. We walked past the food trucks, neon signs blinking lazily. Vendors were shouting over one another, plates clinking, the sizzle of burgers being cooked, and the fizz of soda being poured into glasses, a symphony of delicious chaos.

“Hungry?” he asked.

We stopped at a taco truck with a faded sign and a man who had probably been there since before I was born. He nodded at us like we were regulars and handed over two paper plates stacked with elote—tangy, hot, spicy, topped with chili powder and a messy swirl of sour cream. We walked toward the quieter side of the beach, shoes in one hand, plates in the other.

“This is a bad idea,” I said, taking a bite, my eyes watering.

He laughed. “You’ve always been weak with spice!”

“I am out!”

“Prove it,” he grinned.

I took another bite—burning, sour, glorious—and nodded through the happy tears. “See?” He watched me carefully and then said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do it this beautifully.” I didn’t know what to say. So I just kept happily chewing. My bralette felt like a secret I no longer needed to hide. My arms were bare, glowing faintly in the streetlight. And beside me, Leo wasn’t asking questions, just wonderfully accepting.

I kicked off my sandals, letting my feet dangle over the edge, feeling the cool sand. Leo unwrapped a bottle of water and handed it to me. After a moment, he asked, “So… what major are you planning to take for college?”

“Hospitality,” I said. “Food and event management.”

He blinked, then smiled. “Makes sense."

“What about you?” I asked.

“Pre-med,” he said. “I got into a local college, lots of studying ahead, probably no sleep!”

“Sounds brutal!”

“It is,” he said, then added with a grin, “But at least if you burn yourself making a fancy dish someday, I can prescribe something!”

I laughed, and for a moment, it was just that—two students on the edge of two very different futures, joking like everything was simple, and wonderfully connected. But it wasn’t.

“In two months,” he said, “we’ll be in college.” I nodded. “Yeah.” I glanced at him. “And you? Are you ready for college?” He smirked. “Absolutely not. I’m terrified. But also… curious.” I smiled faintly, sharing his excitement. We sat with half-empty paper cups of mango smoothies now. I hesitated for a moment, then said it.

“Sam was horrible today.” Leo looked up instantly.

“He came back after lunch,” I continued. “Cornered me near the garden, called me messed up, and asked if I was trying to be a girl.” Leo’s expression changed immediately—his jaw tightened, brows pulling in. “He said that?” His voice was low and sharp. “That piece of—” He was angry.

“I swear to God,” Leo cut in, “if I see him, I’ll punch his face in!”

I looked at him, half in shock, but deeply touched by his protectiveness. “I’m serious,” he added. “You don’t get to speak to someone like that. Not after they’ve had the courage to show up like you did. He’s just scared. Guys like him always are.” He glanced at me, then gently changed the topic. “You were beautiful, by the way, at the wedding.”

I blinked. “You already said that!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean just your outfit,” he said. “You carried yourself like a princess, that’s what made it beautiful.” I looked away quickly, but not fast enough to hide the happy smile that crept across my face.

“If things get hard,” he said, “at college or anywhere else… Just call me, okay?”

“I will,” I said, knowing he meant it.

We had gone quiet again, the kind of silence that only grows between people who no longer feel the need to act. Leo shifted slightly, looked out at the lake, and said:

“You’ve always been different, you know.”

I turned to him slowly. “Since when?”

“Since middle school,” he said. “Since forever, maybe.” He wasn’t accusing, just remembering, kindly.

“There was this one time,” he went on, “when I came over to your place to study, just before the finals. Dave and Chris were there too. We were messing around, pretending to study, you went to the kitchen to get snacks.” I withered, trying to place the moment.

“I was sitting by your desk,” Leo continued, “and I accidentally opened the wrong drawer while looking for a pen. There was a small bottle of nail polish inside, Nude beige color.”

I froze, my heart fluttering with a mix of surprise and gratitude.

He glanced at me. “I didn’t say anything then. Dave and Chris were right there. I didn’t want to… I don’t know. It makes you uncomfortable. Or make it a joke.”

I looked down at my knees. “I’d forgotten that was even there.”

“I didn’t,” his voice was gentle, “not because it was shocking. But because something about it felt like… truth, sitting quietly in a drawer.”

“You didn’t think it was weird?”

He shook his head. “No. Just waiting for a time you felt safe enough to take the cap off.”

