The apartment was dark when Aiden returned.
The hallway lights were broken again, flickering weakly as he made his way to the door. The building was old—older than anyone should legally be renting—and every step up the stairs creaked dangerously. The landlord rarely fixed anything unless threatened, and Aiden didn't have the time or energy to fight with him about it.
He pushed open the door.
Inside, the small room smelled faintly of dampness and the soup he'd heated that morning. There was no furniture aside from the mattress on the floor and one chipped table. Their bags were piled in the corner.
"Mia?" Aiden called softly.
She was curled up on the mattress, facing the wall. Her shoulders were trembling.
Aiden's chest tightened.
He knelt beside her. "Hey… hey, it's just me."
Her eyes opened slowly, hazy and distant before focusing on his face. She blinked once—then her lip quivered.
"Aiden…" Her voice broke.
He sat down and pulled her gently into his arms. She clung to his shirt, her fingers shaking.
"Where were you?" she asked in a cracked whisper. "Why… why did you leave?"
Guilt sliced through him like a knife.
"I was working," he whispered against her hair. "I have to work, Mia. For us."
She shook her head weakly, a confused fear in her eyes. "But you said… you said you'd be right back. You promised."
He swallowed hard. "I know. I'm sorry."
She didn't understand time anymore—not the way she used to. Minutes felt like hours to her, sometimes days. Sometimes she forgot that he had left at all, and she would look at him in shock as if he had suddenly appeared from nowhere.
Tonight, she remembered.
And it had scared her.
"It's okay," Aiden said softly, rocking her. "I'm here now."
She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart like it was her anchor.
Aiden held her tightly, feeling a pressure behind his eyes.
He was drowning.
And she was too fragile to even see how deep the water was.
After a while, Mia's breathing slowed. She drifted back to sleep, fingers still curled in his shirt. Aiden gently laid her back down and tucked the blanket around her.
Only when he stood up did he realize his hands were shaking.
He walked to the window, staring out at the sprawling lights of the city. He felt small—so painfully small—compared to everything around him.
Saara's words echoed again and again.
What would you do to save Mia?
Anything.
He'd already decided that long before she'd asked the question.
**********
The next morning came too quickly.
Aiden barely got an hour of real sleep before Mia woke again, asking for breakfast, asking where they were, asking where the dog she saved had gone. He answered each question gently, even though they repeated every few days.
He made cheap porridge. She stared at it like she'd forgotten what porridge was.
Aiden ate nothing.
He packed his work apron, brushed his hair with his fingers, and forced himself into the street.
The walk to the café was painful—his feet ached with every step—but he made it on time. The manager barely looked at him.
"Double shift," she barked. "Someone didn't show."
Aiden opened his mouth to explain he couldn't—
But then he thought of Mia's medicine.
Of the unpaid bill at the clinic.
Of the surgery deadline tightening around their throats.
"I'll take it," he said quietly.
By noon, he felt like collapsing.
By evening, he wasn't sure how he was standing.
By closing time, he leaned on the counter just to stay upright.
"You look like death," one of the waitresses muttered.
Aiden gave a weak half-smile. "Guess that's how it is."
She rolled her eyes. "Go home. Seriously."
He wanted to. God, he wanted to.
But home meant facing Mia's confusion, her fear, her shaking hands—
and the constant reminder that he was failing her.
He stepped outside the café, the cold night air biting his skin. His breath fogged in front of him.
And someone called his name.
"Aiden!"
He turned.
Saara jogged toward him, waving wildly again. "Perfect timing. I was looking for you."
Aiden blinked. "Saara? What are you—"
"You didn't answer my text," she said, hands on hips.
"What text?"
"The one where I asked if you thought about what we talked about."
Aiden pulled out his battered phone. It had died hours ago.
"Oh. Sorry."
She studied his exhausted face, her smile slowly fading.
"You look…" She shook her head. "You look like you're about to collapse."
He didn't deny it.
"Come on," Saara said gently. "My place is close. We need to talk."
