“Ow…” I moan as my eyes slowly open and my body shivers in the cold December air. I glance over at my phone, which reveals that the time is 8:05am and today is Monday- which causes me a moment of panic before I remember that today’s date is the 18th of December and we broke up from college a week ago, meaning I’m under no obligation to get up early today- or at all, if I don’t want to. As I lay in bed, memories of exactly why I’m this hungover on a Monday morning come flooding back to me- and put very conflicted feelings in my heart.

Last night’s party was to celebrate the 21st birthday of my best friend, and to say it was extravagant would be putting it mildly. Everyone was wearing their fanciest clothes- I myself wore a very form-fitting strapless dress with ridiculously high-heeled matching shoes- we girls wore our thickest make-up, poshest jewellery and strongest perfume, while the boys wore their most expensive aftershave. The decorations at Charlotte’s house were ornate and elaborate, the food and drink was exquisite, and Ophelia herself was at the centre of everything, looking every bit like a princess… With her Prince Charming glued to her side throughout the whole evening.

When I eventually stumble through to the living room, I’m unsurprised to find that Ophelia is already awake (she’s not much of a drinker so naturally wouldn’t have much of a hangover) and preparing breakfast- and Telemachus is by her side helping her.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Ophelia says with a happy grin. “I trust that you are not too much the worse for wear after last night?”

“I’ve had worse hangovers,” I moan. “How are you two this morning?”

“We are well, thank you Jacinta,” Telemachus replies in his refined, deliberate voice. “Though I will admit that last night’s party was considerably more energetic than I was expecting.”

“Birthday celebrations often are,” Ophelia explains before I have the chance to speak. “Especially for one as significant as the 21st. My friends wished to celebrate this occasion with me, and it would be rude to decline their request.”

“Very well,” Telemachus says. “Though on the occasion of the anniversary of my birth next month, I shall only require the company of one of my friends.” I force a smile on my face as Telemachus gently kisses my BFF on her neck- and Ophelia, someone who usually bristles at unexpected physical contact, actually giggles at this gesture!

“Is- is it your birthday next month, then?” I ask.

“It is,” Telemachus replies. “I was born on the 19th day of January in the year one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine."

“…Cool,” I say. “My birthday’s February 2nd, so it’s cool that we’re all, like, within a few weeks… Umm…” My voice trails off as I realise precisely how much of a ‘third wheel’ I am currently being.

“…Well we will be sure to celebrate your birthday as well, won’t we?” Ophelia asks her husband.

“Absolutely,” Telemachus replies. “Your friendship is beyond valuable to the both of us, Jacinta.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. “My birthday’s on a Friday next year so I’ll probably head back to Brighton for the weekend, see my dad… Do- do you not want to see your family on your birthday, Telemachus?”

“My family do not exactly approve of the choices I have made for my life,” Telemachus replies coldly. “I do not intend to spend Christmas with them, either.”

“Oh, umm, that- that’s a pity…” I mumble.

“And you are of course aware of my relationship with my family,” Ophelia says, making me grimace and nod. “Though it is ironic that they would disapprove of our marriage for very different reasons than yours, agapi.” I have to bite my lip to keep myself from grimacing at Ophelia’s use of her pet name for her husband- like everything to do with the couple, its use is very deliberate and elaborate, and while it sounds entirely artificial, it suits both of them to a T.

“I remember you telling me,” Telemachus replies. “I cannot comprehend how one could live one’s life in such a manner, without dreams or aspirations.”

“They are what they were made,” Ophelia says as I grow increasingly uncomfortable. Conversations like this have become commonplace over the last few months- Ophelia and Telemachus will talk about their lives, about their courses, about their hopes for the future- and I’ll look in from the outside, knowing that even though this is my home, I no longer have any place here.

I suppose it could be worse, of course- Ophelia is still my BFF, and Telemachus is friendly enough- well, maybe more ‘polite’ than ‘friendly’- and I still have all my other friends as well. But for the first time ever, I feel singled out, self-conscious about who I am- which just adds guilt to my misery as I’m forced to accept that I’ve had life a lot easier than many other transgendered girls. Many of my friends in my ‘fellowship’ have told tales about how they were rejected by so-called friends or family. Even Jamie, the millionaire celebrity, has had more than her fair share of hardship concerning her transition. But maybe I’m overreacting- after all, it’s not like Ophelia has rejected me, as such. She’s just found something she likes better than our friendship…

A short while (and two very strong cups of coffee) later, I walk through the front entrance of a nearby coffee shop, where a grin quickly spreads across my face as I’m greeted by a usual feminine cheer.

“Hey there, girliest of girlies!” Katie giggles as I approach the already-packed table, doing a quick twirl in my long-sleeved black bodysuit and tight tartan miniskirt.

“Thanks!” I giggle, sitting down and straightening my skirt as my warm drink is handed to me. “Everyone still hanging after last night, then?”

“Some more than others,” Lauren says with a smug grin as she points to the other married couple in our group, both of whom are wearing oversized sunglasses despite it being freezing outside.

“Want us to keep the volume down?” I tease the two young women, both of whom groan with pain.

“Keeping the volume ‘off’ would be better,” Nikki moans. “Especially as I’ve got my community service in a bit.”

“Ugh, sucks that you still have to do that,” Katie snorts. “Should’ve punched Dannii a few more times if you were gonna be punished anyway.”

“Heh, probably,” Nikki sighs. “So where’s the birthday plus one girl today, then?”

“Have a guess,” I reply, making the others sigh and/or roll their eyes. “You were pretty much there with the ‘plus one’, heh.”

“I suppose I can’t blame them,” Lauren shrugs. “This morning I found it hard to peel myself off of Michael.”

“Emphasis on ‘found it hard’,” Katie teases, giggling as Lauren gives her a playful shove. “Ahh… Yeah. Guess I am a little jealous, especially at this time of year, having a nice, beefy chunk of man flesh to cuddle up to is the best cure for any hangover.”

“You’ll find one soon,” Nikki reassures the freckled girl. “I can start dragging along some of the guys signed to Heavenly Talent to our regular parties, if you’d like?”

“…Maybe in the new year,” Katie replies with a devilish grin. “Maybe, say, the first or second regular party of the year?”

“Remind us again whose birthday is January 11th?” Sarah teases, which widens Katie’s grin.

“Ugh, enough birthday talk,” I moan, earning quizzical stares from my friends. “…Telemachus’s is January 19th and he and Ophelia are already planning it, heh.”

“The 19th is a Friday next year?” Nikki shrugs. “Let me know what type of party he’d prefer and I’ll see what I can arrange, I’m sure Charlotte won’t mind.”

“That’s just it,” I sigh. “The type of ‘party’ he wants is him and Ophelia and no one else.”

“Can’t blame him for that,” Lauren shrugs. “Not everyone’s a party animal, and he did look uncomfortable last night. Then again, Ophelia kinda did as well, heh.”

“I’ve got to admit,” Sarah says, “at first, I was sceptical, but those two are SO made for each other.”

“Totally,” Katie concurs. “Maybe even as much as you two, heh.”

“…Nah,” Nikki says, giggling as she pulls her wife into a tight hug and they link their fingers in their own unique way.

“D’aww,” Lauren giggles. “Stop being perfect, you two!”

“Never,” Sarah replies. “And you two will get your Prince Charmings soon. You’re both far too hot not to, hehe! And believe me, I know a thing or two about hot women!” Lauren, Katie and I sigh happily again as Sarah and Nikki exchange another gentle kiss.