The breeze moved wonderfully around us again. After a long pause, I said it. Almost like a slipping out into the dark, but a beautiful one.

“I used to paint my toenails.”

Leo turned toward me, not surprised at all, just attentive.

“Back in school,” I went on. “At night, when no one was around. I’d use this dusty pink or sometimes a pale lavender—whatever I could find from the old stuff my mom kept in the bathroom cabinet. Just one coat. Sometimes two.” I gave a, happy laugh. “I knew it wouldn’t last. But it made me feel… correct, somehow.” He didn’t say anything. So I kept going. “And when school started the next morning, I never worried. Because we had to wear sneakers. No one could see. Socks, laces—like armor.”

“You were already becoming, even then,” he said softly. “Just… in secret.”

I nodded. “I didn’t have words for it, I just knew that when I looked down at my feet and saw that color, I felt less… fake.”

He turned toward me fully now, his shoulder gently brushing mine. “I wish I’d seen that,” he said.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head gently. “Back then, it wasn’t for anyone else to see; it was for me. Because that was the only version I could live with, even if only for a day.”

Leo was quiet for a while, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, without fanfare, he reached down and tapped the side of my foot with his finger. “Want to paint them again tonight?” he asked with a small, kind smile. “Properly this time?”

My breath caught. I looked at him. And I wasn’t embarrassed. I smiled. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“I trust you,” I said, my voice full of gratitude.

He turned toward me, slowly, his eyes warm and understanding.

“This is the first time I’m telling someone this,” I added, my voice low. “Fully, not in fragments, not as a joke.” He didn’t interrupt. I continued, “I’ve never felt right, not in my body. Not in the way people looked at me. I used to think I was wrong. But I wasn’t.”

I looked up, finally, my eyes meeting his. He blinked once, eyes full of something I hadn’t let myself look for before—real, profound understanding. “I experienced gender dysphoria long before I knew what the word meant. It was like living behind a glass wall, every day.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop. Then I said it, the words feeling like light.

“You can call me Reene.” Not Rome. Reene.

Leo finally spoke. “Reene,” he said, like the name had always been there, waiting, a beautiful melody. My breath caught. He smiled— “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “I’ll protect that truth with my life.” I didn’t reply, I just looked at him, feeling incredibly seen and loved. Though I wanted to say more—about the bralette, the nights I cried alone after school, the prayers I whispered into the pillow—I couldn’t. This time, I was nervous rather than ashamed, a new, gentle nervousness. I wasn’t ready to open every door just yet.

Leo noticed. He didn’t push. He just sat there, shoulders steady beside mine, giving me space, a truly wonderful friend. Then my phone buzzed. Aunt Rose. I glanced down.

Aunt Rose:

It’s getting late, honey. Everything okay?

“It’s Aunt Rose. I should head back.” He nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

We stood up, brushing the sand off our clothes. I adjusted my wrap, and Leo picked up the helmets. The ride back would be quiet, I knew. Because even though I hadn’t told my whole story, I had started it, beautifully.

Leo had dropped me home just after 9:30. We hadn’t talked much during the ride—just exchanged glances, light touches, the occasional smile, a comfortable understanding passing between us. At 10:45, I sent him a message.

Leo:

Are you still awake?

I replied instantly.

Reene:

Yes.

A few seconds passed. Then:

Leo:

I’m downstairs. Want to come up?

Reene:

Come quiet, I will open the front door

Leo had climbed up quietly using the side stairs. We laid an old blanket on the tiles, creating a cozy little space. Reene stepped out quietly, holding a small mirror, cotton pads, and a bottle of nail polish—dusty rose, the same shade she'd once kept hidden in a drawer back in school, now a symbol of her brave new self. Leo followed a few steps behind, closing the window gently behind them. Aunt Rose had gone to bed, peacefully asleep.

Reene’s sleeveless nightgown fluttered gently in the breeze, her already unfastening the cap of the nail polish bottle. “I used to do this alone,” she said quietly. “Sitting on the floor, door locked, light low, heart racing.”

Leo looked at her gently. “And now?”

She looked up. “Now I’m still nervous, but… not scared.”

He reached out. “Give me your foot.”

She raised her left foot slightly. He held it with care—fingertips only, so gentle. The first stroke of polish was smooth. She watched him in silence, a warm glow spreading through her. “You’ve done this before,” she said.

