I stormed into my parents’ room and shut the door.
The silence in the room echoed my heavy breaths as I leaned against the door, heart pounding furiously in my chest. For a moment, I let the confrontation with Mom replay in my mind—a whirlwind of emotions, accusations, and hard truths.
I couldn’t deny that a part of me felt guilty for what had just transpired. After all, this was still my mother—she had carried me in her womb, loved and nurtured me throughout my childhood. But another part reveled in the assertion of my newfound identity.
I rolled my shoulders back, letting the weight of the argument slide off me as I paced around the room.
“I am Linda, dammit,” I whispered to myself.
I glanced over at the bedside table where a framed picture of Mom and Dad smiled back at me, their eyes bright with love and hope. A pang of guilt twisted in my gut—the kind that comes from knowing you’ve disrupted something beautiful.
“No more guilt,” I muttered to myself, tightening my fists.
I was Linda now, and I owed it to myself to embrace every aspect of this life. No more second-guessing or feeling pity; I had a future to build, and I wouldn’t let anything hold me back.
I held my wedding band up to the light, “I will be a better version of her than she ever was.”
I slipped it back onto my finger, feeling the cool metal settle comfortably against my skin, a symbol of who I was now and the life I was meant to lead.
With renewed determination, I stepped towards the closet, rummaging through my mother’s clothes. I pulled out some sexy lingerie.
“Let’s see how this fits,” I murmured, setting aside my hesitation as I slid into the intricate fabric, feeling the soft material hug my curves in all the right places. I turned back to the mirror, admiring the reflection that looked more like a woman ready to embrace her life than someone lost in a body swap.
“Damn,” I chuckled softly, “I clean up pretty well.”
The door creaked open just then, and I spun around, surprised to find Dad stepping inside. His eyes widened for a moment, surprise turning quickly to appreciation as they roamed over what I had done.
“Linda?” he asked hesitantly.
“Hey, honey,” I replied, infusing my voice with the warmth and comfort that my mother would naturally project, “What do you think?”
I smiled coyly at my husband, watching as his eyes darkened with desire. I twirled around to show off the lingerie from all angles.
Dad cleared his throat and stepped closer to me, his hands resting on my hips, “You look absolutely stunning, Linda.”
I let my fingers glide down the fabric of the lingerie, “I thought it was time to treat myself… and you.”
I was Linda now, not her. And Linda deserved to be loved and desired by her own husband.
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