“I guess,” I shrug, though as appealing as ‘Prince Charming’ sounds right now, I’d be more than happy just to have my fellow ‘princess’ back in my life full time.

This new routine continues for the rest of the week, up to and including our friend’s Viks’s birthday party- yes, yet another one- on Thursday and the final regular night out of the year on the Friday- neither of which Ophelia or Telemachus attended, choosing instead to stay indoors curled up on the sofa reading. A part of me agrees with Lauren, that they can’t be blamed for preferring each other’s company, and that Ophelia was never really a party animal to begin with- but a part of me still misses having my BFF next to me whenever I go out, and there’s a part of me that worries about whether it’s her choice to stay in, or whether she’s being ‘influenced’ by her husband…

Saturday morning begins much as Monday morning’s did, with a hangover and a cold room, but unlike Monday, I have a reason to get out of bed and get ready to leave the house early, as I’m reminded by the large suitcase at the bottom of my bed. After showering and pulling on a cute black skater dress, a pair of warm black tights and a pair of flats, I grab the suitcase and head through to the living room, where I sigh when I see Ophelia and Telemachus sat together in their usual positions on the sofa, just like every other day. However, today is most definitely not like just every other day, and not just because it’s the day before Christmas Eve.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Ophelia says, barely tearing her eyes away from her husband as she addresses me.

“Hi you two,” I say, biting my lip as I try to word my next sentence as delicately as possible. “I’m, umm, heading to the station in a bit… Heading down, you know, to Brighton…”

“Of course,” Ophelia says, frustrating me as she stays rooted to our sofa.

“…Are you coming too, or staying here all over Christmas?” I ask, deciding that as tact isn’t getting me anywhere, I may as well be blunt about it.

“I, umm,” Ophelia replies hesitantly, immediately tipping me off to the fact that I’m probably not going to like what she has to say.

“We have decided,” Telemachus explains, ”that- umm…”

“We do not wish to impose on your father any more than necessary,” Ophelia says, confusing me- dad has never seen Ophelia as an imposition, in fact, the opposite is usually true. Dad adores Ophelia, and I know she feels the same way toward him- he’s certainly been more of a parent to her than her ‘real’ mother, after all. Obviously, she now adores someone more than dad- making me wonder just whose idea it is not to go to Brighton.

“You don’t impose, you know that, he’s told you often enough,” I retort.

“WE do not wish to impose,” Ophelia says, clarifying what I already knew.

“And you wouldn’t,” I say. “You BOTH wouldn’t. Telemachus, you’ve met my father, you know he’s a decent guy, wouldn’t mind you staying over.”

“I am not comfortable with the idea of celebrating Christmas with the family of another person,” Telemachus replies in a voice barely louder than a mumble. “I would much rather spend it with my family.” I try to suppress a frown as Telemachus pulls his wife into a tight hug- a gesture that causes the usually touch-phobic Ophelia to giggle excitedly.

“And how would you have spent it if you hadn’t married Ophelia?” I ask, smirking as Telemachus bite his lip, clearly having to think about his answer.

“I do not know,” Telemachus confesses. “Certainly not with my own family.” I decide not to press the issue about Telemachus’s family- I don’t know the whole story there, after all, and I can easily believe that both he and his family could be to blame for their estrangement. Instead, I decided to try to build bridges, rather than break them down.

“…Why not become a part of ours?” I say. “You don’t want to spend Christmas with another person’s family, I get that, but you’re married to Ophelia, she sees my dad as like her dad, so that technically means you’d be spending Christmas with your own family, right?”

“You must admit that her argument makes sense,” Ophelia says, making me smile- she obviously not totally under Telemachus’s thumb. Well, not yet, anyway…

“I would still much rather spend Christmas with just you,” Telemachus says softly.

“What would you prefer, Ophelia?” I ask, instantly grimacing the second the words leave my mouth- disregarding his opinions isn’t exactly the best way to convince Telemachus to come to Brighton with us, after all.

“I would prefer to spend Christmas with those that I love,” Ophelia replies. ‘Those’ as singular or plural? I think to myself as Telemachus gazes into his wife’s eyes and lets out a gentle sigh, instantly bringing a smile to both my and my BFF’s faces.

A short while later, the three of us- along with bulging suitcases- stride through the front door of my father’s house, and a wide grin spreads across his face as he sees myself and Ophelia walk through the front door. Much to my delight, his grin widens further when he sees that Ophelia’s fingers are linked with her husband’s.

“Merry Christmas!” Dad says, greeting myself and Ophelia with loving hugs and Telemachus with a firm handshake. “So glad you’re here. So glad that you’re ALL here.”

“Thank you, mister Hanley,” Telemachus says in a shy, quiet voice.

“Friends of Jacinta and Ophelia can call be Mike,” dad insists. “That goes double for Ophelia’s husband, heh!”

“Okay… Mike,” Telemachus says with a hesitant chuckle as I smile- ten seconds in and already Telemachus is being made to feel like part of the family, as I knew he would be.

“So then, he treating you okay?” Dad asks Ophelia, who giggles nervously- she’s obviously as hopeful as I am that Telemachus and dad get along well.

“He is my prince,” Ophelia replies, “and treats me like his princess.”

“Good, I’m glad,” dad says as he flops down into his usual chair and gently runs his fingers over mum’s urn. “All husbands should.”

“You have no reason to worry about us,” Ophelia says with a smile.

“Good,” dad repeats. “You- you didn’t want to go to see your family, then?” Obviously, this question was directed at Telemachus, which makes all three of us bristle.

“…My relationship with my family is not currently a positive one,” Telemachus says coldly. “They neither approve of my lifestyle or my relationship, particularly my- I mean, our marriage.”

“Pity,” dad shrugs. “If I was married to someone like Ophelia I’d want to show her off to my family, even if I was only eighteen.”

“If it were my choice, I would show Ophelia off to the whole world,” Telemachus says, smiling happily as he gazes into my BFF’s eyes. “I just wish that there were those who were willing to listen.”

“Well I’m willing to listen,” dad says with a smile. “And I’m certainly not going to say no to a new pseudo-son-in-law.” Way to make me feel inadequate, dad, I think to myself.

“Thank you, mis- Mike,” Telemachus says with a smile. “My hope is that one day my family shall accept me for who I am and respect my choices. However, I do not hold out any hope.”

“Have you met his family yet, Ophelia?” Dad asks.

“Not yet,” Ophelia says. “They live in the north of England and we have been busy at university, so have had little time to go and see them.”

“Where in England are you originally from, Telemachus?” Dad asks.

“I was born in the city of Wolverhampton,” Telemachus replies, making dad chuckle with laughter.

“Yeah, I can tell by the accent,” dad says- which, much to my surprise, actually brings a smirk to the young man’s face. Suffice to say, Telemachus’s accent doesn’t sound like it comes from anywhere near Wolverhampton, or the rest of the West Midlands. “Wanderers are doing well this season.”

“I am not a follower of football,” Telemachus says, which makes dad smirk.

“Always nice to celebrate your hometown’s achievements, though,” dad says. “When Albion went up last season I celebrated for about a month, heh. And because you’re from Wolverhampton, you wouldn’t be accused of glory chasing either.”

“Thank you, but I shall decline,” Telemachus says, clearly growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

“We believe that a person’s hometown is a mere accident of birth,” Ophelia explains. “I am no more attached to Brighton than I am to London.”

“Fair enough,” dad shrugs. “Just glad I didn’t know in advance and get you a Wanderers shirt for Christmas, though you don’t strike me as a ‘football shirt’ kind of person anyway, heh.”