"Saara, I—"
"No arguing." She grabbed his sleeve. "You're two seconds away from passing out. Let's go."
He didn't have the strength to resist.
******
Saara's apartment was tiny and messy, but warm. Clothes were piled everywhere, canvases leaned against the walls, colorful lights were strung across the ceiling.
It felt alive.
Chaotic.
Comforting.
"Sit," she ordered.
He sat.
She thrust a mug of steaming cocoa into his hands.
He stared at it, confused. "I didn't ask for—"
"I know," she said, plopping down across from him. "You never ask for anything. That's the problem."
He lowered his gaze.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Saara took a breath and leaned forward.
"Aiden. We need to talk about the nanny job."
His grip on the mug tightened.
"I… I can't pretend to be someone else," he whispered.
"You pretend every day," Saara said softly.
He looked up sharply.
She didn't flinch.
"You pretend you're fine. You pretend you're not exhausted. You pretend you're not drowning in fear and stress. But you are." Her voice softened. "I see it."
Aiden's throat tightened. "Saara…"
"Let me help you," she said. "Please."
He closed his eyes, breathing shakily.
Saara scooted closer and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Aiden. If you don't find a better job… Mia won't get the surgery."
He flinched.
"And you know it."
He swallowed hard.
"I know it's scary," Saara continued. "I know it sounds ridiculous. But if this is your one chance—your only chance—to make enough money in time…"
Her voice trembled.
"Wouldn't you try?"
Aiden stared at the mug in his hands.
Mia, It will be cheating on them,Aiden said
And I can not cheat anyone,.Mia, He said
"Aiden, there's an opportunity right in front of your eyes, but you're pushing it away yourself.
Just think about Mia, Aiden. You won't find another job with such a good salary.
Please think," she yelled.
It is impossible to collect this amount of money, she said
Aiden listened and left her apartment.
**********
That night, when Aiden returned to the apartment, Mia was awake.
She sat up, blinking at him.
"Where did you go?" she whispered softly.
Aiden knelt beside her and brushed her hair lightly.
"I'm here now," he murmured. "I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
She leaned into him, trusting as a child.
Aiden held her close.
And in the darkness, he whispered the vow that had already consumed his heart:
"I'll save you, Mia…
************
The next morning, Saara flung open the curtains in her apartment with dramatic flair, letting in a flood of sunlight that stabbed Aiden directly in the eyes.
"Up!" she declared. "Today we begin Operation Save Mia!"
Aiden groaned into the couch cushion. "Why does saving Mia involve blinding me?"
"Because," Saara said, yanking the blanket off him, "heroes don't sleep in."
He sat up reluctantly, muscles aching from work and lack of rest. Saara shoved a cup of instant coffee into his hands and clapped loudly.
"Let's begin."
Aiden blinked. "Begin… what?"
Saara grinned. "Your transformation."
Aiden froze.
"S–Saara, I still haven't said yes to the job—"
"Yes, you have," she interrupted. "You said we'd try. That counts."
"No, it doesn't!"
She patted his shoulder. "Too late. Stand up."
He sighed, defeated, and stood.
Saara opened a giant plastic bin full of cosmetics, fabrics, wigs, and—dear God—heels that looked like torture devices.
Aiden stared. "Are you sure this is necessary?"
"Yes," she said. "You want that job? You need to look the part. Trust me, rich people can smell doubt. And manliness."
"Thanks," he muttered.
Saara wiggled her eyebrows. "Let's start with the easy stuff."
Nothing that followed was easy.
***********
The first challenge: walking in heels.
Saara handed him a pair of black pumps.
He put them on—and immediately fell.
"Why do people wear these?" he groaned from the floor.
"Because they look fabulous," she said, helping him up. "Try again."
He tried again.
And fell again.
And again.
And again.
By the sixth attempt, his ankles hurt and his pride was dead.
"Walking is supposed to be simple!" he hissed.
