I’ll transfer you the money

— And that’s when we realized that if we applied this strategy... — John continued with the same enthusiasm, as if nothing had changed. As if Jake were still sitting across from him, the same Jake they used to drink coffee with in the conference room, discussing projects and griping about management. But no. Jake was no longer here.

Now it was Jessica sitting in front of him. Wearing makeup, with long silky hair she absentmindedly twirled between her fingers. She looked at John but heard nothing. All the endless business talk that once seemed important now irritated her to the core.

‘Was this ever actually interesting?’ she thought, feeling her irritation grow. John's voice, with its confident tone, awkward pauses, and strange conviction in his own importance, drilled into her consciousness like an incessant buzzing. She used to be able to talk about these things for hours. But now? It all seemed empty. Meaningless.

— Yeah, cool, — Jessica finally interrupted him, trying to mask just how sick she was of all of it. — You know, I don’t do this anymore.

John frowned, his fingers, nervously fidgeting with a napkin, froze.

— I know... — He hesitated slightly. He had noticed long ago that ever since Jake became Jessica after that voluntary experiment, everything had changed. But John still held out hope. They had been friends, best friends, and he wanted to support him, especially after the news that had stunned even John: the lab wasn’t going to change Jake back. The experiment was over. "Unforeseen consequences," they said. There would be no compensation either.

Despite all of this, John still clung to hope. He believed that somewhere inside was still the same Jake, just... different now. But every conversation with her shattered that illusion. Tonight's dinner was no exception.

— I just wanted to say, — he exhaled, — that if you ever need help... financially, emotionally, whatever... you know I’m always here.

Jessica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then folded her hands on her lap, frowning slightly. Her gaze, heavy and piercing, finally met John’s face, where a flicker of uncertainty now appeared.

— Why did you invite me here? — she asked bluntly, her voice quiet but carrying an undercurrent of exhaustion. It wasn’t the tone John was used to hearing from her—it was cool, with a hint of detachment, like a wall had formed between them that he couldn’t figure out how to get past.

John faltered a little, his shoulders tensing. He clearly hadn’t expected that question. It used to be simpler—they could just sit at a table and chat for hours, losing track of time. But now... now it was like she was someone else.

— I just… wanted to see you, — he began, carefully choosing his words. — To talk. Like we used to...

— Like we used to? — her tone sharpened, and she leaned forward slightly, her gaze now piercing. — Do you really think that’s possible?

She crossed her arms over her chest, and in that moment, John wanted to disappear under her scrutinizing stare.

— Jay... — He tried to continue, but her look stopped him.

— Stop it, John. Don’t call me that like you’re still talking to Jake. — Her words came out more forcefully than he expected, and mentally, he took a step back. — You invite me here, try to talk as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed. Everything. — She emphasized the last word.

John sighed heavily, looking at her like a stranger. He couldn’t even admit to himself how deeply this hurt him.

— I just... thought I could help you, — his voice trembled with betrayal. — We were best friends, right? I thought you were feeling better and...

— And what? I don't understand anything anymore. I was sure this dinner was just your way of getting me into bed. Come on, tell me, is that it or not?

John’s face instantly went pale, as if he’d been struck. He hadn’t expected such a direct turn, and her bluntness caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out. Jessica’s question hung in the air, the tension in the restaurant becoming palpable.

— What? — he finally forced out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing from her. — You... you think that’s what I want?

Jessica smirked, but there was no humor in it.

— Damn, I know you too well, buddy, — she spat out the last word with such contempt that John felt sick.

— Jess... — he started, but couldn’t find the right words.

— Don’t, — she cut him off sharply, as if swatting away his pathetic attempts to explain. — You think I don’t notice how you look at me now? How your gaze slides over me, but doesn’t see anything except what’s on the outside? You invite me to dinner, but it’s not to talk. It’s not just to catch up with an old friend.

