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Weeks go by as Dee and you deepen your relationship. She meets your parents, who are baffled at your choice, but soon warm up to the charming, self-actualized woman.

You meet her mom at least, who makes you promise to take good care of her daughter.

Soon enough, the two of you are plastered all over social media. LGBTQ+ outlets hail you as an example to follow. A proud, black man, not afraid to be seen with his famous trans-woman in restaurants, clubs and at sport events.

You don't give a fuck about what they say. As far as you're concerned, only Dee counts. You're not about to do any marches, or give interviews to blue haired, nose-ringed activists or some shit.

You walk out into the night air, to Dee. She's standing on the hotel balcony, overlooking the lights of Paris, while sipping on a glass of champagne. Her red, flowing dress looks divine against her tan skin.

Hugging her from behind, you press her body against your rock-hard pecs. "Hmmm.", she hums, and takes another sip. "Hey there big bear."

You reach out, to her hand holding the glass. Feeling across the diamond-studded ring, while she regards the ring adorning your own hand.

On their insides is a date engraved. That of today.

It was a small ceremony, with only close friends and family invited. Of course the media still somehow managed to get some blurry photos onto their sites, but all in all it was as private as you could manage.

"How about we head back in?", you ask as you kiss her neck. Dee turns around and cups your chin, kissing you once more before sashaying inside, towards the large bed.