Maid for... life [long story]

 The neighborhood where Charles lived had always been simple and peaceful, with modest houses and neighbors who knew each other by name. However, everything began to change when large real estate companies bought nearby land to build a luxurious gated community. Modern mansions with iron fences and meticulously manicured gardens began to contrast with the old, unpretentious buildings that still stood. Little by little, the simple charm of the neighborhood was lost, giving way to an atmosphere of exclusivity and status.

Charles, a young man in his early twenties, felt increasingly out of place. The unemployment that was ravaging the city had hit him hard. He had tried everything: delivery man, waiter, store clerk. Nothing seemed to last long, and his financial situation became increasingly precarious. He observed with a mixture of curiosity and resentment the new residents of the mansions. The most recent and, without a doubt, the most striking of them was Edward.

Edward was a tall, muscular man who was always impeccably dressed. His presence alone made everyone in the neighborhood notice him. He had moved into the newly built mansion across the street from Charles's house. While the other neighbors kept their distance, speculating about the new resident, Charles had a strange feeling when observing him. Something about Edward intrigued him, as if the man was much more than just a wealthy and aloof figure.

One day, the unexpected happened. Edward, with his always confident posture and penetrating gaze, knocked on Charles's door. The young man, surprised, opened the door hesitantly, not knowing what to expect.

"I need a maid, don't you know anyone that could fit that role," Edward said bluntly, with a tone of voice that left no room for refusal.

Charles blinked, confused. This was not the kind of approach he expected from someone like Edward.

"Maid?" he asked, trying to process the situation. "Well, I... I'm out of work right now, but..."

Before he could continue, a bold idea crossed his mind. Unemployed and without prospects, he decided to take a chance. If Edward was willing to hire someone, perhaps there was room for negotiation.

“What if, instead of a maid, you hired me as a butler?” Charles suggested, trying to sound confident. “I can learn quickly, I’m dedicated and careful.”

Edward looked at him with a mixture of interest and surprise, but soon shook his head.

“No, I’ve always had maids,” he explained in a firm but not disdainful tone. “Since I was a child, they’ve been the ones who kept my house in order. Always well-groomed, elegant, dedicated. That’s how it works for me. A butler isn’t what I need.”

Charles, feeling the weight of the refusal, hesitated for a moment. He knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. The salary, he was sure, would be very good. Looking at the imposing mansion behind Edward, he made a bold decision.

“What if I apply for the maid role?” he suggested, with a crooked smile.

Edward raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the proposal. He was silent for a few seconds, perhaps considering the absurd idea. But, to Charles's surprise, Edward's expression softened and a slight smile curved his lips.

"You... as a maid?" Edward repeated, as if he were savoring the idea. "That would be... unusual."

Charles, not sure if Edward was laughing at him or if he was actually considering the proposal, stood his ground.

"I can adapt," he said, trying to sound as serious as possible. "I'm a quick learner. And, look, I really do need it. I'll do whatever it takes. The important thing is the pay, right?"

Edward, now more amused than serious, crossed his arms and gave Charles an appraising look.

"I've never had a... male servant doing this kind of work. But why not?" Edward shrugged, as if he were considering something new. "Maybe it would be interesting. If you're willing to follow the rules and... of course, wear the proper uniform, we can do a test run." Charles, now surprised by the positive answer, swallowed hard. He hadn't expected it to go this far, but he couldn't go back.

"Okay. I'll do whatever it takes."

Edward smiled sideways, seeming satisfied with Charles' determination.

"Very well, then. Tomorrow, you start."

And so, the next day, Charles found himself in front of a mirror, wearing what he had never imagined: a stylized maid's uniform. The fabric was refined, the details elegant, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he saw himself in that situation. But, with the need knocking on the door and without many options, he adjusted his apron, took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was to come.

Charles took a deep breath as he left the room, still processing what had just happened. The money was irresistible. The salary Edward had offered him not only exceeded his expectations, but also far exceeded any amount he had ever earned in his life. Adding up his last three jobs, it barely paid half of what Edward was willing to give. And as uncomfortable as he felt about the situation, pragmatism prevailed.

As he descended the stairs, Charles hadn’t expected to find anyone other than Edward. But when he entered the large living room, he stopped in surprise. Seated in plush chairs and impeccably dressed were three different figures, each with a confident and professional posture. Edward, as always, stood at the center of the scene, relaxed, watching Charles with a calm smile.

“Ah, Charlene!” Edward called, emphasizing Charles’s new name with a slight tease. “Just in time. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Charles glanced at the three women around him. One of them held a professional makeup case; the other held a professional makeup bag. another, with impeccable posture, held an etiquette book on her lap; the third, with a serious expression, was wearing a chef's uniform.

"I... wasn't expecting visitors," Charles said, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

Edward stood up with a theatrical gesture and pointed to the three women.

"Yesterday you mentioned that you could handle the household chores, and I don't doubt your ability," he said, with the calm tone of someone who had everything planned. "However, there are three essential areas for me that I believe you still need to master. For that, I brought these three experts to help you."

Charles arched an eyebrow, already feeling the cold sweat on the back of his neck. Edward continued:

"This is Helena, your makeup artist." He gestured to the woman on his left, who gave him a polite but serious smile. "She'll make sure you're always neat and impeccable. No matter what you're doing, appearance is essential."

"This is Beatriz, your etiquette teacher." — The woman in the center inclined her head slightly, as if greeting Charles without moving from her spot. — She will teach you how to be polite and attentive. The way you behave inside and outside the home is as important as the service you provide.

— And finally... — Edward pointed to the last woman, who seemed the most imposing of the three. — This is Marta, your chef. — Marta crossed her arms, looking at Charles with appraising eyes. — She will teach you how to prepare true feasts for me. Because, after all, taste is one of my greatest demands.

Charles, who was already starting to feel his legs shaking, let out a nervous laugh.

— I thought I was signing up to clean the house and organize things... not for a complete makeover.

Edward smiled at the corner of his mouth, as if he had been expecting exactly that reaction.

— When you accepted the job, Charlene, you accepted everything it involves. And that means that, in addition to being efficient at household chores, you must also be... versatile. I like things well done and, above all, done with style.

Charles was silent for a moment, observing the three women who were now his "teachers". He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But one thing was certain: he was on a path of no return. The salary figures shone in his mind like a light at the end of the tunnel, and he knew he had to hold on tight.

"Okay..." he sighed. "Let's get started then."

Edward smiled with satisfaction.

"Excellent, Charlene. Believe me, with time, you'll get used to it... and who knows, maybe you'll even start to like it."

