Mirror Image

Chapter 6

As they walked back to the kitchen, Emma couldn't help but watch John more closely. His movements had taken on an odd elegance, a fluidity she couldn't recall ever seeing before. There was something almost... deliberate in the way he carried himself now, as though every step, every gesture had been carefully considered.

She shook off the thought, chalking it up to her imagination, and grabbed her keys from the counter. John followed suit, and together, they headed out to the car.

The crisp morning air greeted them, and Emma unlocked the car with a quick press of a button. She climbed into the driver's seat, her thoughts elsewhere, until her peripheral vision caught John sliding into the passenger side.

Her fingers froze on the ignition.

John was sitting with his legs pressed neatly together, his hands resting delicately on his lap. His posture was upright, composed—eerily unlike the John she'd known who used to sprawl out as though he owned every inch of space around him.

But that wasn't what really caught her attention.

With his androgynous clothes and neat posture, Emma couldn't help but notice how much John resembled her. Their facial features shared a certain symmetry—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and a faint sharpness in their jawlines. Emma thought, he could easily pass as her twin brother—or maybe, with the right lighting and from the right angle, even a tomboy version of her, like a twin sister if it weren't for his masculine voice.

Her gaze drifted to his arms, where the long sleeves of his shirt obscured most of his skin. The faintest trace of hair peeked out at his wrists, but it was so fine and sparse it barely registered. His legs, covered in pants, showed no obvious signs of masculinity either. And his face—well, John had never been particularly rugged. Without any facial hair, his features leaned toward soft, almost delicate.

What in the world is going on with him?

Emma turned back to the steering wheel, trying to focus, but her thoughts spiraled.

First the way he walks—like he's on a runway. Then the sitting. Now this. He could pass for a version of me! What is happening to him?

Her stomach twisted as a bizarre thought crept in. Could this be because of... no, that's impossible. Or... does he actually want to be a woman

The idea was ridiculous—or was it?

She bit her lip, replaying the past few days in her mind. Every little thing added up to something she couldn't quite grasp.

The way he had fixed his nonexistent hair before bed, the time he took selecting clothes, the odd delicacy in his mannerisms—it all seemed too consistent to be random.

Her gaze flicked sideways again as they paused at a red light. John was looking out the window, his hands still resting lightly on his lap, fingers occasionally twitching in a strangely controlled way. He seemed utterly unaware of the image he presented.

Does he even realize how... different he's acting?

She caught herself staring and quickly looked away, her heart pounding.

As the car cruised down the road, Emma couldn't help but overanalyze. If John was trying to send a message—whether intentionally or not—what could it be?

Maybe it's not intentional. What if this is something he's been feeling for a while?

She didn't want to jump to conclusions, but the idea planted itself firmly in her mind. She thought about the way John had so easily accepted the clothes she gave him earlier. Even though they were hers—loose, androgynous, but undeniably feminine—he hadn't hesitated. If anything, he'd worn them with a strange comfort, as though he didn't even notice.

And now he looks like he could be my twin. Or... with a bit of a makeover, maybe even my twin sister.

Emma swallowed hard, gripping the wheel tighter.

The thought was startling, but not entirely unwelcome. If John wanted to change—if this was something real for him—she wouldn't judge. But she had to be sure.

No, I need to observe him more. I can't just ask. What if I'm wrong?

She decided then and there to spend the day watching him carefully. If there was a truth to uncover, she would find it.

By the time they pulled into the mall parking lot, Emma had resolved to figure things out subtly. She parked the car and unbuckled her seatbelt, watching out of the corner of her eye as John stepped out.

Again, there was that fluid motion, the way he adjusted his shirt at the hem, smoothing it out with practiced precision.

Alright, John. If you're trying to tell me something, even unintentionally, I'm going to figure it out.

She smiled faintly as they walked toward the mall entrance, the morning sun casting long shadows across the pavement.

"Let's make this a productive day," she said casually, keeping her tone light.

John nodded, his expression serene. "Sounds good."

As they stepped inside, Emma's gaze lingered on his posture, his movements, the way he carried himself with a grace that felt entirely new. She wasn't sure what to expect from the day, but one thing was certain: John was different now. And whether he realized it or not, Emma was determined to get to the bottom of it.