The gentle hum of the refrigerator suddenly seemed very loud. Nadia had been about to turn back to the sink, but she went completely still. She turned her head slowly to look at Emily, her expression unreadable.
"The pills?" Nadia asked, her tone neutral. "Why, solnyshko?"
Emily squirmed in her seat, her face burning. "He… he said he'd… he'd love it if there was milk. He said he'd love it even more. It was a joke… but… but I think he meant it." She finally looked up, her eyes pleading and hopeful. "I want to do it for him… I want to… indulge him."
Nadia didn't speak. She studied Emily for a long, tense moment, her face a mask of serious contemplation. The warm, soft grandmother was gone, replaced by someone else—a matriarch, a strategist. She placed the dish towel down on the counter with deliberate slowness.
Then, with a movement that was both practical and deeply symbolic, she reached into the front of her dress, into her bra, and pulled out her worn, faded bank card. She walked over to the table and placed it firmly on the wood in front of Emily.
"Then you will buy them," Nadia said, her voice low and utterly serious, leaving no room for argument.
"You will buy them today… You will not wait." She leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes intense.
"If that is what he wants, if that is what will make him happy, then we will give it to him… We must indulge him in this."
The worn plastic of the bank card felt alien in Emily's hand. She stared at it, then up at her grandmother's face, which was set in an expression of such fierce determination that it was almost intimidating. The simple, domestic warmth of the kitchen had vanished, replaced by the tense, focused atmosphere of a war room.
"G.. grandma?" Emily's voice was small, confused by the sudden shift.
"Why… why are you looking at me like that? It's just some pills…"
The statement sounded foolish even to her as she said it. They both knew it was about infinitely more than that. Nadia didn't blink. She placed her hands flat on the table, leaning forward, her body a line of unwavering intent.
"It is not 'just pills,'devochka," she said, her voice low and urgent, each word given immense weight.
"It is about what they represent. It is about him." She glanced meaningfully down the hall towards Sael's room.
"What happened today, with you, with me… do you not see it? The way he held us? The way he spoke? The things he desired?"
Emily nodded slowly, the pieces beginning to click into a terrifying, thrilling picture.
"He was no longer… delicate," Nadia continued, her lips pressing into a thin line as she referenced his former femboy persona with clear distaste.
"He was strong… He was direct... He was a man.". She infused the word with a sense of reverence and finality.
"For the first time in years, my Sael is thinking and acting like a straight, healthy man. This…" She gestured vaguely between Emily and herself, encompassing the entire astonishing afternoon.
"This is proof… His desires are proof."
A cold, clarifying understanding washed over Emily. This wasn't just about giving Sael what he wanted; it was about reinforcing 'what' he was. It was behavioral conditioning on a deeply intimate level.
"Ahhh," Emily breathed out, the sound one of dawning realization. Her own expression shifted from confusion to one of grim agreement. She nodded, her head moving in quick, sharp motions.
"You're right! You're absolutely right. We can't let him… slip back. We can't let him forget this feeling." The thought of him retreating back into makeup, spite, and emotional distance was a chilling prospect. They had to fortify this new version of him. They had to make the rewards of masculinity too enticing to abandon.
Nadia's intense expression softened marginally, seeing the understanding in her granddaughter's eyes. "Da," she said, a note of relief in her voice.
"We must be his foundation. We must show him that this path, the correct path, leads to happiness. To a family that adores him." She finally straightened up. "These concerns everyone. The whole family must be united in this."
"Should I… should I tell them?" Emily asked, pulling her phone from the pocket of her shorts. Her thumb hovered over the screen, over the group chat aptly named "The House."
"Yes," Nadia commanded, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Tell them everything. It is time for a new strategy."
Emily's fingers flew across the screen, her heart pounding with a new sense of purpose. This wasn't gossip like usual; this was a strategic briefing. She typed in bold letters, knowing Cathy, Vera, and Bella would need the emphasis.
EMILY: >>EMERGENCY FAMILY MEETING (THE GOOD KIND)<<
EMILY: SAEL JUST APOLOGIZED TO ME. FOR REAL. LIKE, REALLY FOR REAL.
EMILY: AND THEN HE HUGGED ME. AND IT WASN'T A SIBLING HUG. IT WAS A MAN'S HUG.
EMILY: AND THEN HE KISSED ME. LIKE, REALLY KISSED ME.
EMILY: AND GRANDMA SAYS HE DID THE SAME WITH HER. HE'S CHANGING. FOR REAL THIS TIME.