“No, thank you,” Telemachus says with a chuckle as he visibly starts to relax. “And there is no need to spend money on any gifts for me, your hospitality is more than I could ask for.”

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got to have something to unwrap on Christmas morning!” Dad chuckles. “Well, besides your wife, heh!”

“Heh,” Ophelia chuckles as she starts to blush.

“I, umm, I didn’t not buy any presents for you, though,” Telemachus says in a shy, quiet voice.

“I don’t mind,” dad shrugs. “I’m guessing this was a last minute decision to come here, so it’s fine.”

“We can always change the labels on my gifts so that they say they are from both of us,” Ophelia suggests.

“…No,” Telemachus says firmly. “It would not be proper to accept hospitality and not at least buy a Christmas present for our host. I shall buy one today once we have unpacked.”

“If you insist,” dad shrugs.

“If we may be excused,” Ophelia says, before leading her husband up to her room- or rather, my old room, which I've 'loaned' to them for the holiday period- to unpack.

“...It did take a bit of persuading to get Telemachus to come today,” I say, making my father smirk.

“I’m glad you did,” dad chuckles. “I will admit, I am a bit worried, though.”

“…I am a little,” I say with a grimace. “I’ve never known Ophelia to change so much and so quickly, you know?”

“Oh- I agree with you,” dad says. “But I’m more worried about you than her.”

“Wha- me?” I exclaim. “Why, exactly?”

“You didn’t say two words when I was talking to those two,” dad says. “You sat there, staring off to space… You’re either depressed or pissed off, so which one is it?”

“I’m not depressed and I’m not pissed off,” I reply, before letting out a long sigh. “…Okay, maybe I’m a little of both, I dunno.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I DO know,” dad says. “And I know why, too. Does Ophelia have any green contact lenses she can lend you?”

“I’m not jealous of Ophelia,” I scoff. “Sure, Telemachus is her type, but he’s not mine, you know?”

“I never said he was,” dad retorts. “And I never said it was Ophelia that you were jealous of.”

“Who else would I be jealous of, then?” I ask.

“Telemachus,” dad replies. “For stealing your BFF away from you.”

“I’d be a hell of a hypocrite if I was jealous, then,” I retort. “Given that I’ve been chasing after my own ‘prince’ for what feels like that last century.”

“Nothing wrong with feeling a little jealous,” dad shrugs. “Everybody is at some point in their life. Though I’d have thought you of all people would be used to change.”

“Change for the better,” I clarify as I gesture to my feminine body.

“I’m sure Ophelia thinks this change is for the better,” dad says.

“…Yeah,” I sigh. “And yes, that’s what’s got me jealous.”

“If she was with some football hooligan, then you might have a point,” dad says. “But you can’t argue that Telemachus and Ophelia aren’t made for each other.”

“She went from ‘happily single’ to ‘happily married’ in just a few days,” I feebly mumble.

“Because she met the right guy,” dad says. “And you will too. Though- wait a bit longer than two weeks before tying the knot with him, please?” I open my mouth to respond, but at that exact moment, Telemachus and Ophelia return to the living room and sit back down on the sofa.

“Thank you again for letting us stay under your roof, Mike,” Telemachus says.

“You’re welcome anytime,” dad replies with a smile. “Your wife should already know that.”

“And I do,” Ophelia says with an almost smug grin, which widens as her husband wraps an arm around her tightly-corseted waist.

“At least I can be sure you won’t make too much of a mess,” dad teases, before slowly rising from his chair. “And on that note, please try to not make a mess while I’m out.”

“Umm- what?” I ask.

“Got a ticket to the Watford game,” dad explains. “Probably gonna be late in the Christmas traffic but it was worth it to welcome the three of you home. So I’ll see you all at dinnertime, okay?”

“Umm, sure,” I say, looking on with surprise as dad grabs his coat and leaves us alone in the house. “…So, then…”

“Your, umm, house is very nice, Jacinta,” Telemachus says in a valiant but vain attempt to break the awkward silence that filled the room when dad left.

“Thanks,” I reply.

“This is where I lived for the year before I moved to London,” Ophelia explains, which unsurprisingly causes Telemachus to perk up.

“Then it is a very lucky house indeed,” Telemachus says softly, before exchanging a long, loving kiss with my BFF as I try not to fidget.

“Anyway…” I say, drumming my fingers on my knees. “Do you, umm, do you want to see some more of Brighton? It’s not exactly the right season for it, and the city centre’s going to be slammed this close to Christmas, but-“

“I would never pass up the opportunity to see more places where Ophelia walked,” Telemachus says, making me feeling simultaneously relieved to be able to leave the house and nauseated by the longing look he gives to Ophelia.

A short while later, the three of us are walking through the city centre, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, particularly the elaborate Christmas decorations. Naturally, many parents are out with their children, which means that naturally, the three of us get a lot of attention from passers-by. However, as this is Brighton, and it almost Christmas, Telemachus and Ophelia’s odd manner of clothing is largely written off as being a festive costume, and several people actually ask for selfies from the two of them. A couple of people actually ask for selfies from Ophelia as they (presumably) recognise her from the Angels’ Instagram feeds, with Ophelia’s birthday party having been a major event on their social media pages in the last week, Ophelia being known to be a Brighton native and she, of course, isn’t the most inconspicuous person in the world. Ophelia herself has no problem agreeing to these selfies- she (and I, occasionally) get these requests in London- but with every passing photograph, Telemachus looks more and more uncomfortable…

Eventually, after a spot of Christmas shopping (Telemachus insisted on picking up some gifts for my father), the three of us head to a small coffee shop for some lunch, where we’re all glad to take the weight off our feet- especially Ophelia in her 4” stilettos! We each pick up a drink and a light snack to nibble on, but as we’re sitting down at a table, I catch a glimpse of something that immediately makes me freeze, something I haven’t seen in a long time and hoped I would never see again.

“Ooh shit,” I breathe.

“Is there a particular need to be profane?” Telemachus chastises me. “Especially in the presence of children.”

“Yeah, it’s the children that are the problem,” I say, mentally adding ‘particularly those two children in the corner- or rather, their mother’.

“Strange, you do not usually think so,” Ophelia muses. “In fact, you often speak about how you enjoy being an auntie to children like Nikki’s sister, especially as you have no siblings of your own.” Yep, way to inadvertently hit the nail on the head, I think to myself as I let out a long sigh.

“That’s precisely it,” I sigh. “Out of the two of us, one of us is already an auntie… And your nieces are in this coffee shop.” I frown as I point behind Ophelia to where the unmistakable form of her sister Candice is sat with her two young daughters, both of whom are clearly exasperating the teenaged girl. However, it’s Ophelia’s emotional state that I’m most concerned with- and she is clearly in shock at seeing someone from her ‘family’ for the first time in almost three years. It’s almost certainly the first time she’ll have seen either of her nieces, too.

“Should- should we introduce ourselves?” Telemachus asks hesitantly. I’ve no doubt that Ophelia’s told him about her relationship with her sisters, and that she’s happier now that she has no relationship with them, but I can tell by the look on her face that there’s a tiny part of her that actually misses her ‘family’. That, and the chance to rub in Candice’s face that she’s succeeding at college, mildly famous in her own right and, last but not least, married may be too much for her to resist.

“…No,” Ophelia replies. “She is a part of my past. We shall eat and leave. She does not need to know that we were even in here.”

“Umm… I’m pretty sure EVERYONE knows we’re in here,” I retort.