He smiled. “No. The second toe. Then the third.” The color looked wonderfully different out here—rosier under moonlight.

“I think this is the moment,” she whispered.

“What moment?”

“Where the pretending ends.”

He paused and looked up at her. “Then let’s not rush it.” He finished the foot. Blew gently to help it dry. Then reached for the other. She blushed, a happy, warm blush. She looked down at him, brush in hand, his back hunched slightly, focused on her smallest toe. When both feet were done, he placed the bottle aside. The wind moved softly between them, a quiet melody.

She wiggled her toes. “They’re perfect.”

He smiled. “So are you.”

The bottle of nail polish sat capped beside them now, toes glinting faintly in the moonlight, little beacons of joy. Reene leaned back on her palms, eyes half-closed, feeling utterly content. Leo sat beside her, knees pulled up, his fingers resting loosely over them. He kept glancing at her, a gentle, admiring look in his eyes. And then, without words, he shifted closer. Not dramatically enough for his shoulder to brush hers, but close enough to feel a beautiful connection.

Reene didn’t move. Their fingers, resting between them on the warm fabric of the blanket, were almost touching, light as breath. She looked at him. He met her gaze, a profound understanding passing between them. Finally, he said quietly, “I should go. It’s late.”

Reene nodded. “Okay.” But neither of them moved right away. When they finally stood, she walked him to the door. He turned to her there, one foot on the stairs.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said.

He smiled. “No, Reene. Thank you for trusting me.”

She smiled back, her heart full. He turned to go, then paused again. And this time, just before stepping away, he reached up and gently touched her hand one more time. “I’ll see you soon.” And then he was gone, his footsteps down the stairs, leaving behind a wonderful feeling of hope.

The Next Morning

I stepped barefoot into the living room, where Aunt Rose had already laid out our yoga mats. She was sitting straight, hair tied in a low bun, already radiating those early-morning rays that always settled me into peace. “Good morning,” she said. I sat beside her on the mat, folded my legs, and drew in a long, happy breath.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” She opened her eyes slowly and turned to look at me. Her gaze was filled with love. I looked down at my lap, fingers curled gently over my knees.

“I’ve kept this to myself for a long time. However, yesterday with Leo… something wonderful swerved. I spoke it aloud. Now, there's no turning back, and I don't want to.”

“I’ve never felt right,” I said. “Not in my body. Not in the way people looked at me. I used to think I was wrong. But I wasn’t.” I looked up, finally. “I’m not Rome anymore.”

She inhaled slowly, calmly, but her eyes were suddenly wet with happy tears. “I want you to call me Reene.”

Her lips parted slightly. Then she reached out and placed her hand on mine, a comforting touch. “Reene,” she whispered, the name like a beautiful prayer. “Finally.”

I blinked back tears. “You’re not shocked?”

She laughed brushing her thumb across my knuckles. “Honey, I’ve been waiting for you to say it. I didn’t want to push, but I was always here.”

I swallowed, my voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I thought you’d think I was confused.”

“I’d only worry if you weren’t,” she said, her eyes twinkling. She leaned forward, kissed my forehead, and said, “Reene. My Reene.” I smiled, wonderfully relieved. The yoga mat stayed untouched that morning.

We were still sitting on the floor, mats half-rolled, the sunlight now fully spilling across the tiles. Aunt Rose had made herbal tea—steaming cups of tulsi and rose, the scent grounding and comforting. I had told her everything, absolutely everything.

She placed her cup down gently, her eyes serious but kind. “There’s something I’ve kept from you, Reene. Not to deceive you—but to protect and nurture.”

I looked up, heart suddenly still, a peaceful stillness. “You remember those tonics I gave you?” she asked. “The herbal oils? The daily rituals I guided you into—the massages, the food, the rest cycles?” I nodded slowly. She inhaled. “They weren’t just for health. They were for alignment. Holistically, they were meant to help the body transition gently. To move it into a more feminine hormonal state. Nothing chemical, just what your body already longed to be.”

My breath caught. “You knew?”

She gave a small, loving smile. “Not fully, but your mom—my sister—told me once, very quietly, that she worried. That you weren’t like other boys. That you lit up at her dresses more than baseball bats.” I blinked hard, a wave of understanding washing over me.