EMILY: HE TOLD ME HE WANTS TO DRINK MY MILK. I'M GOING TO GET THE PILLS. GRANDMA IS PAYING.
EMILY: WE CAN'T LET HIM GO BACK. WE HAVE TO SUPPORT THIS. WE HAVE TO KEEP HIM LIKE THIS.
She hit send. The three little dots indicating someone was typing appeared almost instantly.
****----****
In Cathy's Office,
Cathy was elbows-deep in a spreadsheet, the glow of the monitor highlighting the tired lines around her eyes. The ping of her phone was an intrusion. She sighed, reaching for it, expecting a work email. Then she saw it was the family chat. And she saw the word
"EMERGENCY."
Her blood ran cold. Sael. Something had happened. Her hand trembled as she opened the app. She read the first line. Then the second. Her breath caught in her throat.
By the time she reached "HE KISSED ME," a single, hot tear had escaped and splashed onto her phone screen. She read the rest through a blur, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. It wasn't a tragedy. It was a miracle. A slow, tremulous smile broke through her tears. Her baby. Her beautiful boy was finally finding his way back to them. The years of silent worry, of aching for the son she'd lost, melted away in a wave of pure, unadulterated relief. She began typing, her fingers clumsy with emotion.
****----****
At The Hot Grill Diner,
The lunch rush had just ended. Vera's apron was stained with grease and salsa, her muscles aching from hours at the flattop. She leaned against the warm stainless steel of the prep counter in the back alley, lighting a cigarette and savoring the first quiet moment in hours. Her phone buzzed. She scowled, expecting a supplier issue. She wiped her hand on a towel and pulled it out.
Her dark eyes scanned Emily's messages. Her scowl deepened initially—what kind of drama was this now? Then she read it again. And again. The scowl vanished, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief.
'He kissed her? A man's hug?' A slow, fierce, proud smile spread across her face. This was it. This was what she'd been waiting for. Her Sobrino wasn't just apologizing; he was becoming. He was stepping into the role she had always wanted for him—the man of the house. A real man. She took a long, satisfying drag on her cigarette, her mind already racing, planning protein-packed meals that would build muscle and stoke his fires. She tapped out a quick, decisive reply.
****----****
At, Lone Star Lanes Bowling Alley,
Bella was in the zone. The world had narrowed to the forty-two feet of polished wood between her and the ten pins. She took a deep breath, rocked back on her heel, and began her approach, her body a study in powerful, graceful motion. The ball left her hand with a perfect, rolling thunder, crashing into the pocket with a satisfying [CRACK] of scattering pins. Strike.
Her teammates cheered. She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile, turning back to them. Her phone, sitting on the ball return, lit up like a Christmas tree. Dozens of pings in rapid succession. Frowning, she picked it up, her bowling glove making the screen tricky to navigate.
She opened the chat. Her dark eyes widened as she read. Her breath hitched. Sael? Apologizing? Kissing Emily? A joy so intense it was almost painful exploded in her chest. The hope she had stubbornly clung to for years, the love she had hidden behind a wall of hurt, burst free. Her earnest face broke into a beaming, radiant smile that made her teammates pause and stare. Her beloved cousin was changing. For her. For them. She started typing, her heart feeling like it might beat right out of her chest.
****----****
Back in the Kitchen,
Emily's phone erupted. Ping after ping after ping vibrated in her hand. She and Nadia leaned over it together, watching the responses flood in.
CATHY: 😭😭😭 My baby! My sweet boy! I'm crying at my desk. This is the best news. The BEST. I am so happy. I will get the pills on my way home. I will stop at the pharmacy right now.
VERA: It's about damn time. I knew he had it in him. Don't worry about his diet. I'm on it. Steak. Eggs. Chicken. He's going to be strong. He's going to be a real man. BELLA: YES!!!!!! 😍😍😍 I knew he could do it! I'm so happy I could scream! I'll help him exercise! We can work out together! I'll get him so strong and healthy!
The messages were a symphony of unified, ecstatic support. A tear traced a path down Nadia's cheek, but it was a tear of triumph. She placed a hand on Emily's shoulder, squeezing gently.
Emily looked up from the glowing screen, her own eyes shining. The plan was no longer just a theory; it was in motion. The entire family was enlisted. Their mission was clear, their resolve absolute. They would surround their man with everything he needed, everything he desired. They would love him, support him, and pleasure him so thoroughly that the thought of ever going back to who he was would become an impossible, distant memory. The House of Hardcox was no longer a place of quiet depression. It was a command center. And the campaign to secure Sael's masculinity had officially begun.