“Candice was never the most observant person,” Ophelia says with a dismissive shrug. “She would likely not even recognise me even if I did speak to her.” Wow, I think to myself. That's pessimistic...

“You might be surprised,” I say softly. Candice (and her kids) are obviously here by themselves, her and Ophelia's mother is nowhere to be seen... Maybe Candice would actually want to see Ophelia... Certainly, her kids might want to meet their cool aunt. “Don’t you want to meet your nieces, at least?”

“My life would be no less complete if I don’t,” Ophelia replies, a definite trace of anger seeping into her voice.

“…Would they not technically be my nieces, too?” Telemachus asks, and immediately I start to feel guilty, for as much as I disapprove of Telemachus controlling Ophelia, on this occasion, we both share the same goal.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her!” Ophelia suddenly snaps- in her natural accent, no less- startling myself and Telemachus, not to mention many of the other diners around us. “…My apologies. I did not mean to lose my temper, but this is a sensitive subject for me."

"Maybe we- maybe we should find somewhere else to eat," I say softly. Even though Ophelia is more successful than Candice by any objective way of measuring it, the chance to gloat isn't worth all the stress it's causing her. She's even started to sweat- something Ophelia almost never does regardless of how tight she ties her corset.

"Perhaps that would be for the best," Telemachus says softly, returning to the counter to enquire about getting our food repackaged to takeout as Ophelia takes several deep breaths to calm herself down.

"Are you okay?" I ask my BFF, who sighs and nods.

"I will be once we're out of here," she replies. "You of all people should want to have as little contact with Candice as possible." I shudder as I remember the time I encounter the teenager in a nearby supermarket, when she accused me as loudly as she could of raping her, despite the fact that we were in a large crowd- and that she was shopping in the store after having been repeatedly banned from it for shoplifting.

"Yeah, that's true," I sigh. "I guess I just saw the kids and thought she may have changed, I dunno."

"That certainly never worked for my quote-unquote 'mother'," Ophelia retorts. "And Candice had a child with her the last time we saw her."

"Yeah, I guess," I shrug as Telemachus returns with containers for our food. "Thanks, Telemachus. There'll be somewhere nearby we can eat this, hopefully somewhere indoors, heh!"

"I shall let you lead the way," Telemachus says, giving his wife's hand a supportive squeeze. Before we can finish packaging away our food, however, we hear the sound we were all dreading- and a sound that instantly makes my whole body tense up.

"Mandeh?" The unmistakable, unrefined voice of Candice calls- and I can tell by the look on my BFF's face that I'm not the only one dreading what's coming next. "Mandeh? That you?"

"Just ignore her," I whisper.

"What would be the point in that?" Ophelia sighs. "Like you said, we are conspicuous. And this is the first time in my life I wish I wasn't."

"We will always support you," Telemachus says softly, but even this doesn't reassure my BFF as her younger sister approaches our table, dragging her squirming toddler with her.

"Mandeh?" Candice asks. "I knew it were yer!"

"There is no one sat at this table who answers to the name of 'Mandy'," Ophelia says in an almost angry voice. "My name is Ophelia Cassiopeia Love. And as far as I and the rest of the world are concerned, it always has been."

"Alright, don't need to bite my head off!" Candice snorts. "I ain't seen yer in two years and that's all you got to say? I thought we were sisters?"

"Really?" Ophelia replies. "You never seemed to when we were growing up."

"What's- well, yeah, I guess," Candice shrugs, silencing the three of us sat at the table- the Candice Lowe I know would never admit to anything like that. She also hasn't blinked twice at the fact that I'm sat just a few feet away from her. Or, more likely, she hasn't recognised me...

"Mummy, I want to go home!" The restless toddler tugging at Candice's arm whines, breaking the awkward silence.

"We'll go home in a bit!" Candice scolds. "Mummy's talking to your Auntie Mandy!" Naturally, this does nothing to calm the little girl, who starts crying when her mother turns her attention away from her.

"What's her name?" Telemachus asks, bringing a sneer to Candice's face- and, ironically, making it look a lot more familiar.

"Who are you?" Candice asks.

"Telemachus Charlemagne Percival," the white-haired teenager replies. "Ophelia's husband. And, as such, also the little girl's uncle."

"What- you're married?" Candice asks.

"Correct," Ophelia replies, gripping her husband's hand as they show off their rings. "And no, you may not tell our mother, I would prefer it if she did not know."

"Ugh, like that's gonna happen anyway," Candice snorts. "Ain't not talked to mum in months, she kicked me out when she stopped getting benefit for me." Naturally, this silences the table once again.

"I wish I could say that I was surprised," Ophelia says softly. "She was never fit to be a parent."

"Yeah, I'm only just realising that meself," Candice snorts. "Having me own is what made me see how useless she was."

"You will get no argument from me," Ophelia says with a warm, surprisingly genuine smile. "Please, would you sit? You and your children."

"What?" I ask, before grimacing as a look of realisation comes over Candice's face.

"Who- wait, ain't you the ladyboy?" Candice asks, making me roll my eyes.

"If you mean 'transgendered', then yes," I ask. "Are you going to accuse me of raping you again?"

"When'd I do that?" Candice asks.

"Do you want the precise time and date?" I ask.

"Whatever," Candice shrugs. "And yeah, I'll get my youngest, hang on a bit." I frown as Candice walks over to retrieve the stroller with her younger child, and as Telemachus and Ophelia look at me with concern on their faces.

"I can hardly blame you for reacting like that," Ophelia says. "But does she not seem different to you?"

"Well- maybe," I shrug, realising that the circumstances have again done a 180, as Ophelia is now welcoming her sister while I'm dreading the upcoming conversation. "She's not screeching her lungs out, that's a start."

"Very true," Ophelia says as Candice returns to our table and sits her squirming toddler on her lap. "You never did tell us your daughters' names, Candice."

"This one's Kelsie-Leigh," Candice says, gesturing to the toddler. "The little one's Maisie-Mae."

"Very... Interesting names," Ophelia replies, suppressing a snigger at the children's decidedly lower-class names.

"What, like yours is any better?" Candice sneers. Much to my surprise, Ophelia simply concedes the point rather than arguing any further. I immediately start to wonder if this is how she coped with life before moving out- and worry that she's falling back into old habits. However, I'm confident that Ophelia's not going to get bullied by her sister today- Telemachus and I won't let her.

"Do you live with their father?" Ophelia asks.

"Dunno who he even is," Candice snorts. "For both of them. Everyone told me to get knocked up so I can live on benefits the rest of my life, but that ain't gonna work 'cause I'll have to find a job when they're five, and I ain't got no qualifications either. Social nearly took the kids off me a couple of months ago, said I weren't raising them right."

"That's terrible," I gasp.

"Nah, they gave me a chance to, you know, learn how to be a 'proper' mother," Candice replies. "I weren't gonna say no to that. It were like going to school again."

"I know how much you hated that," Ophelia chuckles.

"I wish I didn't," Candice confesses. "Even if all our teachers were stupid. I wish I was more like you, you know? Going to university, that sort of thing." Naturally, this totally silences my BFF, and me too- there's no way the 14 year old girl I met a few years ago would ever have admitted to anything like that. Ophelia spent her whole life being looked down on by her family, and it's about time that changed.

"Thank you," Ophelia whispers.

"What- what are you doing for Christmas?" I ask hesitantly.

