GFW - Wellness Center - Part 11

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The apartment felt smaller when we got back. Or maybe it was just me. I dropped my hospital bag by the couch and just sank into the cushions. My sister put her keys on the counter, moved around the kitchen for a bit, then came back with two mugs of tea. She sat right beside me without a word.

For a while, the only sound was the fridge humming and the quiet sips from our cups.

I was the one who finally broke the quiet.

“Did you ever think I’d actually go through with it?”

She glanced at me. “Go through with what?”

“You know.” I waved a hand at myself. “This. Everything. Just… letting it happen.”

Her eyes softened. “I didn’t know. I just hoped.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You hoped your brother would turn into your sister?”

She didn’t flinch. “I hoped my sister would be healthy. Happy, not hiding from herself anymore.”

I stared into my tea. “I’m not happy yet.”

“No,” she said quietly. “But you’re a lot closer than you were.”

Something in me just cracked at that. I leaned back, resting my head against the couch. “I feel like I’m losing something every day. My voice, my body, my… place in the world.”

“You’re not losing,” she said gently. “You’re trading. And maybe what you're getting is better than what you’re giving up.”

I shook my head. “You make it sound like I’m in control of this.”

“You are,” she said firmly. “But you also have support. From me, from Reva. Even from Dr. Levin, in his own clinical way.”

The mention of Reva made my chest feel tight, but I let it go.

We didn’t talk much more after that. The rest of the day was quiet. The TV was on low in the background, soup was simmering on the stove, and my sister would check on me every now and then without pushing.

I was in the living room while my sister was in her room, probably on her phone. My phone buzzed. I picked it up, half-expecting a work email or spam.

Reva: Hey. I heard you’re home.

I stared at the screen for a moment, my thumb hovering. I wasn't sure if I wanted to answer.

Before I could decide, another message came.

Reva: I’m sorry for how you found out. That wasn’t how I wanted it to happen.

I leaned back into the couch, my heart thudding.

Reva: I know you’re angry. I would be too. But I need you to believe me—none of it was a trick. I just wanted you to feel safe. I wanted you to see what I see.

I swallowed hard, reading those words over and over.

Another buzz.

Reva: If you want to yell at me, I’ll listen. If you want to never talk to me again, I’ll respect that. But if you still want me in your corner… I’m here.

I put the phone down next to me. My tea had gone cold hours ago, but I wrapped my hands around the mug anyway, just staring into nothing. I didn't know what to say to her yet, but I knew one thing—this wasn't over, not by a long shot.

I didn’t reply to Reva that night. I left my phone facedown on the nightstand and let the screen go black.

Morning came slower than usual. I just lay in bed, staring at the faint light coming through the blinds, listening to the city outside—cars passing, a dog barking, a distant horn.

The gym bag was still in the corner of my room, right where I’d dropped it before the hospital. I hadn’t touched it since.

Part of me wanted to just throw it out. Another part wanted to grab it, walk to the Wellness Center, and pretend nothing had changed. But everything had changed.

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My hair fell forward over my face, soft and longer now, brushing my jawline. I tucked it behind my ear without even thinking—it was just something I'd started doing, copying the women at the gym.

My sister knocked lightly on the door before she poked her head in.

“Are you going to the gym?” she asked, like it was the most normal question in the world.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

She came in, leaning against the doorframe. “If you don’t want to go, then don't. But if you’re staying away just because you’re mad at Reva, maybe think about if that's worth losing everything you’ve been working toward.”

I sighed, looking at the gym bag again. “I’m not even sure what I’ve been working toward anymore.”

She smiled a little. “Then maybe today’s the day you figure that out.”

I stood in front of my closet for what felt like forever. The gym clothes were all neatly folded on the shelf—leggings, a fitted top, and the sports bra tucked in between. Reva and my sister had suggested most of them. Now, just looking at them made my throat tighten.

I pulled the sports bra out first. The fabric felt so soft and familiar under my fingers. I’d worn it so many times now that slipping it on was second nature. Too normal. And that's what scared me.

