Clara Damage Control

You lean forward, the sheet pooling around your waist—your male waist now—and reach toward Clara who instinctively pulls back. The gesture stings, but you understand. Everything has changed in an instant.

"Clara, I need you to know something," you begin, your voice deeper and unfamiliar after days speaking in Mia's lilting tones. "I tried explaining before. I really did. Remember our conversation about soul mates? About loving someone regardless of their exterior?"

Clara's eyes narrow slightly, recognition flickering across her features. "At the restaurant," she says quietly.

"Yes," you continue, emboldened. "I am still that same person you connected with. Everything Mia felt, every conversation we had, every moment we shared—that was all real. I am and have always been Matt. This—" you gesture to your body, "—is my true self. But the person inside never changed."

David sits up straighter, watching this exchange with uncharacteristic silence. His expression is unreadable, caught somewhere between fascination and discomfort.

Clara pulls her knees to her chest, creating a physical barrier between you. "So when we..." she trails off, unable to finish the thought.

"It was real," you assure her. "All of it. My feelings for you are genuine, despite how bizarre this situation is."

She studies your face—the same eyes, she realizes, just set in different features. "I don't even know how to process this, Matt," she says, testing your name on her tongue. "One minute I'm with Mia, and the next..."

"I understand if you need time," you say. "This is a lot."

To your surprise, Clara reaches out tentatively and touches your face, tracing the stronger jawline, the broader planes. Her touch sends a different kind of shiver through you—familiar yet new.

"You're right," she says softly. "I do see her—you—in there. It's in the way you look at me."

David clears his throat. "I think I'll give you two some privacy," he says, rising from the bed. He grabs a pair of boxers from a drawer and pulls them on before heading toward the door. "For what it's worth," he adds, pausing at the threshold, "I'm glad you're back, Matt."

After he leaves, Clara shifts closer, her initial shock subsiding into cautious curiosity. "So, everything you experienced as Mia..."

"I remember all of it," you confirm. "Every sensation, every emotion."

She bites her lip, processing. "And what you feel for me?"

"That hasn't changed," you say firmly. "Though I understand if your feelings have."

To your surprise, Clara laughs—a short, bewildered sound. "I always said I fall for the person, not the packaging," she says, shaking her head in disbelief. "Guess the universe decided to test that theory."

She leans in, her fingers still exploring the contours of your face. "I need time to adjust to this, obviously. But... I'm not running away."

The relief that floods through you is overwhelming. She hasn't rejected you outright. There's a chance—however complicated—for something real to continue.

"Thank you," you whisper, and Clara offers a small, tentative smile that holds both uncertainty and possibility.

03:00 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | David's Bedroom