Borrowed Youth, Forbidden Evening

“I’m heading out, everyone. Don’t wait up for me.”

The sentence fell lightly into the living room, almost casual, as if it didn’t carry the weight of a scandal behind it.

“Heading out? Like this? Where exactly do you think you’re going dressed that way?”

“To meet my boyfriend,” I replied, smoothing the sheer fabric of the black dress with a calm that surprised even me.

There was a brief, dangerous silence.

“My… my daughter’s boyfriend?” Mark finally said, his voice breaking on the last word.

“Well,” I shrugged softly, “yes. Technically, that’s how this story started. But now he’s my boyfriend.”

“You can’t be serious. That’s my daughter’s  body you’re wearing. That’s her life.”

“And I know that better than anyone,” I said gently. “Which is why we talked about it. A lot. She doesn’t want this insane body swap to turn into another prison for me.”

I walked toward the mirror, adjusting the neckline with practiced hands.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be trapped in this young body,” I continued. “Tomorrow I might wake up as a sixty-year-old man again. So while I’m here… I intend to live. Fully.”

Mark shook his head.

“But this is still my daughter’s body.”

“And I have her permission,” I answered calmly. “Not just verbal. Written. Signed. And for the record, she helped me choose this dress.”

Sophia crossed her arms, torn between anger and disbelief.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Of course I am,” I smiled. “Youth was never this honest the first time around.”

I picked up my purse and headed for the door.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I said, turning back one last time, “my boyfriend is already waiting outside. And I’d hate to keep him waiting on our first real date.”

The door closed behind me.

And with it, the last fragile boundary between who I was…
and who I was becoming.