When I slid it over my head and adjusted the straps, the bra shaped my chest, lifting it in a way I couldn’t ignore. My figure curved into the high-waisted leggings, my waist pulling in just enough to hint at hips.

A lump formed in my throat, and before I could stop it, my eyes blurred with tears.

I sat on the edge of the bed, head in my hands, breathing in short, sharp bursts. I didn’t know if I was mourning the man I thought I was, or grieving the fact that I might never get him back.

I wiped my face quickly, not wanting my sister to see. Then I grabbed my gym bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed for the door.

I didn’t know how I was going to face Reva. But I knew I had to walk into that building today.

The walk to the Wellness Center felt longer than usual. With every step, my mind played the same loop—Reva’s face at the hospital, the way my sister and the doctor had looked at me, the feeling of being managed.

When I reached the corner where I could see the gym’s glass front, I slowed down. Through the windows, I could see the morning class was already warming up. There she was. Reva. Laughing with someone, her hands moving as she showed them a stretch. She looked so at ease, so herself, like nothing had changed at all.

My chest tightened.

I gripped the strap of my gym bag until my knuckles hurt. I could walk in. I could pretend I wasn’t still replaying every word from yesterday. I could pretend the room wouldn’t go quiet when I stepped inside.

But my feet wouldn’t move.

Instead, I just turned around.

I walked back the way I’d come, each step faster than the last, my heart pounding like I’d just run a mile. When I got to my apartment, I tossed the bag in the corner, kicked off my shoes, and sank onto the couch.

I didn’t cry this time. I just sat there in the silence, staring at the wall, wondering how long I could keep running from the very place that had changed me.

I was still on the couch when I heard my sister’s key turn in the lock. She stepped in with a grocery bag, spotted my gym bag still in the corner, and just raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t go.”

I didn’t even try to make up an excuse. “Nope.”

She set the bag on the counter. “You walked all the way there, though, didn’t you?”

I glanced at her, a little startled. “How did you—”

“You’ve got that look. The one where you almost did something but then chickened out at the last second.”

I sighed. “I couldn’t face them. Or Reva.”

She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “You’re not going to avoid her forever, Derek. Or the women in that class. They didn’t put you in that hospital bed. Walking back in there is your choice.”

I didn’t answer. She let it go, unpacking the groceries without another word.

That’s when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.

Reva.

You didn’t show up today. Are you okay?

I stared at the message. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came out. I set the phone down again, facedown this time, like that could block her out. But the truth was, her words still slipped under my skin, whether I wanted them to or not.

I sat there for what felt like hours, my elbows on my knees, staring at nothing. The doctor’s words kept looping in my head—two choices. Live with it, clinging to the part of me that still felt like a man… or let it go, and fully step into the life everyone seemed to think I was meant for as a woman.

I thought about my body. How much it had already changed without me really fighting it. I thought about the clothes in my closet—how many of them had shifted toward the feminine without me even noticing at first. I thought about how, despite all the confusion, some of those moments had felt… natural. And I thought about how tired I was. The constant push and pull inside me.

At some point, I realized I was gripping the edge of a throw pillow so tightly my knuckles hurt.

If I had to choose—really choose—I wanted to stop feeling like I was trapped in the middle. I wanted to try.

I whispered it out loud, just to hear how it sounded.

“I’ll try to be her.”

The words were so small, but they felt huge in the room.

After sitting there in silence, I realized I wasn’t ready to commit to just one version of myself. The thought of erasing the man I’d been still made my chest ache. But the idea of never exploring the woman I could be felt just as wrong.

So I made a deal with myself. Some days, I’d be Derek—the guy, the brother, the office worker in slacks and a shirt. Other days, I’d be… her. Whoever she turned out to be. Dressed the part, moving through the world as a woman, even if it still felt strange at first.

It wasn’t about pleasing anyone else—Reva, my sister, or Dr. Levin. It was about testing who I was, seeing where I fit without burning the whole bridge behind me.