"Spending it at my boyfriend's," Candice replies, making me breathe an internal sigh of relief- Ophelia and Telemachus would be too polite to invite her to dad's house when they're guests themselves but I know they would want me to extend the invitation on their behalf.

"Where is he today?" Ophelia asks.

"At work," Candice shrugs. "We ain't, you know, serious or anything, not living together, like, but we do like each other."

"Good," Ophelia says softly. "Hopefully you will be able to find the happiness that Telemachus and I share."

The four of us (well, six including the increasingly-agitated children) stay at the coffee shop for another half an hour talking about the sisters’ lives, past, present and future, and exchanging contact details for future Christmases and birthdays. All throughout the talk, I feel more and more marginalised, and by the time we eventually leave the coffee shop, I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I barely pay attention to what Telemachus and Ophelia are saying to each other. However, Ophelia then says something that causes me to snap back to attention- and reminds me just how lucky I am.

“Candice is probably the biological sister I had the most contact with while I was growing up,” Ophelia muses. “However, Jacinta is far more my real sister than any of them. And almost certainly the only real sister I’ve ever had.” Naturally, this immediately brings tears to my eyes as Ophelia looks at me with a warm, genuine smile on her face- a smile that’s reflected by the normally stoic Telemachus.

“Then she is also the best sister-in-law one could have,” Telemachus states.

“…Thanks,” I sniffle, crying even more as Ophelia opens her arms and accepts a tight, sisterly hug from me- an even greater rarity than a Telemachus smile!

The rest of the day, along with the whole of Christmas Eve, is spent at home watching TV, helping dad prepare the Christmas dinner and sharing stories of past holiday seasons. With every passing second, the four of us grow closer as the family that we truly are, and once he realises that he’s among true friends, Telemachus begins to loosen up and genuinely seems to have fun, while Ophelia and I take the opportunity to spend some quality ‘sister time’ together. After so many years of Christmas being celebrated by just myself and my father, then the last few years being me, dad and Ophelia, celebrating with so many people in the house feels like a fairytale, or one of those old Christmas movies. The only thing missing is the four of us singing carols around a piano.

However, at the end of each night, my holiday spirit evaporates as I can’t help but feel sidelined when Ophelia and Telemachus walk upstairs together, hand-in-hand, while I’m left to sleep alone on the sofa bed. Ophelia might be my sister, but ‘Prince Charming’ trumps ‘sister’ any day of the week- something that I of all people should know.

Eventually, Christmas morning rolls around, and I’m awoken just after 6am by a sight that would have excited me fifteen years ago, but today, just confuses me.

“…Dad?” I ask the rotund, red-suited figure that’s crept into the room.

“Ho ho ho!” Dad replies, his voice muffled by the thick fake white beard covering his mouth. “Merry Christmas, little girl!”

“Seriously?” I ask. “I’m 21, don’t you think I’m a little old for Santa?”

“No one’s too old for Santa!” Dad replies. “Ho ho ho!”

“You said that already,” I say, before letting out a quiet giggle and laying back on the sofa bed. “Okay, fair enough. Just hope I’ve been on the ‘nice’ list this year, heh.”

“You? Always,” dad replies. “Ophelia and Telemachus too. Might have drawn the line at Candice it she’d come here today, though.”

“Yeah, kinda glad she isn’t,” I chuckle. “Still, it does show that anyone can change, I guess. And not into a Santa suit, either.”

“Yep!” Dad chuckles. “It’s clear who Ophelia thinks are her real family, though.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “She even flat-out stated it, and she’s not wrong either.”

“…But?” dad asks, making me sigh.

“It’s obvious she considers Telemachus to be more- well, ‘more’ than either of us,” I say. “And I get it, he IS her husband, it’s just- I dunno.”

“Yeah, it’s tough,” dad sighs, sitting down in his chair. “Kinda like when your only child goes away to university and has a brand-new circle of friends they hang around with, kinda like they’ve got themselves a new family.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I mumble, rolling over in my bed.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty,” dad sighs. “I said that because even though you have all these big, fancy friends with their millions of Instagram followers, come Christmas morning it’s this roof you’re sleeping under. And it’s this roof that Ophelia’s sleeping under as well, regardless of who she’s sleeping with.”

“Well- I guess,” I say.

“I KNOW,” dad insists. “You’ve been friends with Ophelia longer than Telemachus has. Longer than anyone else has. Whenever she has a problem- especially with Telemachus- it’s her sister she’ll need help from. And by ‘sister’ I mean her real sister, not any of those quote-unquote women that came out of the same vagina as her.”

“Thank you for describing it like that,” I say.

“And on that same sensitive topic,” dad says hesitantly, “you know that she’ll be there for you every second of every day after you have your operation next summer.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “She’s said as much there too. Though that was before she got married.”

“Well, lucky that you have so many other friends,” dad shrugs. “Quite a lot of whom have also been through that operation, right?”

“Yep,” I reply with a smirk as I remember the trip Ophelia and I took to London to welcome Nikki back following her SRS. At that moment, the living room door opens, and the extremely unfamiliar sound of Ophelia and Telemachus giggling together fills the room- and it’s fairly obviously what they’re laughing at.

“Ho ho ho!” Dad cheers. “Merry Christmas!”

“Season’s greetings, ‘Father Christmas’,” Ophelia replies between giggles.

“I’ll get some coffee going,” I say, wrapping my bedsheets around my cold body as I head through to the kitchen. “Unless ‘Santa’ would prefer some sherry?”

“Not before 7am,” dad replies, earning yet more giggles as he begins laying out the numerous gifts we have received.

The four of us receive the usual things- clothes, perfume and jewellery for myself and Ophelia, aftershave sets and football memorabilia for dad and smart clothing and fashion history books for Telemachus. We eat Christmas dinner at 1pm, finishing just in time for the Queen’s speech, before settling down in front of the television for the rest of the evening. I allow myself to relax as evening turns into night, dad’s word from earlier in the morning helping me to realise that as hard as we tried to get Telemachus to accept us as his new family, I also need to accept that he’s a member of my family, and that he’s quite possibly a more important part of Ophelia’s life than I am now. Like any ‘Prince Charming’ should be…

I wake up early on Boxing Day morning to get ready to head back to London, filling my suitcase with my clothes and my Christmas presents before Ophelia and Telemachus come downstairs hand-in-hand for the third morning in a row.

“Ah, good to see everyone’s up bright and early!” Dad chuckles as he enters the living room a few seconds behind my BFF and her husband. “Gonna be weird tomorrow waking up to an empty house, heh.”

“We shall return before long,” Ophelia reassures my father, who replies with a smile and a nod.

“I’m glad to hear it,” dad says. “I’ll drop you off at your flat first, reckon you’ll have a lot more gifts to open there, right?”

“If Nikki and Sarah have dropped them off,” I say.

“They always live up to their promises,” Ophelia reminds me. “They said they would drop them off after the gift exchange on Christmas Eve, and I believe them.”

“It’ll be good to catch up with them again,” I chuckle. “Think this was their first Christmas as a married couple too.”

“Yeah, that’s always a special feeling,” dad muses. “And I’m glad you’re looking forward to going back to London. You can never have too many friends, right?”

“Absolutely,” Ophelia concurs with a wide grin. “And you are also most certainly correct about celebrating one’s first Christmas as a married couple.”

“I’m sure you two will want some privacy once you’re back home,” dad says, causing me some confusion.

“…Thanks, dad,” I say. “Kick me out of my own flat on Boxing Day, then, when nowhere’s open?”