"Walking as a man is simple," Saara corrected. "Walking as a woman is performance. Chest up. Hips steady. Shorter steps. And don't walk like someone shoved a stick up your—"
"I get it!"
The seventh attempt was slightly less tragic. He didn't fall, at least.
Saara clapped. "Progress!"
Aiden muttered something dark under his breath.
********
Next came clothes—specifically, fitted clothes. Dresses, blouses, skirts. Saara made him try all of them.
The first dress stuck halfway over his head.
The second tore a button when he tried to breathe.
The third slid on easily but made him feel utterly exposed.
Aiden stood in front of the mirror, staring in horror.
"I look ridiculous."
"You look feminine," Saara corrected. "Which is the point."
Aiden shifted uncomfortably. "I feel like I'm lying."
"You're not lying," Saara said gently. "You're surviving."
He didn't answer.
Because it did feel like lying—like he was betraying something invisible but sacred. Pretending to be someone he wasn't. Wearing clothes that didn't belong to him. Creating a version of himself that shouldn't exist.
But then he saw Mia's face flash in his mind.
Her trembling hands.
Her confused eyes.
Her voice whispering, Aiden… don't leave me.
And the guilt hit him all over again.
"I'll do whatever it takes," he whispered.
Saara heard the shift.
Her expression softened. "I know."
***********
Then came the makeup disasters.
Disaster #1: He poked himself in the eye with mascara.
Disaster #2: He sneezed while Saara was contouring and ended up with a brown streak across his cheek.
Disaster #3: He blinked during eyeliner and somehow managed to smear it down his cheek like he'd been crying for ten hours.
Saara groaned dramatically. "You're hopeless."
"I told you!" Aiden snapped, eyes watering from the makeup remover. "I'm not—this isn't—this is lying!"
Saara grabbed his shoulders. "Aiden. You're not doing this for fun. You're doing it because you have no other choice."
He looked away.
"I hate it," he whispered.
"I know," she said softly. "But you love Mia more than you hate this."
He exhaled shakily.
"Yes," he said. "I do."
Saara squeezed his arm. "Then let's keep going."
**********
The hair extensions were the next nightmare.
Aiden sat stiffly as Saara clipped them in. One popped off and hit him in the forehead. Another tangled instantly.
"Why is this so complicated?" he groaned.
"Beauty takes sacrifice," Saara said, wrestling with a hairpiece. "Sometimes blood sacrifice."
Aiden rubbed his temples. "This is insane."
"You're insane," she shot back, "for not washing your hair before coming here."
He glared. She smirked.
Eventually, after wrestling with the extensions for too long, Saara gave up and brought out a wig instead—a soft, shoulder-length dark brown one.
She placed it carefully on his head.
"Now," she said, stepping back, "for the final touch."
She adjusted the hairline, smoothed the strands over his shoulders, and tilted his chin slightly.
Aiden swallowed.
"Ready?"
"No."
She turned the mirror anyway.
Aiden stared.
The person in the reflection wasn't Aiden.
Wasn't the exhausted village boy surviving on scraps and fear.
Wasn't the brother drowning under the weight of impossible choices.
This person was…
Delicate.
Soft.
Feminine.
Someone who might actually pass as a woman.
Someone who could get that job.
Someone who could save Mia.
Aiden's breath trembled.
"Who is that?" he whispered.
Saara smiled.
"That," she said, "is your new identity."
He stared.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"What should we call her?" Saara asked.
He hesitated.
A name came to her, unbidden. Something gentle. Something soft. Something new.
"Ava," she whispered.
Saara smiled widely. "Ava. Perfect."
Aiden stared at the reflection.
I'm doing this for Mia, he reminded himself. Only for Mia.
He took a breath.
Aiden forced a smile.
, he looked back at his reflection.
At Ava.
And guilt twisted deep in his chest.
He wasn't just transforming his appearance.
He was transforming his life.
And there was no going back.
"I'll save you, Mia… no matter what I have to become Aiden to Ava.
**********************