Lena watched them all—these people who had carved out a family from the margins. She thought about her own journey: the years of confusion, the night she’d finally said aloud to her mirror, “I am a woman,” and felt not relief but terror. The friends she’d lost. The mother who still called her by her deadname. And then, this place. This haven.
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Later, as the crowd thinned and Sam locked the front door, Lena stayed behind to help stack chairs. “That was brave,” Sam said quietly. Lena watched them all—these people who had carved