I leaned back into the couch, pulling the throw blanket over my lap, and let the thought settle in. Two lives. Two versions of me.

I found my sister in the kitchen, halfway through her morning coffee. She glanced up when I walked in, still in my lounge clothes but with my hair freshly washed and brushed smooth.

“I’ve decided,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Today’s going to be my first full day as a woman.”

Her eyebrows lifted, and she set her mug down. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I continued, my voice steady but my stomach doing flips. “Makeup, hairstyle… and I’ll need one of your dresses for work.”

Her lips curved into a slow smile. “For work?! You’re really going all in.”

I nodded. “If I’m going to try this, I want to see what it actually feels like. The whole thing.”

Without another word, she stood and motioned for me to follow her to her room.

“Alright,” she said, opening her closet. “Let’s get you looking amazing.”

Within minutes, she had me in front of her vanity, applying light foundation, a sweep of blush, subtle eyeshadow, and a soft nude lipstick. Then she curled the ends of my hair, pinning a few strands back so they framed my face.

When she finally turned me toward the mirror, I barely recognized myself. She grinned at my reflection. “Now for the dress!”

Pulling out a fitted navy number from her wardrobe, she handed it to me. “This one’s classy enough for the office, but you’ll still turn heads.”

I took it, running my fingers over the fabric, my pulse quickening. “This feels… different.”

“Good different,” she said, already reaching for matching flats.

The moment I stepped through the glass doors, the whole office seemed to pause for a second. Not completely—but just enough for me to feel it. A few heads turned. Some people blinked like they were trying to place me. Others just looked me over with quick, curious glances before getting back to their screens.

James was the first to speak. He leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised.

“Whoa… Derek?” His tone was a mix of shock and disbelief, like he didn’t know if he should laugh or say something nice.

Before I could respond, Camille appeared beside the copier, giving me an approving smile. “You look gorgeous. New look?”

“Something like that,” I said, my voice softer than usual but steady.

One of the interns whispered to another, not so quietly, “I didn’t even recognize him at first.”

The comments rolled in sporadically—some polite, some teasing, and some just stunned silence. But what surprised me most was that no one seemed outright cruel this time.

By the time I reached my desk, Camille had walked over with a warm grin and set a small coffee in front of me.

“On the house,” she said. “And for what it’s worth—you are totally pulling this off.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks.” But inside, my heart was still racing. I didn’t know yet if I was surviving the moment… or owning it.

As I settled into my chair, I started realizing the looks I was getting weren’t just about my new appearance. They were concerned. People weren’t avoiding eye contact—they were searching for it.

A couple of coworkers even stopped by my desk, each with the same careful tone.

“Hey, how are you feeling? We were all really worried after… you know.”

“Is everything okay now? That was scary at the party.”

Even James, who’d spent weeks teasing me, leaned against my desk with an unusually serious expression.

“Look, man—uh, I mean—look, Derek, I didn’t mean any of the crap I said before. We were all freaked out when you collapsed.”

It caught me off guard. I’d walked in expecting to be judged for my appearance, but instead, they seemed more focused on whether I was okay.

Camille popped her head over the cubicle wall. “If you feel off today, just take it easy, okay? You scared the hell out of everyone.”

I nodded, trying to smile. “Thanks. I’m… alright. Just trying to get back to normal.”

When noon rolled around, James gave me a little wave from his usual spot near the vending machines. But I hesitated.

Across the break room, Camille was sitting with two other women from accounting, all chatting over salads and sandwiches. She caught my eye and gestured to the empty chair beside her.

I took a breath and walked over.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Camille said warmly, sliding her notebook out of the way. “We were just talking about the beach trip.”

The conversation was light—vacation plans, favorite brunch spots, a new boutique one of them had visited. I didn’t say much at first, just listened, but every now and then someone would turn to me directly.

“You’d look great in a wrap dress,” one of them said, after a story about shopping.

Camille nodded. “And those shoes you wore today? They totally work with that idea.”

It felt so strange, being included in these little fashion side-notes like it was second nature. No teasing, no awkward pauses—just… part of the group.