As Helena opened her makeup case, Beatriz tidied up her notes and Marta nodded in approval, Charles realized that his life was about to take an unexpected turn. Whether he was like Charles or Charlene, he would have to quickly learn to deal with this new reality. And, despite the initial embarrassment, a part of him was curious to see where it would take him.

--

Months passed, and the exhausting routine that Charles had assumed began to weigh on him. Every day, the alarm clock rang before dawn, and the young man, now accustomed to this new version of himself, prepared for another day of work at Edward's mansion. The transformation that had begun as an unusual choice for money had become an almost automatic ritual, but no less tiring for that.

The first task of each day was always the same: go to the mansion and get ready. Helena had been relentless from the beginning, teaching him to take care of his appearance with an almost obsessive dedication. Makeup, once a strange burden, was now a second skin for Charles, who applied it with precision, albeit without enthusiasm. Heels, however, continued to be his greatest torment. No matter how many months passed, his legs still trembled with every step, as if his body refused to get used to the discomfort. But he kept going, balancing himself carefully as he ran around the house to complete the countless tasks.

Charles' day was a non-stop marathon. After getting ready, Edward's breakfast was his priority. It had to be perfect, served at the exact time. Then he would start cleaning the rooms, organizing every detail of the mansion that never seemed to be completely in order. In the middle of all this, lunch had to be started, always under the guidance of Marta, who had trained him to prepare elaborate dishes, but which Edward devoured without ceremony. Charles barely had time to breathe between one task and another.

As the weeks turned into months, he didn't notice, but small changes began to happen. His body, previously resistant to the transformation, now seemed to mold itself to this new routine. His curly hair, which he had always kept short, grew naturally, and, over time, Helena suggested hairstyles that matched his androgynous appearance. A discreet bow became part of his daily attire, cutely pinned to his hair, giving him an almost delicate look that he would never have imagined wearing before accepting the job.

Over time, even beauty rituals became part of Charles's routine. Helena had instructed him on the importance of keeping his skin clean and well cared for, always free of hair, and he followed her instructions to the letter, without even questioning it. He vaguely remembered the day when this routine seemed absurd, but now it was just another step in his morning preparation.

Charles spent so much time at Edward's mansion that he barely had time for himself. At the end of each day, when he finally washed the last pile of dishes, he felt a mix of relief and exhaustion. Only then could he return home, without makeup, without the uncomfortable heels, and finally throw himself into bed.

As the months passed and the routine intensified, Edward began to observe Charles with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. He had never imagined that the young man would last more than a week in this challenge. From the beginning, he had seen in Charles someone who would quickly give in to pressure and discomfort, someone who would back down when he realized what he had gotten himself into.

"How the hell is he still here?" Edward wondered, leaning casually on the kitchen doorframe, observing yet another busy morning. He watched Charles stumble slightly as he tried to balance himself in his high heels, something that still seemed to challenge him, even after all this time. The young man moved around the kitchen with clumsy grace, and Edward couldn't help but smile when Charles, once again, almost fell over while picking up a tray of eggs.

"You know..." Edward began, with a slight teasing tone in his voice. "When you started, I really thought you wouldn't last three days, much less three months.

Charles, panting and with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, barely had time to react. He took a quick look over his shoulder, his body still tense from the shoes that insisted on making his legs tremble.

“Three months? Has it really been that long?” asked Charles, trying to hide his discomfort as he adjusted his false eyelashes, which had long since become a constant burden. Every minute he felt them weighing down his eyes, and in a futile attempt to alleviate the sensation, he blew upwards, as if that would solve the problem.

Edward laughed, shaking his head.

“Yes, and I thought you would fall off after the first few falls. Like that time you almost dropped the entire tray when you fell in the dining room.”

Charles frowned, still dealing with the daily challenges.

“I still hate those heels…” he murmured, concentrating on trying to balance himself while stirring the pots. “But I wasn’t going to give up that easily.” The salary reminds me of that every morning.

Edward watched as Charles threw a piece of meat into the frying pan with a somewhat clumsy gesture. The reaction was immediate: the hot oil splashed everywhere, making Charles jump back with a muffled scream.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, waving his hands in the air in despair.

Edward laughed louder, but at the same time, there was a hint of admiration. He walked into the kitchen and casually took the frying pan from Charles's hand, moving it deftly, as if to demonstrate what the young man still needed to learn.

"I never thought you'd handle the kitchen, to be honest," Edward said, stirring the meat skillfully. "When I saw you throwing the meat carelessly into the frying pan, at first I thought you were going to set my kitchen on fire."

Charles, a little irritated, but aware of his limitations, shrugged.

"And I almost did... twice." Edward, still in disbelief, handed the frying pan back to Charles with a smirk.

“The fact is that you’re not only adapting, but you’re improving. I confess that I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be able to do this with a minimum of competence,” Edward pointed at Charles with the spatula, “but here we are. You, in high heels, with makeup on, and making my breakfast. Who would have thought?”

Charles sighed and went back to fiddling with the frying pan, blowing his eyelashes once more in an instinctive attempt to ease his irritation.

“I didn’t think it would last this long either,” he admitted, without losing focus on the food. “But I guess I got used to it. That, or I’m going crazy.”

Edward took a step back, crossing his arms as he watched Charles with an appraising look.

“Crazy or not, you’ve become a version of yourself that I didn’t expect. And, to be honest, I’m impressed. But be careful,” he said, in a joking tone, “you still have a long journey ahead of you.” There was still much to learn.

Charles just rolled his eyes, knowing that the excruciating routine was far from over. But somehow, this new life that had transformed him both physically and mentally no longer seemed as unbearable as it had before.

--

As the months passed, it wasn’t just Charles’ appearance that changed; his home itself reflected these changes as well. Before, his humble home, with its faded walls and bills piling up in the mailbox, was a reflection of his financially unstable life. But with the money flowing in regularly, his life began to take on colors and shapes he had never imagined.

The house, which had previously seemed empty and lifeless, now exuded comfort and warmth. The first sign of the change was in the living room: new furniture replaced the old worn-out sofas, and a large, state-of-the-art TV dominated the space, flanked by a modern video game console. Charles, who had never allowed himself luxuries, now found moments of leisure amidst his exhausting routine, playing games or watching series to unwind.

In the kitchen, the transformation was even more striking. The old, rusty utensils were replaced by state-of-the-art appliances. Pots, knives, and new appliances filled the cabinets, and, curiously, Charles noticed that he was starting to use these tools more often. Without realizing it, he was applying the knowledge that Marta, the chef, had taught him, honing his culinary skills at home, even on his days off. The smell of elaborate dishes began to be part of his lonely nights.

