Leandra hesitated at the doorway, her heart pounding as she listened to the muffled sounds from inside the house. Her father’s voice, usually warm and familiar, now carried a cautious tone she hadn’t heard before.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The living room was quiet, but she could see him sitting on the couch, staring intently at the TV, a look of concern etched into his face. She felt unfamiliar in her own skin—her long hair, her different body, everything about her now felt strange and fragile.
“Dad?” she called softly.
He looked up sharply, eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to process something impossible. Then, slowly, a tentative smile crept onto his face. “Leandra?” he asked, voice trembling slightly.
“Yeah… it’s me,” she said, voice.
Leandra watched his face, noticing how his expression softened, yet was tinged with uncertainty and a hint of worry. “How are you feeling?” he finally asked, voice gentle.
Leandra’s voice caught in her throat. “I am fine, Thanks, Dad”
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