“Oh, there’ll be a few places open,” dad says with a smug grin, before tossing me one final present he’d obviously held back from yesterday- a present that, by the feel of it, contains an item of clothing.

“What, do I need a uniform to get in there?” I ask, unwrapping the present and letting out a half-chuckle, half-groan when I see what’s inside.

“Well… Kind of,” dad says as I hold up the item of clothing- a Brighton and Hove Albion F.C. replica shirt. “’Course, they’ll be playing in their away kit as the team they’re playing also plays in blue, but this’ll still count. There should be a ticket inside there too.” Indeed, when I shake the package, a slip of cardboard drops out with ‘Chelsea vs Brighton and Hove Albion’ written on it. “It’s been ages since we went to a game together.”

“Yeah,” I grimace. “No offence, dad, but last time we went to a game, I didn’t exactly, you know, have THAT much fun…”

“I get that,” dad says. “And there’s a reason for that- it’s because we went as father and son. I’ve never taken my daughter to a match before, and that’s something I intend to change.”

“And you did say you enjoyed watching the American Football game, did you not?” Ophelia asks. Another thing I went to to avoid watching you and Telemachus slobber over each other, I think to myself.

“I guess,” I shrug. “It’s just- there will be a LOT of people there, you know?”

“Jacinta,” dad says softly. “No one there is going to mistake you for a boy. No one. At all. Trust me.”

“There is nothing even remotely masculine about you,” Telemachus reassures me. “You are the type of woman my brothers would be deeply attracted to. If you will pardon the insult.”

“…Thanks, ‘bruv’,” I giggle, making the young man smile warmly. “Even when I’m wearing a football shirt, though?”

“It’s a women’s replica shirt,” dad shrugs. “I’m not going to buy you any male clothing now, am I?” I giggle as I check the label of the shirt to confirm that what dad says is true, before heading into the kitchen and returning a few seconds later in my new shirt.

“Don’t expect to see me wearing this every weekend!” I caution. “Especially not at Charlotte’s parties!”

“God forbid,” dad chuckles. “And it’s Tuesday today, not the weekend, so you’re fine. Now come on, traffic in London’s going to be hideous and I for one want to be on time for the match!"

After one final check that everything is packed, the three of us follow dad out to his car, stuffing his boot with our cases (and our numerous presents) before settling in for the long trip north to the capital.

We arrive in London just over two hours later and head into our flat to discover that our friends have indeed dropped off our presents from our ‘extended family’- Ophelia and I each have a large pile waiting for us, and gratifyingly, my new ‘brother-in-law’ also has a small pile of gifts waiting for him from Nikki, Sarah, Katie and Lauren- all of which are related to vintage men’s fashion and all of which Telemachus clearly appreciates a lot. Ophelia and I also appreciate our gifts from the rest of the girls- I particularly appreciate the two new clubbing dresses Sarah and Lauren made for me and the matching designer heels from Nikki, all of which I intend to try out soon!

The excitement surrounding my presents helps to distract me from what’s happening on the sofa in front of me- namely, Ophelia and Telemachus opening their presents together, even when they’re individual gifts for one of them but not the other. I’ve had three days of this at dad’s house, of course, but it makes me a million times more uncomfortable when it takes place in my home- precisely because it is in my home, reminding me that despite my friends’ reassurances, I am the odd one out. Suddenly, going to a football match doesn’t seem like too bad an option…

Dad and I take our leave of the couple just after 1pm and head along to Chelsea’s vast stadium, stopping at a nearby coffee shop for some lunch. As I’m nibbling at my Panini, I muse on how much the change to Ophelia’s life has affected my own, and how much it continues to change my life even three months later. Even when I was in a relationship, such as with Simon, I was still closer to Ophelia than I was to any boy. In fact, on reflection, I was closer to all the other girls than I was to Simon. Maybe this is the reason the relationship failed. Or maybe I’m just incapable of feeling about a boy the way Ophelia clearly feels about Telemachus. Or maybe there just isn’t a ‘Prince Charming’ out there for me at all? 3 and a half years of searching has yielded nothing, whilst Ophelia found her Prince Charming without even having to look at all. And yes, I am a little jealous that things seemed to fall so neatly for her.”

“Hey!” Dad says, startling me and derailing my self-pitying train of thought. “You looked like you were miles away there.”

“Yep,” I sigh. “Guess why, heh.”

“Ah, and here I was thinking that we’d made progress these last few days,” dad says with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Being home has kinda hammered it home that I’m the ‘third wheel’, heh.”

“Or ‘best friend’,” dad advises. “Or ‘fairy godmother’ if you’d prefer.”

“That second one doesn’t sound too bad,” I giggle. “I dunno. Maybe if I had a ‘Prince Charming’ of my own to cuddle up to it’d be different, I dunno.”

“Well if you’re looking to pick up a boy, you’re going to the right place!” Dad chuckles. “But going round and round in circles about Ophelia and Telemachus isn’t going to do anyone any good. Least of all you. I should be the last person to encourage you to jump in bed with someone, but, well, you DO kinda need to take your mind off of things, you know?”

“My own dad is telling me I need to get laid,” I sigh. “My life is officially OVER.”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” dad chastises with a chuckle. “There’s someone out there for you, Jacinta. I know it. You’re not going to still be single when you’re forty, or even thirty. And I kinda want to walk you down the aisle before I go too senile.”

“…You’re forty-nine,” I remind my father. “Hardly ‘going senile’. And you walked Ophelia down the aisle, didn’t you?”

“Do I really need to explain how that’s different?” Dad asks as we share a knowing smile. “Probably not going to find anyone in here, though. Everyone’s shirt is the wrong shade of blue, for starters!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, scanning the faces of the other diners before spotting something that makes my eyes widen.

“So much for not jumping into bed with the first guy you see,” dad says, having noticed my reaction. “What was that, ten, fifteen seconds?”

“It’s not THAT,” I say, finishing my Panini, grabbing my drink and standing up, which definitely confuses my father. “Besides, these two guys are married, anyway.”

“Even worse,” dad says, before reluctantly grabbing his drink and following me to the table where the two men who had caught my eye are sat.

“Hello BOYS,” I say with a smug, confident voice, giggling as the two young men are briefly startled before a look of realisation spreads across their faces.

“Hi Jacinta,” my friend Stuart- who is decked out in a Chelsea F.C. shirt- says with a heavy sigh. “Backing the losing side today, then?”

“We’ll see,” I say with a smug grin. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Stuart Milton and Keith Hartley, two good friends of mine. Guys, this is my dad Mike.”

“Nice to meet you both,” dad says as he shakes the hands of the two young men. “So you’re part of this ‘extended family’ I keep hearing so much about, then?”

“’Fraid so,” Keith chuckles. “Stuart a bit more than me, heh!” My smile grows smugger as Keith points to his friend's upper arm, below which is the bottom of a very distinctive tattoo- the same tattoo I have on the back of my shoulder.

“Ah,” dad says, instantly recognising the significance of the tattoo. “One of the ‘fellowship’, heh. Pity you’re a Chelsea supporter.”

“I’ll remind you you said that after we win,” Stuart snorts as he rolls down his sleeve.

“Ugh, BOYS,” I say, giggling as all three men roll their eyes at me.

“Seriously though,” Keith says, “it is nice to meet you, Jacinta’s always spoken highly of you.”

“I’m flattered!” Dad chuckles. “Maybe. I think. You two got any kids of your own?”

“One each,” Stuart says. “I’ve got a ten month old girl, Keith’s got a 2 year old boy.”

“With numbers two and three already on the way,” Keith says with a proud grin.