I glanced over at James’s table once, and he was watching us with a half-smile, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite figure me out. By the time lunch was over, I realized I’d been smiling the whole time.

Around mid-afternoon, my phone buzzed on the desk. I almost ignored it, thinking it was another gym reminder or a group chat notification, but the name on the screen made my stomach flip.

Brad.

I hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

“Derek,” his voice came through warm, but with an edge of concern. “I heard what happened at the party. You collapsed, ended up in the hospital… and nobody told me until yesterday.”

I shifted in my chair. “Yeah. It was… a thing. I’m okay now.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed. “Because I’ve been thinking about you all week. I’d really like to see you—today, if possible. Just to talk, make sure you’re alright.”

The way he said it made it sound less like a suggestion and more like he wasn't going to let me get out of it.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s been a weird day.”

“All the more reason,” he said. “I’ll meet you somewhere close to your place after work. Coffee or dinner—your choice.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the navy dress I was wearing. “Alright. After work.”

“Good,” he said softly. “I’ll text you the spot.”

When the call ended, I realized my palms were damp.

Later that day at the office, I was sorting through reports when James strolled past my desk, coffee in hand. He slowed down, leaning against the partition like he had something on his mind.

“I don’t know where it came from,” he started with a little chuckle, “but… you look so beautiful in that dress.”

I froze, my pen still in my hand. “What?”

He shrugged, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “I’m serious. You’ve always been easy to talk to, but now… I don’t know. You’re—” he hesitated, his eyes flicking down and back up, “—attractive. And I feel something for you.”

My stomach just dropped.

“James…” I managed, my voice low. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe that was me covering something up. But seeing you now, I can’t pretend I don’t notice anymore.”

I just sat there, stunned, not sure whether to laugh, get angry, or run away. He gave me a small, almost nervous smile, then walked away, leaving me with my heart racing and my mind spinning.

For the next twenty minutes, I barely touched the reports on my desk. James’s words kept replaying in my head, each one hitting a little harder. It didn’t make sense—coming from him, of all people. The same guy who’d teased me nonstop when my look first started changing.

Finally, I pushed my chair back and wandered to the break room. Camille was there alone, stirring sugar into her tea.

“You okay?” she asked as soon as she saw my face.

“Not really,” I admitted, leaning on the counter. “James just said something to me, and… I have no idea what to do with it.”

Her brows furrowed. “What kind of something?”

I hesitated, then just blurted, “He told me I look beautiful. Attractive. And that he… feels something for me.”

Camille blinked, then let out a short laugh—not mocking, but more like, 'wow, really?' “Wow. That’s a total turnaround.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I don’t even know if he’s serious or just messing with me again.”

Camille set her cup down and looked me straight in the eye. “From the way you’re telling it, I think he’s serious. But the real question is—how do you feel about it?”

I stared down at the tiled floor. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

She reached over and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Then don’t decide right now. Just… let yourself think about it. You’ve had a lot thrown at you lately.”

I nodded, grateful for her calmness. But even as I walked back to my desk, her words and James’s kept tangling together in my head. By the time the workday ended, I’d barely touched my to-do list. Every time I tried to focus, James’s words crept back in—his voice!

I shook my head as I grabbed my bag. This wasn’t the time. Brad was waiting.

The sun was low when I stepped outside, the warm light catching on the navy dress I still hadn’t changed out of. I’d thought about swapping into something more casual, but in the end, I just kept it on. The walk to the coffee shop Brad had picked was short, but it felt longer with my thoughts pulling me in two directions.

James thinks I’m attractive.

Brad wants to make sure I’m okay.

What do I want?

When I spotted Brad through the shop’s front window, he was already standing, his face breaking into a smile the moment he saw me. He waved me over like we were old friends meeting after forever. As I reached for the door handle, my reflection caught in the glass. For just a second, I saw the woman my sister had helped me create this morning—hair curled, makeup subtle, dress fitted—and I realized… James wasn’t wrong.

That thought stayed with me as I stepped inside to face Brad.