The bedroom also reflected his new reality. The space, previously simple and untidy, now had a touch of elegance. A vanity with various cosmetics carefully organized adorned one corner of the room, accompanied by a mirror with a beautiful frame, which reflected the version of Charles that he was slowly getting used to seeing. It was there, at the end of each day, that he performed his self-care rituals. He applied the creams that kept his skin clean and flawless, something that at first seemed like an obligation, but now was part of a routine that he began to enjoy.

The house that had previously been a symbol of hardship now shone as a reflection of his adaptation to this new life. Charles, without fully realizing it, had become more than just someone who fulfilled Edward's demands; he was evolving, molding himself into this new version of himself, both inside and out. And his home, like him, seemed to breathe this new reality.

On that particularly busy Friday, Charles had worked tirelessly to prepare a grand dinner that Edward was hosting for his guests. The food, result of months of refinement under Martha’s tutelage, was impeccable. However, Edward, with his usual sense of control and discretion, had made it clear that Charles was not to serve during the event. He wanted to avoid any possible embarrassment for both of them, and he preferred that, for the time being, no one discover the identity of the devoted and newly transformed maid who looked after his mansion.

“Leave the table set before the guests arrive and then keep out of sight,” Edward had ordered.

Charles, understanding the delicacy of the situation, followed the instructions to the letter. The dinner went off without a hitch, the guests left satisfied, and Edward seemed more than pleased with Charles’s performance. However, after everyone had left, Charles had even more work to do. Cleaning and organizing the dishes took much of the evening, and by the time he was finally finished, it was already dawn. Exhausted, he barely had the strength to stand. Instead of following his nightly ritual of removing his makeup, washing his face, and taking care of his skin, he simply threw himself on the bed, without even taking off his heels, and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning, the doorbell rang insistently, pulling Charles out of a deep sleep. Groggy and unaware of the time, he got up quickly, his feet still sore from the night before. He walked quickly to the door and, when he opened it, he froze.

"Mike?" Charles said, surprised. His old friend, whom he hadn't spoken to in months due to his new routine, was there, standing in the doorway, with a smile on his face. They had always been inseparable, but work at Edward's mansion had consumed all of Charles's free time.

"Hey, man, didn't expect to see you so early," Mike replied, keeping his expression friendly, although his eyes showed a brief flash of surprise.

It was at that moment that Charles noticed. He was still wearing makeup. His false eyelashes, perfectly applied eyeliner, foundation, and light lipstick. Everything was still in place. The fatigue from the night before had made him completely forget to remove it. His heart raced, but to his surprise, Mike didn't comment on his appearance at all. He just acted like it was... normal.

"Hey, Mike, I..." Charles started, not knowing exactly how to approach what seemed obvious. "I... just woke up."

Mike glanced over quickly, trying to hide his curiosity while at the same time feigning a disconcerting normality.

"It's okay, man. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was off work today, passing by, and I thought, 'Why don't I stop by my old friend Charles?' It's been so long since we've seen each other," Mike said, patting Charles on the shoulder in a friendly way.

Charles tried to smile, but the situation was causing him a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. He knew Mike had noticed, but the fact that his friend hadn't mentioned anything directly only made the moment even more uncomfortable. It was as if Mike was waiting for him to explain... or maybe not.

— Sure, sure, come in — said Charles, stepping aside to let Mike pass.

As Mike walked through the house, Charles quickly glanced at himself in the mirror next to the door. He saw the image of himself, with makeup on, his hair tied up casually but still carefully arranged. He was no longer the sloppy and tired look he had before. Now, he was a mix of Charles and... Charlene. And what surprised him the most was how calm Mike was in the face of all this.

“The house looks different,” commented Mike, observing the new furniture, the TV, the modern kitchen appliances. “You’re living well, huh?”

Charles laughed, still nervous.

“Things have changed a bit since we last saw each other.”

Mike looked at him enigmatically, but still friendly.

“That’s obvious. But, you know, we change, it’s part of life.” He smiled again, without losing his relaxed tone. “Anyway, it’s good to see you, Charles. I missed the old days.”

“Me too, Mike. Me too,” Charles replied, trying to absorb what had just happened. Mike might not have said anything, but one thing was certain: he knew. And for some reason, he decided that was a conversation for another time.

Charles, still trying to control his nervousness, invited Mike to sit on the new couch and tried to adopt the same attitude of normality that his friend seemed to be maintaining so easily.

"Would you like a drink? Something to eat?" Charles asked, trying to sound casual while doing his best to hide his discomfort.

Mike nodded, giving a friendly smile.

"A drink would be great. And if there's something to nibble on, even better. I'm starving," he said, casting a curious glance around the house, noticing the renovated and cozy atmosphere.

Charles sighed in relief to have something ready. Fortunately, there were jars full of cookies that he had practiced so much to perfect. His mind was still a little fuzzy, but he decided to go with the flow of the unexpected visit.

"Don't be shy," Charles said, gesturing towards the game shelf. "You can choose a game from the library, make yourself at home while I prepare something for us to enjoy the morning."

Mike, always calm, stood up and began to examine the selection of games that Charles had. Meanwhile, Charles went to the kitchen, still trying to control the anxiety that was growing in his chest. He prepared a plate with the cookies he had baked and other treats, decorating it carefully. It was funny how, even in this tense moment, his instincts for perfection in presentation, which he had developed with so much effort, did not fail him. Every detail on the plate was thought out with precision, as if he were about to serve a feast for Edward.

When he returned with the plate, Mike had already selected a game and was settling into the couch, controller in hand. Charles placed the plate on the coffee table, and as he did so, he felt a chill run down his spine when he realized that Mike was watching his movements with an enigmatic smile.

Mike picked up a cookie and took a bite, looking at Charles with an amused glint in his eyes.

"This is great, man," he said, offering a genuine compliment. "Have you been practicing?"

Charles tried to hide his embarrassment, but his fingers involuntarily began to curl up, as if they were trying to hide themselves. His nails were carefully painted in a subtle shade, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to hide them. While Charles fiddled with his hands, trying to disguise them, Mike kept his gaze attentive, now taking in every detail.

"Oh... yeah. I... I've been practicing," Charles replied, trying to sound casual, but the hesitation in his voice was evident.

Mike just smiled, his eyes fixed on Charles, clearly noticing more than just the cookies. He didn't say anything about the painted nails, but the silence and friendly smile suggested that he had noticed much more than Charles would like to admit.

The situation only got worse when their eyes met. Every time this happened, Charles felt his face heat up and knew he was visibly blushing. Mike, always calm, just savored the food and the moment.

