The crowd spilled out of the English hall in clusters—bags slung over shoulders, conversations half-finished, ughter echoing across the brick courtyard. Hazel stood still, letting the tide pass around her.

  Then, she saw her.

  Stel emerged mid-ugh, fnked by two friends—a tall, curly-haired boy with a nyard hanging from his jeans, and a short girl with pink braids and oversized headphones around her neck. The moment Stel’s eyes met Hazel’s, her steps slowed, smile softening.

  Hazel lifted a hand in a gentle wave.

  Stel lit up, waving back.

  The two friends, however, stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide. Hazel could feel the shift like a ripple in the air—the boy’s curiosity, the girl’s sudden discomfort.

  Their gazes moved over Hazel like a puzzle they couldn’t quite solve. Recognition danced behind their expressions, but they didn’t know where to pce it.

  “That’s your…” the pink-haired girl started, voice uncertain.

  “Hazel,” Stel supplied easily, stepping forward. “She’s my sister.”

  Hazel smiled warmly. “Hello.”

  The boy blinked. “Uh… hi.”

  Hazel didn’t flinch. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her expression pleasant, composed. “Stel, are you finished for the day? I thought I’d walk you home.”

  The girl in braids was still staring. “I mean… wow. You look—um—”

  “Different?” Hazel offered smoothly.

  “No! I mean, yes, but—not in a bad way! Just… different.”

  Hazel chuckled, the sound light and low. “That tends to happen after a life-altering fever.”

  That broke the tension enough for the boy to ugh nervously and rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, totally. Same thing happened to my cousin with mono.”

  “I doubt it,” Hazel replied, her tone teasing, but kind.

  Stel, already at her side, bumped her shoulder lightly. “Ready?”

  Hazel nodded. “Of course.”

  As they turned to walk, Hazel gave a polite smile to the two still-staring friends. “Nice meeting you both.”

  “Y-yeah,” the girl mumbled. “You too.”

  Hazel and Stel moved away, the younger girl falling into step beside her, casting a sideways gnce up at her sister. “You handled that pretty well.”

  “I’m getting a lot of practice,” Hazel said, voice calm.

  “Still,” Stel grinned, “you were like… scary nice.”

  Hazel arched a brow, smiling faintly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The sounds of the college faded behind them as they walked through the quieter streets leading home.

  Hazel’s pace was steady, unhurried, her long coat trailing softly behind her. Stel matched her steps, casting curious gnces up at her every few feet.

  “You’re really different,” she said finally. “Not just how you look, I mean.”

  Hazel kept her eyes ahead but tilted her head slightly, acknowledging it. “Yes. I know.”

  “Are you… okay with it?”

  The question lingered for a moment. Hazel considered it, the wind brushing through her bck hair, the sun warm against skin that never quite seemed to hold its heat anymore.

  “I didn’t get a choice,” she said. “But I’ve stopped seeing it as a curse. And if I’m being honest—sometimes it feels like I’ve simply become who I was meant to be. Or… a version of it.”

  Stel was quiet for a few steps, then gnced at Hazel again. “It’s weird. You sound like him. You are him. But also not.”

  Hazel smiled softly. “I know.”

  “You even walk like you’ve always been like this. It’s kind of intimidating.”

  “I’m still your sibling,” Hazel said gently. “You don’t need to be intimidated.”

  “You carry yourself like a vilin in a movie,” Stel ughed. “But a nice one.”

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. “I’ll add that to my résumé.”

  They turned a corner, the neighborhood quiet and familiar. Trees rustled overhead, and somewhere down the block, someone was mowing a wn. For all the change Hazel carried in her blood and bones, the world itself had barely blinked.

  “Mom’s going to ask a lot of questions,” Stel said, tugging her bag higher on her shoulder. “When she sees you like this.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Hazel gnced at her sister, then smiled. “I’m not pnning to lie. But I’m not pnning to expin everything, either.”

  “You think she’ll notice?”

  Hazel let out a breath. “Stel… I changed sex. I think she might.”

  Stel burst out ughing, and Hazel couldn’t help but smile too.

  For a moment, the weight of secrets, of strange instincts and slow heartbeats, lifted.

  They turned up the path to their front door. Hazel reached for her key, her movements as graceful as if she were still gliding across a dream. The sun dipped lower, casting warm golden hues over the quiet street.

  Hazel paused at the door.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?” Stel asked, tilting her head.

  “For being the one thing that still feels like home.”

  The door clicked shut behind them, and the familiar scent of the house welcomed them back—vender air freshener, warm wood floors, and the faintest hint of leftover coffee.

  Hazel slid her coat from her shoulders and hung it by the door, then gracefully padded barefoot toward the kitchen.

  Stel flopped onto the couch, tossing her bag beside her and letting out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, I forgot I have a quiz on Wednesday.”

  “You’ll manage,” Hazel called, filling a gss of water and joining her in the living room. She perched on the armrest beside Stel with the same practiced elegance that marked all her movements now. “You always do.”

  Stel looked up at her. “You're still weirdly calm about everything. Even the stuff with school, or Mom visiting, or people staring at you like you’re some sort of dark goddess.”

  Hazel smiled faintly. “I’ve had two weeks to adjust.”

  Stel raised an eyebrow. “Two weeks isn’t enough to adjust to this.”

  Hazel exhaled slowly, eyes briefly distant. “No. But I met someone today.”

  Stel perked up. “Oh? Like, met-met?”

  “Not like that,” Hazel said, amused. “Her name’s Alex. She’s like me.”

  Stel sat up straighter. “Another infected person?”

  Hazel nodded. “She approached me at a café. We didn’t say it aloud, but I could tell what she was. Slower heartbeat. That scent. We both knew.”

