Becoming Her: A Crossdressing Story Blog

 Anand had always believed that silence was safer than confrontation, but that morning the silence felt deliberate, almost prepared. Divya sat across the dining table, scrolling through her phone, sipping her coffee without looking at him even once. The house felt settled, as if decisions had already been made overnight and the day was merely expected to follow them. Anand waited for her to speak, for instructions, for irritation, for something—but she finished her coffee calmly and finally looked up at him with a steadiness that made his stomach tighten. “I think it’s time we stop pretending,” Divya said, placing the cup down carefully. There was no anger in her voice, no softness either—just certainty. Anand straightened instinctively, already sensing that this was not about chores or clothes or routines. This was about something much deeper, something he had been avoiding since the wedding night. Check of my new series: She Wore the Uniform. I Wore the Saree  She didn’t wai...

Meena did not announce her departure like a brave decision. She prepared for it quietly, carefully, as if fear itself could hear her footsteps. On the morning she left, she checked her certificates again, folded her clothes neatly, and stood still for a long moment near the door. Her face showed determination, but her eyes carried doubt. Police training was not a promise. It was only a chance. We had already decided what to tell others. In the village, truth spreads faster than fire, especially when it involves a woman stepping outside her expected place. If she failed the physical tests, the same mouths that encouraged her would mock her. So we said she had gone for exam coaching and to stay with relatives for some time. Saying it felt dishonest, but hiding felt safer than explaining At the bus stand, she did not ask for reassurance. She only said, “This is difficult. I know.” I nodded, pretending confidence I did not feel. When the bus left, it took more than her body away. It took c...