Her life! GxG! Intersex! (Book 1)

145

Outside the tall windows, the city lights shimmered like distant stars, the hum of traffic below blending with the faint echo of the wind.

Abigail leaned back in her chair, her plate empty but her heart full. Across from her, Emma sat barefoot on the counter again, the hem of her oversized T-shirt brushing against her thighs, a lazy smile curving her lips. The blush roses Abigail had brought home earlier rested in a vase between them, their petals half-open under the glow of the kitchen lights.

"Dinner was amazing," Emma said softly, picking at the edge of her plate. "I swear, you could open your own restaurant if you wanted to."

Abigail laughed quietly, shaking her head as she stood to rinse the dishes. "You say that every time I cook."

"That's because it's true," Emma replied, hopping down from the counter and coming to stand beside her. She reached for a towel and started drying the dishes as Abigail washed. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, the rhythm of their movement as natural as breathing.

For a moment, there was only the sound of running water, soft music from the speaker, and the quiet intimacy of two people moving in sync.

Then Abigail spoke, her voice gentle. "You know that song I told you about earlier? The one I've been working on?"

Emma glanced over, her curiosity sparking immediately. "Yeah the one you said was kind of soft, like me?"

Abigail smiled, setting the last dish in the rack. "That's the one."

Emma leaned against the counter, crossing her arms loosely. "Did you finish it?"

"Almost," Abigail said, drying her hands. "But... I've been wanting to play it for you. Just once, before I start tweaking things."

Emma's expression softened, her voice lowering. "You wrote me a song?"

Abigail hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking down shyly before she met Emma's gaze again. "Not just you. You and the baby."

The words hung in the air tender, heavy in the best way. Emma's lips parted slightly, her eyes glistening. "Play it for me," she said quietly. "Please."

Abigail smiled, her heart fluttering at the way Emma's voice wrapped around that word. "Alright."

She grabbed her guitar from its stand near the living room, settling onto the couch. Emma followed and sat beside her, tucking her legs underneath herself, watching every movement like it mattered. Abigail's fingers brushed lightly over the strings, tuning by ear, until the notes came out smooth and clear.

The first chord filled the air soft, melodic, the kind of sound that instantly settled something deep inside them both. Abigail took a breath and began to play.

It wasn't a love song in the traditional sense. It was something quieter, more intimate a song that felt like a heartbeat. The rhythm matched the pulse of something steady and safe, like the warmth of home, the hush of morning, the whisper of skin against skin.

The melody rose gently, winding around the soft thrum of her guitar. Abigail's voice came next low, raw, and full of feeling.

It wasn't polished yet. She didn't need it to be. Every word, every note carried the weight of what she felt: the tenderness, the hope, the fear, the joy.

"You're the calm in my storm,
The breath when I can't find air.
The reason I keep playing,
The peace I didn't know was there.
And when the world feels too heavy,
You remind me what love can do.
Because somehow every song,
Always leads back to you."