The hours passed in a blur of fast-paced matches. The sound of tanks rumbling, cannons firing, and explosions rattling through the speakers filled the room. Diana was so focused on the game that time seemed to slip by unnoticed—until she glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen.
It was almost 4 p.m.
The sun had begun its slow descent, its light filtering in through the window, casting long shadows but still bright. Carmine would be home in a couple of hours, around 6 p.m., the usual time when the house would stop being so quiet. There wasn't much time left before the day changed its tone.
Diana leaned back in her chair, rolling it away from the desk, and stretched her arms above her head. Her muscles ached from sitting still for so long, and she could feel a light sheen of sweat on her skin from the intensity of their matches.
"I'm gonna take a shower," she said, glancing over at Daniel.
Daniel looked up from his phone, his eyes still a bit unfocused from the long gaming session. "Okay," he replied, his voice quiet but clear. He gave a small nod before returning to the screen.
Pushing herself up from the chair, Diana left the room, her footsteps soft as she walked down the hallway. She reached for the pull-down stairs that led to the attic, tugging them down with a quiet creak. The wooden steps unfolded stiffly, resisting slightly as they dropped into place, and she climbed up to grab the clean clothes she'd need.
Once she had a fresh set of clothes, she headed to the bathroom.
The soft whirring of the bathroom fan greeted her as she stepped inside and locked the door with a click. She paused for a moment, her gaze settling on the mirror above the sink. Her reflection stared back at her, but this time, something felt different.
She undressed slowly, her movements unhurried. As the pile of clothes formed at her feet, she scooped them up and placed them in the clothing bin. While doing so, she caught a glimpse of her form in the peripheral vision—two curvatures that were new yet familiar. A flicker of unease passed through her, but she didn't panic. That in itself was a small victory.
She positioned herself in front of the mirror, her eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, she opened them slowly, her reflection coming into focus in pieces. First, her eyes, then her mouth, her neck, her shoulders—and then the rest.
Her gaze lingered on her face for a moment. The eyes were the same. She focused on them a second longer—the one part of her that hadn't changed. They were Daniel's eyes, carrying the same weight of memory, the same thoughts. Maybe that was the most familiar thing of all—the feeling that she was still herself, somehow.
Her gaze drifted down, her body a landscape that felt both foreign and oddly intimate. For a split second, an image of Daniel's reflection flashed in her mind—broad shoulders, sharp jawline, the feel of rough stubble under his hand—but now, all of that seemed distant. She shook the thought away, not in rejection, but in acceptance of this new form. It wasn't bad, just...different.
She coughed slightly, a surge of awkwardness tightening her chest. "Why do I look like that?" she murmured under her breath, a small, bewildered smile creeping onto her face as if to laugh at her own discomfort.
It was, in fact, Diana's first time truly looking at what lay between a woman's legs. In class, she'd always thought it indecent to even glance at those parts; her eyes had skipped over any such illustrations in textbooks as though trained not to see them. But now, the novelty of the sight – both familiar and strange – made her feel an odd mix of curiosity and embarrassment, as if she were breaching an unspoken rule she'd lived by her whole life.
She looked away from the mirror, feeling the tension ease. It wasn't complete acceptance, but there was a flicker of recognition—a quiet sense that, somehow, she was still herself.
Turning away, she stepped into the shower. The warm water hit her skin, cascading down in steady streams, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the sound of the water fill the small space. It was calming, the soft thrum of water hitting the tiles a soothing rhythm that seemed to ease her mind.
She reached for the shampoo, squeezing a small amount into her palm before working it into her hair. The familiar scent of the shampoo filled the air as the lather built up in thick foam, spreading through her dark strands. Diana massaged her scalp slowly, feeling the tension ease as the suds washed away under the warm stream.
Once her hair was rinsed, Diana paused, staring at the bottle of body wash. There was a moment of hesitation—her fingers resting on the cap, her thoughts quiet but present. She poured a bit of the soap into her hands, and at first, her movements were slow, tentative.
As she lathered her upper body, her hands moved carefully, almost testing the waters of her own thoughts. Her palms smoothed over her shoulders, then down her arms and across her chest. The sensation was unfamiliar—soft, round where once there had been sharp angles—but the awkwardness had faded into something more neutral.
Her hands lingered for a moment over the curves of her hips, a shape unfamiliar yet familiar at once, as if her body remembered before her mind could catch up. She didn't feel ownership just yet, but with each passing second, it felt less like foreign territory and more like home.
She rinsed the soap off, feeling the warmth of the water wash away the last of the tension. As she moved to wash her legs, her hands became steadier. The hesitation from earlier was gone, replaced by a growing sense of comfort, more certainty. The soap and water became a cleansing ritual, not just for her body, but for the disjointed feeling that had lingered since she'd first looked in the mirror.
When she finally turned off the water, the sudden quiet in the bathroom was almost startling. She reached for the towel hanging by the door and began to dry herself, rubbing the soft fabric over her skin. The steam from the shower still lingered in the air, thick and warm, fogging up the mirror completely.
She dried her hair, running the towel through the damp strands until most of the water was gone. Once she was dry, she slipped into the fresh clothes she had brought with her, the clean fabric warm and soft against her skin. Her body felt lighter, refreshed, as if the shower had washed away more than just the sweat and grime of the day.
She stood there for a moment, feeling the calm in the air. The bathroom was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the fan overhead. Her hair, still slightly damp, brushed against the back of her neck as she took one last glance at the mirror. Though she couldn't see herself through the fogged glass, something inside her felt more settled, more at ease.
Unlocking the door, Diana stepped out of the bathroom, the warm steam following her as she entered the hallway. The house was still quiet, the hum of the bathroom fan fading into the background as the day continued its slow descent toward evening.