“Yay, just what the world needs, more Chelsea supporters,” dad says, smirking as he’s met by playful jeers from the two younger men.

“I say again,” I sigh. “BOYS.”

“Well I need to repark the car so I’m going to get that done now, but it was nice to meet the two of you,” dad says. “I’ll leave you three to it- make sure that you get Jacinta safely to the AWAY supporters’ end of the ground.”

“Will do,” Stuart says as he and Keith exchange handshakes with dad again. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” dad says. “Also, Jacinta’s desperate for a guy, so please set her up with someone nice?”

“DAD!” I hiss, my cheeks burning as dad leaves with a chuckle and I sit down next to my two friends. “SO embarrassing…”

“Nah, your dad’s cool,” Keith shrugs.

“And he didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know,” Stuart says, laughing as I give him a firm shove.

“Wanker,” I retort. “Just for that I hope Brighton DO win. And you end up covered in soda again!” I smirk as Stuart rolls his eyes and Keith chuckles at the memory of the former’s humiliation after this year’s FA Cup final.

“Yeah, I’ve been banned from making bets by my wife,” Stuart mumbles. “Which is probably for the best, heh.”

“We’re actually lucky we were even allowed out today,” Keith confesses. “Charlie, Jamie and the kids are treating themselves to a shopping day. I’m guessing you’d rather be there than here?”

“If I had the money,” I shrug. “And… Kinda yeah, kinda no. I mean, yes, shopping is WAY more fun than football, but it’s the company, you know? I hardly ever get the chance to spend time with my dad anymore, so it’ll be nice to do something together.”

“Ophelia otherwise indisposed, then?” Stuart asks.

“…Yeah,” I sigh.

“’Indisposed’ with Jacob Rees Mogg?” Keith teases, squirming as his insult earns an angry glare from me.

“Not fair,” I growl. “For starters, Telemachus is far more modern-minded than he is. And probably a lot more warm-hearted.”

“If you say so,” Stuart shrugs. “Given I’ve probably only even laid eyes on the guy twice. It won’t surprise you to learn I have the same view as my wife on the number of friends a person can have.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Just wish I could persuade Telemachus of that.”

“I dunno, you did with Ophelia,” Keith says. “Hard to imagine an Angel party without seeing her there.”

“Hard to imagine my life without seeing her every day,” I chuckle. “But I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Our wives know all about that,” Stuart says in an almost solemn voice. “As do the two of us, to some extent.”

“You might,” Keith retorts, chuckling as his friend rolls his eyes. “But seriously, yeah, Charlotte was in pieces for days after Jamie moved out. But that’s just part of getting older, I guess.”

“Did you think you’d still be living together after you graduate?” Stuart asks.

“I- I dunno,” I say. “I mean, I guess we would, if we both found jobs in London, I- I dunno, really. And I mean, we still ARE living together. I’m just the ‘third wheel’, heh.”

“Jamie lived with me and Charlotte for ages,” Keith shrugs. “She still spent about as much time with her as I did, heh. Admittedly she didn’t at the start of the relationship, but still, I reckon you’re worrying about nothing.”

“Thanks, I think,” I snort.

“And you’ve still got LOADS of other friends,” Stuart reminds me, gently drumming his fingers over his ‘fellowship’ tattoo.

“And here comes another proud owner of that tattoo,” Keith says with a smug grin.

“What- is Jamie back already?” I ask, turning round in my seat. However, it’s not Jamie who’s just walked through the door, but another friend of mine, one I haven’t seen in a long time. “…Ian?”

“He was in London over Christmas,” Stuart shrugs as the teenaged Welsh transman approaches our table, accompanied by an older woman, presumably his grandmother. “Thought I’d take the opportunity to catch up, see how he’s doing…”

“Oh, okay, cool,” I shrug.

"Hi Ian!" Stuart says, giving the younger man a firm-looking and stereotypically masculine handshake.

We spend the next few minutes talking to Ian about his Christmas- which hadn't been a pleasant one by any stretch of the imagination- talking to his grandmother about her take on things. After meeting up with Jamie (and, even better, her and Stuart's daughter Olivia) we say our farewells to Ian- but not before I have the chance to invite him to my birthday party in February (and Jamie has the chance to record a video message for his Angels-obsessed girlfriend)!

“Eh, we should probably get going now,” Stuart sighs as Ian and his grandmother depart. “Need to get you to the losers’ end before we take our seats."

"Just ignore him, Jacinta," Jamie says with a smug grin as her husband rolls his eyes.

“WAY ahead of you on that one,” I snort. “Hope Ian’ll be alright, stuck all the way over in Cardiff."

"Aww, only met him a few times and already you're looking out for your 'little brother', hehe!" Jamie teases.

“And he's hardly ‘stuck’,” Stuart shrugs. From what I understand, he’s got a good bunch of friends over there. And he’ll always have his ‘extended family’ in London too.”

“Just like I do,” I say with a chuckle.

“Exactly,” Keith says with a grin. “Hope you both remember that.”

“It’s actually Ian’s birthday in a few days,” Stuart states. “His eighteenth.”

“Wait,” I say as something clicks in my brain. “Eighteen in a few days?”

“Yep,” Stuart replies.

“So… Was he actually born then on the 1st of January 2000?” I ask.

“Almost,” Stuart replies. “His parents were deliberately aiming for that. Them and every other parent in the world, heh.”

“Is he having a party?” I ask.

“Dunno, maybe,” Stuart shrugs. “His birthday’s actually this Saturday, perfect opportunity for a party at Charlotte’s, but it’d be a bit much asking him to come to London again when I know he’s not all that comfortable here.”

“Maybe organise a party in Cardiff for him?” I shrug. “Like, an Angel party ‘on tour’?”

“Had the same idea,” Stuart says. “Getting a venue this short notice will be though, though. Getting permission to go from my wife will be even tougher, heh!” I bite my lip to try not to giggle as Stuart shoots a smug look at the blonde woman, causing a look of indignation to immediately spread across her face.

"Hey!" Jamie chastises. "I think it's an AWESOME idea. We can let daddy go and play with Uncle Ian for one night, can't we, Olivia?" I sigh happily as the tiny baby girl giggles uncontrollably at her mother's teasing.

"Thanks babe," Stuart says, giving his wife a gentle kiss.

"I'll text Nikki while you three are busy staring at footballers' legs," Jamie teases.

"Hey!" Stuart and Keith immediately reply as Jamie and I giggle.

"I'm not saying 'hey'," I state with a smug grin. "As that's exactly why I'm going, hehe!"

"Fair enough," Stuart shrugs, before turning to his friend. "Reckon you can get your missus to let you come too? Maybe get a proper gig for the Celestials?"

“Well, here’s the chance to ask,” Keith says as we exit the coffee shop and immediately run into his wife.

“Hey babe,” Charlotte says, giving her husband a gentle hug with one arm while her other hand is wrapped around the hand of her two year old son. “Hi Jacinta! Don’t tell me these two have persuaded you to go the match with them?”

“It was my dad who persuaded me, actually,” I chuckle, before giving a gentle hug to the famous model.

“The fact she’s in a different team’s kit should kinda have been a clue there,” Keith says.

“BOY,” Jamie, Charlotte and I retort.

“And besides,” I sigh, “I Kinda needed to give Telemachus and Ophelia some privacy.”

“Ah, of course,” Jamie chuckles, glancing over at her BFF. “I know what THAT feels like.”

“Told you,” Stuart says smugly.