"You've always been good with details, but now..." Mike said, raising an eyebrow, without losing his relaxed tone. "It's impeccable." The presentation of this dish, worthy of a professional.

Charles blushed even more, trying to hide his face with his hands, but he knew it was useless. Mike's attentive gaze ran over every feature of his made-up face, and the more he tried to act normal, the more embarrassed he became. Mike's smile, however, was not one of judgment, but of acceptance. He just watched, unhurriedly, as if he was waiting for Charles to feel comfortable enough to talk about whatever was going on.

"Dude..." Mike began, this time in a softer tone. "You don't have to worry so much. I'm here, the same way I've always been. No matter what's going on."

Charles took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. Maybe, at that moment, he finally realized that his longtime friend, despite everything, was still the same Mike, willing to accept who he was, regardless of the obvious changes.

--

Charlie tried to focus on what, until then, seemed to be the only way to distract himself from the strangeness of the moment: a simple game of soccer on a video game, just like in the old days. He picked up one of the controllers and, without looking directly at Mike, murmured in an attempt to lighten the mood:

"Let's pretend everything is normal. Two friends playing video games. Nothing strange here."

He focused his attention on the screen, selecting his team. The game started, and Charlie tried his best to ignore the fact that he was sitting there, with false eyelashes, perfectly painted nails and flawless makeup. Mike, on the other hand, spent more time stealing glances at Charlie than paying attention to the game. He seemed fascinated by his friend's unexpected transformation, especially by the way Charles now exuded a different but intriguing beauty.

The game was uneventful, with Mike clearly distracted and Charlie struggling to keep his cool. The score ended 0-0, and at the end of the game, Charlie let out a sigh of frustration. His friend was barely paying attention to the game.

“Hey, Mike, you weren’t even trying to play for real!” Charlie said, irritated, as he put down the controller for a moment. “If that’s the case, we shouldn’t have started the game in the first place.”

Mike smirked, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Sorry, man. I guess I got a little distracted,” Mike replied, with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

Charlie, now more competitive, decided to change the dynamic of the game. He needed something that could make Mike really focus.

“Okay, then let’s do it like this,” Charlie said, as he picked up the controller again, determined. “If you beat me in the next game, I’ll grant you any wish. Within my limitations, of course... like cleaning your car, mowing the lawn, or walking your dog.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, visibly intrigued.

“And if you win?” he asked.

“If I win, you’ll wash my sink full of dirty dishes.” Charlie issued the challenge confidently. He knew he had more experience in the game and that, during his time unemployed, he had spent hours perfecting himself in several games, including this one. He was sure he would win easily.

“Deal!” Mike replied, laughing.

The match began and, as Charlie expected, he dominated most of the game. His passes were precise, his movements flowed naturally. But, as time went on, something strange began to happen. Involuntarily, Charlie noticed that he was avoiding making more abrupt movements with the controller. Every time he needed a quick move, he hesitated for a millisecond, avoiding pressing the buttons too hard, afraid of... ruining his nails. His fingers, now delicate and carefully painted, seemed to prevent him from completely letting go of the game.

Little by little, Mike began to take advantage of the gaps, although, most of the time, his gaze strayed to Charlie's profile, with his long, well-defined eyelashes. What seemed like a distraction turned into an advantage, as Charlie, more conscious of his own appearance and the need to keep everything impeccable, began to lose the advantage.

Then, in the 47th minute of the second half, with the score still tied, Mike made a bold pass and, before Charlie could react, the ball went into the back of the net. A beautiful goal.

“GOAL!” Mike shouted, getting up from the couch and throwing the controller up in the air in celebration.

Charlie stood paralyzed, in disbelief at what had just happened. He, who had always been unbeatable in that game, had lost... because of his nails!

Mike looked at him with a victorious smile.

“I guess you owe me a wish, huh, Charlie?”

Charlie, still a little disconcerted by the defeat, but relieved to finally have been distracted by something other than his new daily responsibilities, let out a slight smile. It had been a long time since he had had this much fun, and as strange as the encounter had started, the game brought a bit of normality back into his life. For weeks, he had lived only on daily tasks and the exhausting routine at the mansion. That moment with Mike made him feel that, somehow, he was still the old Charlie.

But then, before he could savor the feeling of lightness, Mike, still with the smile on his face, said something that brought him back to reality.

“Okay, Charlie…” Mike said, in a casual but direct tone. “I think now we need to discuss the elephant in the room.”

Charlie immediately felt his nervousness return. He tried to keep his expression relaxed, but he knew exactly what his friend was referring to.

“What elephant?” Charlie tried to disguise it, his voice trembling slightly.

Mike laughed, shaking his head.

“Come on, man. There’s no point in running away from it. All that make-up… the flawless makeup, the perfectly painted nails…” He paused, looking his friend up and down. “It doesn’t go at all with those men’s clothes… plain, boring.”

Charlie fell silent, feeling his cheeks flush once more. He knew Mike had been waiting for this moment ever since he’d walked into the house, ever since he’d noticed the makeup on Charlie’s face that morning.

“What do you mean by that?” Charlie asked, even though he knew the answer.

Mike leaned forward, his gaze curious but friendly.

“I want to see the whole look. You’re all dressed up from the neck up, but those clothes… look out of place. And let’s face it, there’s no point in all that preparation to make the rest of it so… ordinary.”

Charlie was speechless for a moment. He had gone through so many changes in the last few months, both physically and mentally, but he had always kept one foot in his old identity. Wearing men’s clothes still gave him a sense of security, even if it was starting to feel like a contradiction to himself. He was hesitant to take this final step.

“I don’t know, Mike…” Charlie began, still uncertain. “This has all been happening slowly, it’s not like I want to change completely. I’m… I’m just adjusting.”

Mike nodded, but he didn’t seem satisfied with the answer.

“I understand, Charlie. I really do. But look…” he said, giving her a calm smile. “If you’re doing this, whether it’s out of necessity or choice, why not embrace it completely? For once? I just want to see how you’d look, you know? I promise I won’t judge. In fact, I think it’ll be fun. You owe me one, remember?”

Charlie sighed, remembering the bet. Mike had won, and he had agreed to grant one wish. Now it was clear what Mike wanted. Charlie was still nervous, but somehow Mike’s confidence and acceptance helped calm his fears.

— Okay... — Charlie finally gave in, still reluctant, but feeling that, somehow, it would be inevitable. — Just this once.

Mike smiled, satisfied.

— No rush. I just want to see the result of all the effort.

