The Ashmore Lady

Chapter 7: Two Year Pause

"You think when you make a deal like that, you'll just pick up the pieces when it's over. Like you can pause your life and hit play again whenever you're ready, But after two years of living a lie, you start to wonder—maybe the real you is what gets lost."

Two years.

That's how long it had been since I stopped being Simon. Two years of playing the role of Madeline, dressing, talking, living as someone I wasn't. And in that time, I hadn't just lost track of who I was—I'd lost hope that I could ever go back.

It was John's wife's baby shower. Another baby boy for the family. Another reminder of how life kept moving forward for everyone else, while mine had come to a grinding halt. Everyone was laughing, congratulating, passing around presents for the baby-to-be. I should've been happy for them—happy for my family. But all I could think about was the life I'd been forced to put on hold.

I stood in the corner of the room, watching as John's wife basked in the joy of impending parenthood. She built a life, a future. Meanwhile, I felt like a ghost in my own skin. Invisible, irrelevant.

It wasn't just that I'd been cast aside. It was that I'd been asked—no, expected—to give up everything for them. Two years of my life wasted. Two years I'd never get back. I couldn't help but feel the bitterness rising in my throat.

Why was my life the one that had to be put on hold?

I glanced down at myself, at the dress my mother had insisted I wear, at my perfectly manicured hands gracefully positioned on my crossed legs. This was who I was now, the woman they'd molded me into. And the worst part? It didn't feel temporary anymore. It was becoming permanent. The more time that passed, the more they forgot I'd ever been Simon. Even I was starting to forget.

I'd gone through the motions for so long, trying to keep the peace, to make things easier for everyone. But with each passing day, I felt my resentment building. Every look from my brothers, every conversation where I was treated as just another member of the family—another daughter, another sister—felt like a betrayal. Like they had all conspired to erase Simon from existence.

"Madeline, could you help with this?" my mother called, breaking through my thoughts.

I forced a smile and moved toward the kitchen, where she and the other women were preparing food. They were all talking about the baby, about the joy of motherhood, about how John and his wife were already picking out names. The whole scene was picture-perfect, like something out of a magazine. And I hated it.

I hated how easy it was for them to pretend everything was normal.

"Madeline, dear, can you pass me the silverware?" my mother asked again, a bright smile on her face.

I handed it over without a word, biting my tongue to keep from snapping. Every time they called me Madeline, every time they acted like this was just who I was now, it felt like a knife twisting deeper in my chest. How had I let it get this far? How had I allowed myself to become this... thing?

I could hear the women laughing, talking about children and husbands, about the future. A future I was supposed to be a part of but couldn't even recognize anymore.

As the baby shower went on, I found myself retreating further into the background, slipping out of the house to escape the noise. I sat down on the back porch, staring out at the garden, and for the first time in a long while, I let myself really think about Simon. About the person I used to be, the plans I used to have.

I had dreams once. I had my own future to look forward to. But I'd given all of that up—for what? For a family that barely acknowledged the sacrifice anymore? For an inheritance that felt less and less like it was worth the cost?

I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the unfamiliar waves, the soft strands that used to be short and boyish. I looked down at my body, the breasts that now felt like they belonged to someone else, the curves that had replaced the angles of my former self. It wasn't just the way I looked. It was the way I felt. Like I'd been shoved into a role I never asked for, and now there was no way out.

The thought that haunted me the most was the one I didn't want to admit: what if there wasn't a way back? What if I was Madeline now? Not because I wanted to be, but because I had no choice. I had been pretending for so long, I couldn't even remember what it felt like to be Simon anymore.

And the worst part was, I wasn't sure anyone in my family even cared.

"They always said it was temporary, that things would go back to normal when it was all over," they say quietly, the weight of those words still heavy in their chest. "But after two years of pretending, one starts to wonder... maybe there is no going back. Maybe the person one was is gone for good."