Sarah

After shopping, I leave on the new white bra and matching panties right away and also pick up annother pink set. At home, I try both on again at my leisure. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I feel my heart racing as I look at my reflection. The bra—a delicate push-up model made of lace in soft pink—fits my newly discovered curves like a second skin. My fingertips glide over the curved edges, and I marvel at how the fabric seems to caress my skin.
"I can't believe it," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mixture of awe and excitement. "Is that really me?"

The reflection staring back at me bears no resemblance to the Julius of a year ago. The hard edges and flat lines of my body have almost disappeared, replaced by soft curves and seductive shadows. The lingerie has transformed my upper body into something undeniably feminine. I turn to the side and admire how the bra lifts and shapes my delicate breasts, how the Brazilian panties gently push my buttocks apart and accentuate them. A silhouette that I have only admired in biological women until now. A surprised giggle escapes me, and I reflexively cover my mouth with my hand.

"I never thought I would feel this way," I confess to my reflection, my eyes shining with newfound self-acceptance. "It's like I'm really seeing myself for the first time." My hands stroke my sides, enjoying the feel of the smooth fabric against my skin. The bra, along with the pink panties, gives me a feeling of sex appeal and self-confidence that I've never known before.

But then a wave of emotion overwhelms me. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away—I don't want to spoil this perfect moment. "This is who I am," I say with new determination in my voice. "Julius, Julia—what difference does it make? I'm finally learning to love myself. Inside and out." My curiosity is stronger than me. I grab my phone and take a selfie to capture this important moment. I'm just not the depressed, brooding Julius I was a few months ago. There's still a hint of uncertainty in my eyes, but also a new glow – hope and anticipation for what's to come. To test how it will be received, I send Emily the photo of me in my underwear with a simple message: "Guess who this is?" Just as I'm about to put my phone away, a reply flashes up: "Is that my sexy, mysterious colleague Julia? I see you've been shopping! You look stunning, baby. I can't wait to see you in person." With one last, satisfied look at my reflection, I turn away—ready to face the world as the truest version of myself.

The next morning. I know today is going to be a tough day. Because I have a date with my girlfriend Sarah. We've been together for over 3 years and actually wanted to get married. The operation has delayed the whole thing a bit. And I have no idea how to proceed now. Unsure, I stand in front of the mirror and think:

How should I act? But actually, it's clear that there is no alternative to Jules. The clarity of this realization carries me. So I get in the shower, wash my hair again, and dry it. Then I tousle it, just like I did yesterday. I like the slight waves because they emphasize the delicate femininity that has developed in me. Then I put on my panties, hide the little sausage in the middle, and pull on my bra. Then I look at myself in the mirror . "This is you now," says the person I see there.
I take a deep breath as I stand in front of Sarah's apartment door and ring the bell. Nervously, I smooth the front of my new jeans once more. When the door opens, I see Sarah's surprised gaze as she sizes up my body. "Jules, what... what are you wearing?" she asks, her eyes widening as she scans me from head to toe.
Uncomfortably, I shift my weight from one foot to the other and feel the heat rising to my neck. "They're just jeans and a T-shirt, Sarah. I had to buy new clothes after the operation, remember?"

Sarah steps closer, frowns, and looks at the jeans that accentuate my hips and thighs. "But those are women's jeans, right? And you're wearing a bra under that T-shirt. Is that my T-shirt? You look like a woman in that! And look—your hip bones are sticking out. Only girls have that. And in your crotch... there's just nothing there anymore. But you used to have something down there, Julius. Where did it go?"
Her words hit me hard, even though I know she's right. I simply hid and locked away everything that was left of my masculinity in those tight jeans.
"I had ****," I murmur quietly, avoiding her gaze. "Nothing else fit right anymore."

Sarah sighs and touches my arm. "I'm sorry, Jules. I didn't mean it that way. It's just... I have to get used to seeing you like this first."
I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. "I understand. It's still strange for me, too." As we enter the apartment, I can't help but be aware of every detail: how the tight jeans accentuate my new curves, how my hips move, how my butt curves. All things that were foreign to me before.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and pause. The face staring back at me is both familiar and foreign—a mixture of Julius and Jules that I can't quite reconcile yet.

Sarah comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. "You look beautiful," she whispers, resting her chin on my shoulder. "Different, but beautiful."

I lean back into her embrace and close my eyes, trying to internalize her words. Beautiful. A word I would never have associated with myself. But as I stand here in her arms, I wonder—could there be some truth to it?
I turn to Sarah and search her eyes for uncertainty. "Do you really mean that?" I ask, my voice breaking in a way that surprises even me.

Sarah reaches out and gently strokes my cheek. "Yes, I do," she says firmly. "I know everything is new and unfamiliar. But I'm with you every step of the way."
Her words trigger a flood of emotions in me. Gratitude, relief. I blink away the tears welling up and smile shakily. "Thank you," I whisper, resting my forehead against hers. "I don't know what I would do without you."

We stand there for a long time until Sarah finally breaks away, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Come on," she says, pulling me into the bedroom. "Take off your jeans and make yourself comfortable."
But I hesitate. "No, I don't want to." She looks at me in surprise. "What's the problem?" I don't dare tell her that I'm also wearing girls' panties. And I don't want to suddenly be standing there in sweatpants, as if I were still a man. That time is over. And sex with Sarah as a man is also out of the question for me now.
Sarah sits down on the bed, annoyed. "What do you want then, Julius?"

"I don't know exactly what I want," I reply. Then I catch my gaze in the mirror—and realize that I actually do know.
"Do you really want to go through with this? To live as a woman?"
"Yes... maybe," I reply uncertainly.
"I don't think I can do this," says Sarah. "I can't be with a woman. When I look at you, I can hardly see Julius anymore."
"Yes," I agree. "It's a time of change. Maybe I should go." I turn around, put my blazer back on, and leave the apartment. I just leave Sarah sitting on the bed.

After that, we don't see each other for two or three weeks. I am lost in my thoughts. Is this really what I want? To live as a woman? When I look at myself in the mirror in my new underwear, it feels right. But Sarah's words echo in my mind and sow seeds of doubt.
Finally, I decide to travel to Italy for maybe two or three months. To find out what I really want.