The day of departure finally arrived, and I left everything behind, embarking on a journey to start anew. I moved in with Henry, who had been my rock throughout this transformative process. As I settled into my new life, I knew I had to maintain the illusion - to convince everyone around me that I was, in fact, a woman. It was a daunting task, but I was determined to make it work. I had just turned twenty, and as I looked in the mirror, I saw a person I had never seen before - a person I was still getting to know. But I was ready to take on this new chapter, to embrace this new identity, and to see where life would take me.
With my new life underway, there was only one remaining step to complete my transition: bottom surgery. But first, I had to achieve my next goal - marrying Henry. This was crucial, as it would allow me to be included in his insurance, making the costly surgery finally within reach. I knew it was a practical move, but it was also a symbolic one - a chance to solidify my commitment to Henry and myself. I was ready to take this next step, to formalize our love and our partnership, and to move closer to finally feeling whole.
"I vividly recall the first time I stepped into Henry's family home, wearing an elegant long dress. His parents beamed with joy, thrilled that their son had finally found a partner. We set a date for the wedding, and they asked why I hadn't invited my own family. I repeated the story I had concocted - that I was an orphan. I kept my true identity and past a secret, hidden behind a mask of confidence and poise. Only I knew the truth, and I intended to keep it that way. Henry's family welcomed me with open arms, unaware of the journey that had brought me to their doorstep.
"Henry's family tried to respect my African heritage by keeping us apart until the wedding, suggesting I share a room with his sisters. But I was resolute in my refusal, fearing they might discover my secret. I still had my penis, and the thought of them seeing me naked filled me with anxiety. So, I asked for a separate room, ensuring my privacy and safety. I was vigilant, always mindful of situations like using the bathroom, making sure to avoid any potentially revealing moments. Only Henry knew my truth, and I intended to keep it that way until I could undergo the surgery that would finally align my body with my identity.
Despite my initial fears and precautions, Henry's family made me feel incredibly welcome and accepted. They were warm and gracious, eager to include me in their lives. They even took me on a tour of Atlanta, showing me the city they called home. As we explored the streets and landmarks, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn't expected. Their kindness and generosity helped me feel more at ease, and I began to see them as a potential source of support and love in my new life. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was part of a family that truly accepted me for who I was.