With that, Charlie got up and went to his room, where he knew he had some clothes more in line with the new role he was playing in Edward's mansion. This wasn't just a joke. It was the next step of something that, little by little, was becoming part of who he was.

When he returned to the living room, wearing an elegant skirt and a blouse that perfectly matched his makeup, he felt his heart race. Charlie was hesitant to take that step, but there he was, facing his best friend, completely transformed.

Mike, in turn, remained silent for a few moments, absorbing the image of his friend in front of him. Then, with a genuine smile, he stood up and said:

— You look amazing, Charlie. This is a full production.

Charlie blushed again, but this time the nervousness was replaced by a strange sense of... pride.

Mike, after spending a good amount of time with Charlie and seeing his friend completely transformed, got up to leave. The smile on his face was one of satisfaction, but also of relief. He was happy to see that, despite everything, Charlie was okay. Regardless of what had led his friend to follow this unexpected path, it was clear that Charlie was adapting, perhaps even better than he himself would admit.

Before leaving, Mike, curious as always, couldn't resist asking one last question.

"Okay, Charlie... now that I've seen the whole production, I just need to know one thing. What happened to make you... you know, embrace it all?"

Charlie smiled nervously, not knowing how to answer that question simply. There were so many layers of changes, small and large, that had brought him here. He thought for a moment, but before he could formulate an answer, Mike shook his head, as if realizing that the answer wasn't so important at that moment.

"You don't have to answer now. I'm just glad you're okay." It seems he’s adjusting, and that’s what matters.

Charlie smiled, relieved that he didn’t have to explain everything at once, and followed Mike to the door. As Mike was about to leave, he took one last look at Charlie. He noticed how his friend’s silhouette had changed: his body seemed slimmer, and his shapely legs, now highlighted by the skirt he was wearing, added an extra charm to his look. There was a lightness in the way Charlie moved, something that Mike couldn’t help but notice.

When he reached the door, Mike extended his hand, as if it were just for a last handshake between friends. Charlie, still thinking about the ordinary farewell he would have, extended his hand too. But to his surprise, Mike did something unexpected. Instead of just shaking hands, he calmly leaned forward, took Charlie’s hand delicately and, in a polite and old-fashioned gesture, kissed his friend’s hand as if he were courting a beautiful lady.

Charlie was completely speechless. The gesture was unexpected, and his face immediately flushed, as a mixture of surprise and embarrassment took over his body.

“See you next time, Charlie,” Mike said with a smile, his voice soft and playful, but with obvious respect.

Charlie, still processing what had just happened, just smiled, wordlessly, as Mike walked away, waving with a carefree lightness. Closing the door, Charlie leaned against it, taking a deep breath. It all still felt like a strange dream, but the lightness in Mike’s gesture, the smile, the acceptance… somehow, it all made Charlie feel less strange in his own skin.

--

On Sunday, Charlie woke up feeling different. He decided he needed a break from the exhausting and repetitive routine of the last few months, and decided to do something he hadn't done in a long time: splurge some of the money that had been accumulating in his bank account, without realizing it. It had been years since he had been to the mall, so he decided that the day would be dedicated to having fun. He thought about going to the movies, eating something tasty, maybe even something sweet and fatty – everything he had avoided for so long.

When he arrived at the mall, the atmosphere was vibrant and busy, as always. Charlie felt a slight nostalgia as he walked through the aisles and looked at the stores. It was like revisiting a part of himself that had been dormant. However, as he wandered through the shop windows, something unexpected caught his eye: a lingerie store. He stopped for a second, intrigued and a little embarrassed. He had never imagined that one day he would enter a place like that, but something was drawing him in. There was a curiosity that he couldn't ignore.

Without thinking much, Charlie took a few hesitant steps towards the store's entrance. When he finally crossed the threshold, he was greeted by a dazzling sight: a variety of lingerie pieces, in different shapes, colors and styles. There was delicate lace, soft fabrics, and models that ranged from discreet to provocative. He found himself enchanted by the beauty and elegance of the pieces, almost unaware of his own admiration.

As he looked through the racks, trying to appear as casual as possible, a saleswoman approached with a welcoming smile.

"Looking for a gift?" she asked kindly, already accustomed to hesitant men who entered the store with the same expression of uncertainty.

Charlie, taken aback, tried to hide it. His face flushed a little, and he nodded quickly.

"Oh, yes, it is... a gift," he replied, trying to sound confident, but without success.

The experienced saleswoman took a quick look at Charlie's smooth, well-groomed legs, something that did not go unnoticed by her. Not wanting to embarrass him, but with a discreet understanding, she quickly read the situation. Instead of stating the obvious, she adopted a more professional posture, as if the comment about the "gift" was true.

"I see. And the lady who will be receiving the gift..." she said, pausing briefly as she glanced at Charlie almost imperceptibly. "Does she have similar measurements to yours? If so, may I suggest something. Does she prefer something more discreet, sensual or flashy?"

Charlie was completely speechless for a moment. He didn't know what to say. It was clear that the saleswoman had understood the real reason for his presence there, but at the same time, she was being incredibly respectful and professional. He didn't know whether to thank her or run away. The question, however, echoed in his mind: discreet, sensual or flashy?

"Ah... I... think... something... a little discreet, but not too much," he stammered, still trying to maintain his disguise, but already accepting, internally, that the saleswoman knew exactly what was going on.

She smiled understandingly, nodding her head.

“Perfect. I have some pieces that will delight you,” the saleswoman said, before gently moving away to find the suggestions.

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He never imagined that he would be here, in a lingerie store, choosing something for himself – or, as he still preferred to believe, for a “gift.” What surprised him, however, was how naturally the saleswoman treated him. As uncomfortable as the moment was, he realized that there was something almost liberating in accepting his new realities, even if still hesitantly.

When the saleswoman returned with a few options, she held discreetly elegant pieces, with a touch of sensuality, exactly as Charlie had requested.

“These here are some of my favorites,” she said, showing the pieces. “They are soft, comfortable, but with a special charm.”

Charlie took one of the pieces in his hands, feeling the delicate fabric between his fingers. He took another deep breath and, with a small smile, finally accepted what was happening.

“I think this will be perfect,” he said, trying to sound confident, although he could still feel his heart beating fast in his chest.

The saleswoman smiled, pleased with his choice.

“An excellent choice,” she said. “I can gift wrap it, if you want.”

Charlie nodded, and as he left the store with the small bag in his hands, he didn’t know whether to laugh or hide.