“She didn’t say it out loud,” Aunt Rose continued. “But I heard her. And when you came here… I saw it too. The way your hands moved. The way you carried weight in your hips. The way you looked at your reflection when you thought no one was watching.”

“You saw all of that?” I whispered, deeply moved.

“I did,” she said. “And so, I decided—I would prepare the body gently. If it was right for you, you’d feel at peace. If not, nothing would harm you. Everything was herbal.” It hadn’t been just yoga or nutrition; it had been an intention, love, poured into ancient medicine, a beautiful, silent transformation.

Tears welled in my eyes, tears of gratitude and understanding. “You were helping me bloom without forcing me to see the garden,” I said.

She smiled. “Exactly.”

“And now?” I asked. “Now that I know… what happens next?”

She placed her hand over mine again. “Now, Reene, you choose; I no longer guide, I walk beside, a supportive companion on your beautiful journey.”

The window was open just enough to let in the sound of birds and the occasional distant honk, a peaceful backdrop. My phone rested in my lap. Aunt Rose had gone to the kitchen, giving me space, knowing, perhaps, that the next step was mine alone to take. I opened WhatsApp. My mother’s chat was pinned to the top. There were no recent messages—just old recipe photos she used to send me, voice notes about grocery lists, and a long thread of casual things left unsaid. But today, I didn’t want to talk about salad proportions or birthday sweets. Today, I wanted to tell her who I was, my true self. I stared at the blinking screen, my heart full of courage. Then I began.

Me:

Hi, Mom… There’s something I need to tell you. Something that’s been inside me for a long time. Aunt Rose probably knew you saw it too. You always knew I was different, didn’t you?

(I paused. Deleted that last line, Rewrote it with even more love.)

Me:

You always loved me gently. Quietly. I’m writing this because I need you to know… I’ve stopped hiding. I’m no longer Rome. My name is Reene. I’m still your child, kind-hearted, still messy with clothes. Still in love with your new recipes. I hope you can see me now, not as a boy you lost, but as a daughter you never knew you had. I love you. – Reene

I hadn’t moved since I hit send. My phone sat on the mattress beside me, screen dark, heart racing with anticipation. Then it buzzed.

Mom

Typing…

Then the message appeared.

Mom:

Honey… I had a feeling, but yes—I saw it in you. Even when you didn’t speak, your silence said so much. I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you told Aunt Rose. I’m proud of your courage. But your dad… He didn’t know. Maybe someday, he will accept you, too.

I read it again. And again. My heart filled with a mixture of emotions.

I typed slowly.

Me:

Thank you, Mom. That’s enough for now. I’m okay if Dad doesn’t know yet. I just needed you to know.

A minute passed. Then:

Mom:

I always was, honey. I just didn’t know what to call her. Reene is a beautiful name. I’m proud of you.

I laughed, through the tears this time, tears of pure joy. She was still my mother. And now, she had called me Reene, her beautiful daughter.

Epilogue: Going Back to Rome, Again (But Not Really)

Two months passed by, filled with wonderful new experiences. The summer rains came to Chicago; the smell of wet earth, incense, and Aunt Rose’s evening lemongrass tea filled the house with comforting aromas. And my body… had changed too, in beautiful, subtle ways. My arms had softened. My hips carried a new, graceful curve. My skin glowed without even trying. The gentle slope of my chest now filled my bralette, a comfortable, natural feeling. I had become more Reene than I’d ever been. But life, as always, finds its lovely complications.

With my 10th-grade finals results, I secured admission to a reputed college in downtown Chicago, the kind of institution my parents had always dreamed of for me. The form had already been filled out months before, in Rome's name. So when the offer letter arrived, it read: “Congratulations, Mr. Rome.”

And just like that, the world asked me to pause my outward transition, just for a moment. To return, for the sake of documents, enrollment IDs, and introductions. And so, on the first day of college, I stood in front of the mirror wearing a crisp button-down shirt, flat sneakers, my long hair tied back neatly, and wearing a baseball cap, and I had no polish on my nails. I looked like him again, the boy the world expected.

But I wasn’t. Not from inside, because now, every step I took onto that campus, I carried her with me. Her courage. Her name. Reene. And I knew this wasn’t the end. This was simply a new beginning. A different setting. A new season where the outside world would still call me Rome, but inside, you already know. And one day—maybe not in the first class, or even the first semester—but someday soon… The world would know her as well, including my dad. Because the next beautiful story had already begun.