— That’s not true! — he raised his hands defensively, but his words sounded too desperate, too weak.

— Oh, come on, John. I see right through you. — She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. — You’re still pretending that you see the old Jake in me. But deep down, you want something else. What did you think? That just because I’m in a woman’s body now, everything could change? That maybe we could have something “new”?

John swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten. He wanted to say it wasn’t true. That he just missed their old friendship, the time when everything was simpler. Something inside him twisted painfully. It hurt to admit that she might be right. He couldn’t fully understand his own feelings, but every accusing word chipped away at his confidence.

— I... — his voice trembled again, and he felt the fear of losing her forever taking hold. — I just miss you, Jess.

Her face tightened, her eyes narrowing. Jessica stayed silent for a few seconds, her eyes gleaming with suppressed anger. She ran her fingers through her hair again, but this time the motion was sharp, tense.

— Miss me? — she scoffed, but there was more bitterness than irony in her tone. — You know who you miss, John? Yourself. The life where I was part of your world, where you could feel comfortable. But here’s the thing: I’m not part of your world anymore. And honestly, I’m sick of it.

She stopped, pausing, searching for the words to continue. The anger she’d kept bottled up all this time finally erupted.

— You have no idea how infuriating this all is. Every morning I look in the mirror and see someone I can’t recognize. All this hair, the makeup... — she shook her head, glancing at her hands, the tips of her nails covered in polish she never would’ve worn before. — You know what’s funny? I like it. I actually like it, and it’s driving me insane.

She shot him a look full of disappointment.

— I used to hate everything I considered “feminine.” All that crap about makeup, dresses, manicured nails—I would’ve laughed in your face if you’d told me it would become part of my life one day. But here I am. I look at myself, and I’m drawn to it. And I used to hate it! Hate it! But now it’s... part of me. I can’t even tell who I am anymore.

Her voice cracked as she talked about her new feelings, and it seemed to terrify her more than anything.

— It’s not just about appearances, John, — she sighed heavily. — It’s about how I feel. My body... my desires. Everything’s changed. I used to know what I wanted, knew what I liked. Now... it all just disgusts me. I catch myself thinking things I never would’ve before. I like being the center of attention. I like when people look at me. And it scares the hell out of me. It’s like I’m betraying myself every day.

She turned away sharply, her voice now filled with desperation.

— I hated being weak. Always thought that "feminine" weaknesses were nonsense. And now? Now I’m a freaking receptionist, John. Do you know how that feels? I sit at a desk, smiling at everyone who passes by. I’m the face of the company. Just a face. People look at me like I’m some cute girl they can ask for directions or documents. I used to make decisions, be part of something important. And now? Now I just sit there and smile, with no say in anything. My whole career is a joke.

Her eyes met his again, but this time there was no anger—just deep, raw pain.

— I’ve lost everything I was proud of. And the worst part? I’m getting used to it. I’m getting used to being pretty and useless. I’m getting used to people liking me. It’s driving me mad, John, because that’s not me. But there’s nothing I can do about it.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back her emotions. It was all too much for her—this new life, the feelings, desires that conflicted with who she used to be.

— And you... — Jessica paused for a moment, her voice shaking with repressed anger and disappointment, — all you think about is sex.

She jerked away from the table, her movements quick and tense. The chair scraped loudly across the floor, drawing the attention of several people at nearby tables. John sat there, bewildered, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

Jessica froze for a second when John grabbed her arm, but quickly pulled away, as if his touch burned.

— Wait, — he said desperately, — that’s not what I meant, I swear! You misunderstood.

She turned to him. That look pierced him to his core, as if she could see right through him, exposing all his unconscious thoughts and desires. It felt like an eternity, though it was only a few seconds. Then she turned away, refusing to show any vulnerability. She was barely holding back tears, struggling to maintain her dignity. Her steps quickened.

— Text me how much I owe for dinner, — she threw over her shoulder without looking back. — I’ll transfer you the money.