As the saleswoman wrapped the “gift,” she couldn’t help but smile a little at the corner of her mouth. She hid her inner laughter, knowing exactly what was happening. This was a scene she had seen many times before. As soon as Charlie tried on what she was carrying, she was sure he would become a regular customer. All he had to do was take the first step.

When Charlie picked up the bag, the symbolic weight of his new discovery seemed to vibrate in his hands. He left the store with his heart racing, a mixture of nervousness and excitement growing inside him. He had never imagined that he would feel so intrigued by something that he had previously considered distant. The simple touch of the delicate fabric and the sensation of something completely new and different began to ignite a spark of curiosity.

As he walked through the mall, he couldn’t help but smile slightly. Something inside him was changing, and for the first time in a long time, Charlie was excited about this new journey of discovery.

--

On Monday, a typically busy day for Charlie, everything seemed to be going well. Edward was out of the house, involved in business meetings, leaving the mansion quiet, which gave Charlie the peace to carry out his tasks. The atmosphere was peaceful, and the routine flowed without interruptions.

Around noon, while Charlie was finishing organizing the rooms, the doorbell rang. He initially didn't pay much attention to it. He thought it might be a delivery or someone asking for directions. Ignoring the fact that he was dressed in his impeccable uniform—makeup, neatly styled hair, and the skirt that was part of the outfit—Charlie walked to the door and calmly began to unlock it.

But before he could even open it fully, a shrill voice echoed from the other side.

"Where's my boy?"

Charlie paused for a second, feeling a chill. Whoever it was, it didn't seem like they were just asking for directions. As he opened the door, the sight in front of him made his heart skip a beat. An older man with a stern expression and an inquisitive gaze was staring straight at him. The tension in the air was palpable.

The man looked Charlie straight in the eye, but quickly looked away, inspecting the figure in front of him from top to bottom. His face, which already did not look friendly, contorted even more in disgust. His voice, now even more agitated, made it clear what he was thinking.

"That's all I need," he said, his tone of contempt evident. "My son hiring your kind to take care of the house."

Charlie felt his face burn with shame and confusion. The initial shock did not give him time to react immediately. "Your kind" echoed in his mind, and he realized that he was face to face with Edward's father, someone he clearly did not expect to meet in this situation.

The man, still inspecting Charlie's meticulously groomed appearance, looked like he was about to explode into a storm of judgment, while Charlie tried to remain calm and understand how he had gotten himself into such a delicate and now completely out of control situation.

Charlie, shaken by the situation, began to stutter uncontrollably as he tried to talk to the man in front of him. The resemblance to Edward was undeniable: the features, the bearing, the hair — there was no doubt that this was someone from the family. Charlie, awkward and struggling to maintain some composure, stepped aside and politely offered:

“P-p-please, sir, come in... m-make yourself at home... Edward shouldn’t be long.”

The man gave him a look of contempt, as if each stuttered word Charlie spoke was an affront to his patience. Muttering something that Charlie couldn’t quite understand, but that sounded extremely heavy and full of disdain, the man took a step inside, but with obvious disgust. He made sure to move as far away as he could to avoid even the possibility of touching Charlie.

“You didn’t have to invite me. I already know the way,” he said coldly, walking towards the living room.

Charlie swallowed hard, watching as the man walked away, his disapproval etched in every movement. The visitor's hard gaze made it clear that Charlie's presence there, in that state, was not at all welcome. The tension that hung in the air was suffocating, and Charlie, now alone for a moment, felt vulnerable, his heart racing at the idea that this situation was about to get worse, with Edward still not showing up to save him from this imminent embarrassment. Charlie didn't know whether to cower in a corner of the mansion or try to continue with his tasks, but one thing was certain: the peace of that day was officially broken.

— Charlene? Charlotte? — Edward joked, with his usual cheerful tone, while he still couldn't decide what nickname to give Charlie. He always spoke lightly, as if nothing could spoil his mood.

But, before he could continue, his father's shouting voice echoed through the room.

— So, your experiment doesn't have a name yet? I see that your adventurous spirit of causing me grief is still sharp, isn't it, son?

Edward's expression changed immediately. The one that used to be always cheerful and carefree took on a serious, even intimidating tone. He fixed his father with a penetrating gaze, clearly already prepared for the clash.

— Well, Mr. Hopkins... — Edward said, sharply. — I see that once again you have found your way to my house. Let me guess: some debt that is difficult to pay off, perhaps?

The atmosphere grew tense, and Charlie, who had retreated to a corner, watched from afar, feeling more and more like an intruder in the confrontation between father and son.

“Intimidating as always, Edward,” old Hopkins retorted, his voice full of disdain. “I see you want to maximize your time to play with your ‘pet.’” The old man gave Charlie a disgusted look, using the word “pet” as if it were the worst of insults.

Edward, already tired of his provocations, took a step forward, his voice taking on a firm and threatening tone.

“One more word, one more joke that I don’t like… and here ends the money tap that always fills the hole of your debts. I don’t care to support your irresponsibility anymore.”

Hopkins widened his eyes for a moment, surprised by his son’s assertive stance, but soon regained his stern expression.

“Do you think that’s what’s expected of a rich son, Edward? To deny support to his own family?” — he teased, but Edward didn't give in.

“What is expected of a father, sir, is responsibility, not just a helping hand when things get tough.” Edward kept his gaze steady. “If you think you can pressure me, you are mistaken. Taking care of your debts is no longer my problem.”

The room fell silent, with an almost palpable tension. Charlie, witnessing the clash, realized that this was not the first time this dispute had happened.

Mr. Hopkins, realizing that Edward’s threat was real, quickly tried to back down. He knew that the generous checks that supported his addiction to women and gambling were about to be canceled. With a forcedly conciliatory tone, he tried to calm the situation.

“Now, Edward…” he began, trying to sound softer. “Let’s not lose our tempers over a misunderstanding. I understand what’s going on. Your heart, always so kind, took in a poor lost soul, this guy… without salvation.”

Charlie, who was at the back of the room, felt the impact of those words like a slap in the face. He lowered his head even further, trying to make himself invisible, while Hopkins’ false remorse echoed hollowly through the room.

Edward, however, limited himself to completely ignoring his father. Without changing his expression, he took out his cell phone, clicked a few times on the screen and, without looking at Hopkins, spoke with calculated coldness:

“I have no idea how much you currently owe, Dad.” So I took the absurd amount from last time and multiplied it by two.” He paused, casting a brief glance at the man. “But do me a favor: save it this time. My patience, unlike the amount I just transferred, has been cut in half.” 

The room fell silent. Edward’s gaze remained steady, and the tension that had previously seemed ready to explode now weighed like a cold shadow. Mr. Hopkins, realizing that the game had changed and that the chances of continuing to manipulate his son were fading, forced a smile, thanking him mechanically while, inwardly, he plotted his next move.