  “What was she like?”

  Hazel’s expression softened slightly. “Confident. A little guarded. She told me her family disowned her when she changed—they were religious, thought she was possessed.”

  “That’s awful,” Stel whispered.

  “She’s been on her own. No mentors, no answers—just instincts and trial and error. I think she reached out to me because... she didn’t want to be alone in it anymore.”

  Stel looked down, thoughtful. “You’re lucky. You have me.”

  “I know,” Hazel said quietly. “That’s why I won’t keep secrets from you.”

  There was a short silence, thick with unspoken questions, then Stel nodded. “So… is she a friend now?”

  “I think so,” Hazel said. “We exchanged numbers. I told her I’d see her again.”

  Hazel stood, brushing a hand gently through Stel’s messy blond hair.

  “Tomorrow will be busy,” she said softly. “Mom's going to ask questions neither of us is ready for.”

  Stel flopped back on the couch. “Then we lie creatively.”

  Hazel chuckled, already turning toward the hallway. “Get some rest. I’ll heat dinner.”

  As she moved away, her shadow stretched across the living room wall—tall, composed, unmistakably something no longer human… and yet, still undeniably Hazel.

  The kitchen lights cast a warm glow as the day faded into a dusky calm. Hazel stood at the counter, hands idle on a pot that simmered for the scent alone.

  Cooking had become more about habit than need—an echo of who she had been, or maybe who she still tried to be for Stel’s sake.

  The doorframe creaked softly behind her. “Hazel?” Stel’s voice was hesitant, but not timid.

  Hazel didn’t turn around. “Hmm?”

  Stel fidgeted, barefoot on the cool tile. “You said you’d heat dinner.”

  “I did.”

  “Well... aren’t you going to call Alex?” she asked, arms crossed. “You know. So you’re not just sitting here pretending food matters.”

  Hazel arched an eyebrow as she turned, leaning slightly against the counter. “You’re curious.”

  Stel’s cheeks flushed. “Of course I’m curious. She’s like you. Which means she’s not like me. And I want to know what that means for us.”

  Hazel tilted her head, considering her sister for a moment. Then she smiled—slow and razor-smooth. “Stel,” she said, stepping closer, “if I invited Alex for dinner, you do realize you would be the one on the menu.”

  Stel’s face went bright red. “Th-that’s not funny!”

  Hazel chuckled, brushing past her to set the table. “No? Then why are you blushing?”

  “Because you said it like it was half a joke,” Stel muttered, folding her arms tighter.

  Hazel set down a pte with a delicate clink. “Rex. You’re safe. Mostly.”

  “Hazel!”

  Hazel just smiled again—cool and confident, the way only she could now—and returned to her quiet preparation. “Dinner’s ready,” she said. “Come eat. Or at least pretend to.”

  Stel slumped into a chair with a huff, cheeks still flushed, but the smallest grin pying at the edge of her lips.

  Hazel, ever the picture of poise, took her seat across from her, folding her hands like a host at a table far more dangerous than it appeared.

  And for just a moment, the illusion of normalcy returned—delicate, deliciously fragile, and full of secrets left unsaid.

  Later that evening, the apartment had gone quiet. The faint clink of dishes drying in the rack was the only sound in the kitchen, and from the living room, the soft flicker of television light danced over the walls, ignored by both sisters.

  Stel had fallen asleep curled up on the couch, textbook half-open on her chest, her face sck with peaceful exhaustion. Hazel paused for a moment, watching her sister.

  A flicker of something sharp and protective stirred within her—an instinct to shield, to carry, to ease the weight of a world that hadn’t changed for Stel the way it had for Hazel.

  She approached the couch, careful not to startle her. Gently, she brushed a lock of hair away from Stel’s face, her fingers lingering on the soft skin.

  She could feel the warm pulse of her sister’s heartbeat, steady and comforting in the quiet of the room.

  With practiced ease, Hazel scooped Stel into her arms, lifting her effortlessly as though the weight was nothing. She moved silently, her steps fluid and graceful, the faintest scent of vender lingering in the air as she carried her sister toward the bedroom.

  The weight of Stel’s body was familiar, comforting in a way that felt strangely normal despite everything that had changed. Hazel id her gently on the bed, pulling the covers over her and tucking her in with a careful touch.

  She lingered a moment, her gaze soft, taking in the way Stel’s chest rose and fell with each slow breath, unaware of the silent turmoil Hazel sometimes carried.

  She stepped back, just as quietly, moving into the bathroom.

  Under the harsh bathroom light, Hazel met her reflection once more. She studied the face that had grown so familiar in just two weeks—the too-perfect cheekbones, the depthless amber-gold eyes, the silky bck hair that spilled over her shoulders like ink.

  Nothing in the mirror showed who she had once been. And yet… she still saw it, faintly, in the curve of her jaw, the line of her shoulders. The ghost of the brother Stel once had.

  She touched the mirror. Cool gss met her fingertips.

  “Mom’s going to know,” she whispered, voice barely a breath. “Maybe not everything. But she’ll see it.”

  Her own eyes stared back—unchanging, unreadable, eternal.

  She stepped back into the dark, moving silently through the apartment. Past the living room, past the kitchen, and out onto the small balcony. The city hummed below, far removed from the strange, quiet bubble she now inhabited. Lights twinkled, cars passed, lives continued.

  And above it all, Hazel stood still.

  She no longer breathed out of necessity. Her pulse beat slow and quiet, a steady metronome of unnatural life.

  But for now, in this moment, she simply watched and listened. The weight of tomorrow loomed behind her eyes—but tonight, she was simply here.

  Still Hazel. Still trying.