“You know the way to the door,” Edward said in a calm and quiet tone, his voice filled with a confidence that contrasted with the previous tension. “I would ask my servant to accompany you, but seeing as everything is so clean and organized, I believe the trash has already been taken out.”

The sentence, subtly sharp, cut through the air like a discreet blade. Mr. Hopkins, trying to maintain a victorious appearance, straightened up, as if control was still in his hands.

“It’s getting late, and I have many appointments to attend to,” the old man said, with an air of forced superiority. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving now. I have more important things to do.”

With a victorious smile on his face, he crossed the room with long strides, satisfied that he had achieved what he wanted—the transfer to his account. The door closed behind him with a final click, and the air in the mansion seemed lighter.

Edward sighed, relaxing again, while Charlie, still quiet in the corner, watched the situation unfold with attentive eyes. The rich son knew that this was just another chapter in the tumultuous relationship with his father, but, for now, he had maintained control.

Looking at Charlie, Edward instantly relaxed, as if all the weight he was carrying had disappeared in the blink of an eye. A calm smile took over his face, replacing the lines of tension that had marked his forehead moments before.

“What did I call you when I came in, what’s on the menu today?” he asked, with surprising lightness. “Now, more than ever, I feel like eating something splendid. I bet you prepared something divine!”

Charlie, still confused by the sudden change in mood, was speechless for a moment. All the tension, all the bitterness that had permeated the room seemed to have been swept away with Mr. Hopkins’s departure, as if nothing bad had happened. Edward, without giving Charlie any room to question what had happened, simply maintained that relaxed and friendly air, the face of the polite and charming boss.

Although still dazed, Charlie felt a deep relief. He realized that somehow Edward had defended him with subtlety and firmness, never letting the situation get out of hand. What mattered now was the present—the peaceful surroundings, the spotless house, and the fact that, strange as it was, he was being seen and treated with respect.

--

Edward leaned forward slightly, watching Charlie with curious eyes as he waited for an answer about lunch. Charlie, still shaken by Mr. Hopkins' presence and the tension that had been lingering for a few minutes, stammered a little before speaking:

"A thousand apologies, sir, but... I... I really didn't have time to prepare your lunch," he began, somewhat hesitantly, his fingers nervously touching the hem of his apron. "The atmosphere in the house was so charged with the visit that it seemed as if time... even though it seemed to take forever... passed in the blink of an eye. If you could forgive me, sir, I can prepare something simpler, more straightforward. It was my mistake, there are no excuses."

Edward, instead of showing any annoyance, let out a low, warm laugh, which made Charlie relax slightly. The boss leaned back, crossing his arms with a smile on his face.

"Ah, Charlie..." he said, shaking his head. — Trust me, if you made me some buttered biscuits and a squeeze of lemon in ice water, I would consider it a feast fit for kings.

He paused, his playful eyes softening the mood. — Don't worry so much about it. I know the atmosphere was tense. These meetings with my father always bring a heavy, almost suffocating energy. — Edward looked at Charlie again with a more serious expression, but without losing his tenderness. — I understand the circumstances, really. There's no need to apologize so much.

Charlie blinked, surprised by his boss's understanding and calm tone. That light and relaxed side of Edward always caught him off guard, and even with all the pressure he felt in his duties, that moment of relief made the burden seem lighter.

— Thank you very much, sir... — Charlie replied, finally allowing himself to relax. — I'll prepare something special for dinner, I promise.

Edward gave a slight nod, still with that comforting smile.

— Make yourself comfortable, take your time. Today, the only thing I really want is to feel lighter in this house, and you're doing an incredible job of that. Now, go prepare whatever you want, and remember, no pressure. If it's something simple, it'll be perfect anyway.

The atmosphere, previously heavy and burdened, now seemed lighter, as if all the tension had dissipated at Edward's calm words. Charlie left the room with new energy, feeling that, somehow, he had passed yet another test and emerged victorious.

--

Without further incident, Charlie’s day finally came to an end. He sighed in relief as he began to get ready to leave. The peaceful atmosphere of the empty house was a welcome contrast after the tension of the unexpected visit and the delicate moments with Mr. Hopkins. Charlie headed to the utility room to change, returning to his usual pattern. As he took off his uniform and put on his regular clothes, he paused for a moment, feeling the contrast of the simple fabric against his skin, after spending the whole day in an outfit that was now part of his routine. “Who would have thought I would get so used to this?” he thought, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It was then that his cell phone vibrated, interrupting his thoughts. He absently picked up the device and saw a message notification. When he opened it, his face lit up with amused surprise: it was a message from Mike. The message was adorned with little hearts, and in a teasing and friendly tone, it said:

"So, when will I be invited to eat some sweets at your house again? That afternoon was wonderful! I'm waiting for the invitation, huh, my friend 😘."

Charlie read the message once, twice, three times, and each time he felt his cheeks heat up. "Sweets, huh?" He thought, smiling nervously at his cell phone, not knowing whether to be embarrassed or amused by Mike's boldness.

A mix of emotions invaded him: the relief of an exhausting day, the lightness of the interaction with Edward, and now Mike's unexpected message, which brought back memories of the last time they spent the day together. That afternoon of video games and curious looks still reverberated in Charlie's mind, and the fact that Mike was clearly interested in repeating the experience left him confused, but... also intrigued.

Charlie laughed, shaking his head, not knowing exactly what to say. With a shy smile on his face, he finally typed back:

"How about next weekend? I promise to go all out on the sweets this time."

He hesitated for a second before adding:

"Just don't lose focus on the game again, okay. 😏"

When Charlie locked the back door of Edward's mansion, his body was tired, but the feeling of duty accomplished brought him brief relief. However, he had barely put the key in his pocket when he felt his cell phone vibrate again. With a mixture of curiosity and tiredness, he picked it up to check. Another message from Mike.

"Hey, I almost forgot... I have a little favor I wanted to ask you."

Charlie frowned, intrigued, as he read the rest of the message:

"You know that beautiful lady who kept me company the other day? I think I want to see her again."

He blinked in surprise, feeling the heat rise up his neck. "Beautiful lady?" Charlie bit his lip, already sensing where this was going. Before he could even process a response, the next message appeared:

"This time, I want a formal introduction, okay? 😉"

Charlie froze. He didn't know where to hide his head. His face flushed, and he looked around, as if afraid someone had seen what he had just read. It was obvious that Mike wasn't just joking; he knew exactly what he was asking. Charlie held the phone tightly, taking a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart. The idea of ​​appearing "dressed up" again like the other day made his stomach turn. At the same time, he felt a kind of electricity running through his body. Mike was, somehow, instigating a part of him that was still adapting to this whole new reality. The "girl" Mike wanted to see was himself, and Charlie still didn't know how to fully react to that. After a few seconds, he laughed nervously, unsure if he should ignore the message, respond sarcastically, or simply try to clarify the situation once and for all. However, instead of a definitive answer, he chose to postpone it, sending something more vague to buy time:

"I'll think about your request... 😅"

Still in shock at his friend's boldness, Charlie put away his phone and walked home, Mike's words hammering in his mind. He knew that this meeting could change the course of his life even more... he just wasn't sure how.

--

The week passed peacefully, and as Thursday wore on, Charlie allowed himself to relax. Edward's house was spotless, tempers had calmed after the confrontation with Edward's father, and even Mike's insistent messages had taken a back seat as he focused on his routines. However, with the weekend drawing ever closer, Mike's words began to echo in his mind again. His friend's curiosity didn't seem to have faded, and Charlie's almost-promise of a reunion began to weigh on his shoulders.

Charlie chuckled to himself as he found himself planning the date. "Date? With my best friend?" He repeated the words out loud, and the sound of them echoed surreally in the empty room. How had he gotten to this point? He had never imagined he would be in this situation: preparing to impress someone he had known forever, but this time, in a totally new and unexpected way.

"If I'm going to do this," he thought, "I'm going to do it right." And then he started to imagine what he would prepare for the date. Maybe cookies and more elaborate desserts, something that would impress. Then he thought about his hairstyle, since his curly hair was growing out and now had a fluffy texture that was easy to style. "Maybe a bow? Something simple but elegant?" His mind was so immersed in the details that, for a moment, he forgot that he still had to solve the main problem.

And then it hit him. He had nothing to wear.

"Oh, man..." He threw his head back and covered his face with his hands, sighing. "I can't believe I'm getting ready for a date with my best friend, and all I have are these uniforms I wear here at the mansion!" He talked to himself, as the absurd implications of the situation became even clearer.

Charlie wasn't the type to leave anything half-done, and if he was going to do something, he would do it well. But now the problem was different: where and how would he find time to go downtown and buy an outfit for the date? He didn't want anything extravagant, but he also didn't want to look like he hadn't put in the effort.

"I don't even know how to choose this kind of thing," he thought, still in doubt, as he ran his hand through his hair and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Maybe he could go to that lingerie store he'd been to recently... The saleswoman seemed friendly, maybe she could help him find something discreet but pretty. After all, he already knew she understood the situation.

He picked up his phone, hesitating for a moment before opening the app and looking at Mike's messages again. "Does he really want me to do this?" he asked himself silently. The answer seemed obvious, but it was still hard to accept.

Making up his mind, Charlie began to think about how to rearrange his schedule. He would go downtown on Friday afternoon, pick out something special, and get everything ready for the big meeting that weekend. As the plan formed in his mind, he felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. This would be one of the most different weekends of his life, and something told him that after this, nothing would be the same again.

On Friday, one of the busiest days of the week, Charlie was busy with his chores. The usual routine—immaculate organization, meticulous cleaning, and careful preparation of meals so that everything would be in place when he left for his weekend of rest. Edward was demanding, and Fridays were therefore the busiest days, as Charlie had to make sure that nothing was missing while he was away.

But as he ran back and forth between the rooms of the mansion, Mike's words echoed in Charlie's head again. "I want to be formally introduced to that beautiful lady..." — the echo of the messages distracted him, creating a surreal scenario for his busy mind. Charlie knew he had made an unofficial promise, and as the weekend approached.

The sound of keys being removed from the key rack at the entrance to the mansion echoed through the house. Edward's footsteps approached, and soon came the phrase that seemed planned for that moment:

"I need to go to the mall to pick up a package," Edward said casually.

Charlie almost smiled at the idea that had come to his mind—a golden opportunity! He could accompany his boss, quickly buy a suitable outfit, and return to his duties. Everything seemed perfect.

But like a bucket of cold water, Edward added: "From there, I'm going to a meeting with a client and I shouldn't be back until late in the evening."

Charlie felt his plan fall apart in an instant. The chance to quickly escape to the mall and solve the clothing dilemma had evaporated, leaving him feeling frustrated. He shook his head discreetly, realizing that he would have to think of another solution—fast.

"Boss, I have an unusual request," Charlie began, his voice shaking with fear of what he was about to ask. He had already anticipated the refusal, but he had to try. "Could you stop by a women's store and buy me a dress? It's just that, well, I don't know how to explain it..."

Edward raised his eyebrow in surprise, but quickly responded with disconcerting calmness: "Well, don't explain it, just tell me what you have in mind. Casual, simple, chic... name it, and I'll ask Beatriz to tell me where I can buy it on the way. I don't think it will take much time, I just need to detour inside the mall itself."

Charlie's eyes widened, open-mouthed at his boss's quick and helpful response. He definitely hadn't expected something so positive.

"I... didn't think about that," he said, still surprised. "Maybe something chic... or casual too... Wait, not too short, but not too long. After all, these are hot days."

Edward laughed softly. "Understood, something elegant but appropriate for the heat. Don't worry, Charlie, I'll take care of it. And maybe Beatriz will have something else to suggest." He winked before grabbing his keys and going on his way, leaving Charlie in a mix of relief and anticipation.

Charlie stood there for a few seconds, still processing what had just happened. He never imagined that asking his boss for a dress would be so simple... and so surreal.

On the way to the mall, while the radio played a soft melody in the background, Edward found himself reflecting on what had just happened. He smiled, almost without realizing it, as he remembered that unexpected request from Charlie – a request for a dress. The skinny, insecure and inexperienced boy of some time ago was now so involved and dedicated to that role that he found himself discussing details of women's fashion with him naturally.

It was curious. Charlie's transformation was not limited to just his appearance or the way he performed his tasks. He had become a fundamental presence in Edward's routine, a piece that fit perfectly. And the boss couldn't help but reflect on how much that path had been paved with a subtlety that, little by little, was revealing itself to be admirable.

Edward chuckled softly as he remembered the cookies. Whenever Charlie tried a new recipe, he didn't just make them ready – they came wrapped in delicate pink paper, decorated with neat little bows, as if they were handmade gifts made with silent affection. This went far beyond what any contract provided for. It was a gesture of affection, of care, something that showed that Charlie was not just doing a job, he was building something bigger, a safe and comfortable place for both himself and his boss.