“I beg your pardon?” Jamie says to her husband with mock offence. “Stuart, dear, have you been suggesting that Jacinta should ask me for advice on how to cope with living with a couple who spend every other second in each other’s pants?”

“…Maybe?” Stuart replies nervously.

“…Good boy,” Jamie says with a grin, making her husband breathe a sigh of relief. “Seriously, Jacinta, any time you want to talk, just hit me up on Facebook, I’ll always listen.”

“Thanks,” I chuckle.

“And that includes if you get bored during the game!” Jamie giggles.

“GIRL,” Stuart and Keith reply as we walk the short distance toward the vast Stamford Bridge stadium.

A few hours later, dad and I head back out to his car, both of us tired and dad a little disappointed after watching his beloved team lose 2-0.

“Meh, I guess that was inevitable,” dad shrugs. “Never mind. Plenty of other matches in the season!”

“Yep!” I reply. “…And if you get any more tickets for any of the London games, well… I wouldn’t say no to coming along.”

“As long as you don’t spend all the time on your phone again!” Dad chuckles. “But seriously, yeah, it was nice to be able to go with you. Before you end up spending all your time wrapped around a significant other as well, heh.”

“Yeah, still awkward and embarrassing,” I say as I again check my phone for any new messages. During half time, Stuart sent me a message confirming that Jamie had given her permission for Stuart to hold a birthday party for Ian in Cardiff- and an invitation was immediately extended to me.

“Hello, phone,” dad sighs as we pull out of the car park and head back through the crowded streets of West London.

“I’m just talking to a friend online,” I retort.

“Ophelia?” Dad asks, making me pause.

“…No,” I reply quietly. “It- it’s Stuart, the guy we ran into in the coffee shop.”

“Oh, okay,” dad shrugs. “The married one, right?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “And no, we’re not flirting, he’s invited me to a party on Saturday, that’s all.”

“…You go to parties virtually every Saturday,” dad retorts. “What’s different about this one?”

“It’s in Wales, for starters,” I reply. “Ran into another one of the people with the tattoo on our way out of the coffee shop, he lives in Cardiff, he’s eighteen on Saturday, so… Yeah.”

“Wow,” dad says. “Didn’t realise your ‘extended family’ crossed the border into Wales.”

“Remember me telling you about the girls we met on October?” I retort. “It crosses an OCEAN.”

“Even better,” dad says with a smirk. “You know, I was kinda worried that I was going to take you back to your flat only for you to spend the rest of the Christmas break miserable and all ‘third wheel’ ish, but if you’ve got this many friends… You’ll be alright. Unless you’d rather come back to Brighton for the rest of the holiday?”

“London’s my home,” I reply. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d kinda like to go back to Brighton, but-“

“London it is,” dad says with a smirk as we head back to my flat.

Naturally, when I explained the Cardiff party to Ophelia and Telemachus, they were interested (and supportive of me going) but ultimately decided not to go themselves. During the days leading up to the party in Wales, I found myself spending less and less time at the flat and more and more time with my other friends, going over coursework with Katie, comparing notes about my life and my transition with Jamie and Nikki and helping the latter plan Ian’s party.

Eventually, Saturday rolls around, and I (and several others) roll down to Cardiff to help Ian celebrate his birthday, which includes a lot of dancing and a lot of drinking… And a lot of missing my BFF. Sure, I have plenty of other friends, all of whom genuinely love me as much as I love them, but life isn’t the same without Ophelia in it. It’s not bad, by any means- I have a lot of fun at the party and make several new friends, but I know I’d have had a lot more fun if Ophelia was with me. However, there’s no sense moping about matters when I could be having fun instead- as has been repeatedly pointed out to me, it’s not like Ophelia’s going to cut me out of her life completely, after all. However, as we’re heading home on the Sunday morning, I can’t help but think about my BFF, and this doesn’t go unnoticed by the other occupants of our car.

“Hungover, tired or miserable?” The tall, elegant (and very famous) Hannah Dexter asks as she stares at me with her piercing blue eyes.

“…In descending order,” I reply with a chuckle.

“Jacinta’s missing the love of her life,” Nikki teases, giggling as I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“What, hooked up with one of the boys last night?” Hannah asks.

“No,” I reply. “…Though admittedly a couple of them were kinda cute. In a nerdy way.”

“Nikki’s talking about Ophelia,” Sarah says from the driving seat of the car.

“Aww,” Hannah coos. “Missing your BFF ‘cause they’ve got themselves someone to snuggle up to… I can sympathise with that, heh. Me and Viks have been BFFs since we were both eleven, it was kinda hard when she hooked up with Jonathan, now it’s like she’s mum first, wife second, Angel third and ‘Hannah’s BFF’ fourth. That’s kinda tough when you haven’t got yourself a man to cuddle up to, heh.” I can’t help but let out a smile- yet another person who’s been through what I’m going through right now.

“Hence why she’s slumming it with us,” Nikki teases, giggling again as it’s Hannah’s turn to roll her eyes. “And what’s happening with Mr. Kennedy?”

“Never you mind!” Hannah immediately replies. “And it’s not ‘slumming it’ if you’re with your friends, even if you’re not quite ‘BFF level’.”

“We’ll try not to be TOO insulted,” Sarah laughs as we pull up outside a small suburban house.

“Why are we stopping here?” I ask.

“Think it’s Ian’s girlfriend's house,” Sarah replies. “Stuart’s hoping that Ian can drag her along to the New Year’s Eve party tonight.” I giggle as I remember yesterday's birthday boy showing up at our hotel during breakfast and taking about three minutes to be persuaded to come back to London with us for tonight's big party.

“Assuming we’re all recovered by then!” Hannah giggles. “Do- do you reckon Ophelia will come to tonight’s party?”

“I hope so,” I sigh, before forcing a smile on my face. “But if she doesn’t, it’s her loss, hehe!”

“That’s the spirit!” Hannah cheers as Ian jumps out of the car (well, van) in front of us and knocks on his girlfriend's front door.

However, as Ian's girlfriend is only sixteen, her parents refuse to let her accompany us to London (though we get a good laugh out of scaring her younger sister when Hannah jumps out for a selfie with her). Stuart won’t be deterred, however, and insists on someone accompanying Ian from Cardiff, meaning that for the long ride back to London, I’m squashed onto the middle of the back seat of Sarah’s car, with Hannah on my left-hand side, and on my right-hand side is a tall, skinny 18 year old boy who seems to be a little TOO excited to be in this car.

“So, Lee,” Nikki asks. “What are you studying at college?”

“Electronics,” Lee replies with a nervous chuckle. “I spend all day learning how to turn things on.” Despite my best efforts, I find myself letting out a snort of laughter at the young man’s off-colour joke.

“I’d recommend studying a little harder,” I say, earning a louder laugh from the other girls- and, surprisingly, a smirk from the young Welshman.

“I’m also really good with my hands,” Lee says, chuckling nervously again as his second joke falls flat. “Umm… Are you- are you all professional models, then?” Smooth, I think to myself.

“One professional, one semi-professional, two who do it more as a hobby than anything,” Nikki replies. “No offence, Hannah.”

“Quiet, you!” Hannah replies, giving Nikki’s chair a playful kick.

“Me and Jacinta are in our final year of uni,” Sarah explains. “I’m studying fashion design, Jacinta’s doing fashion photography.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” Lee says. “In London?”

“Yep,” Sarah replies. “Though Jacinta’s originally from Brighton and I’m originally from Bristol.”

“And to answer your next inevitable question,” I say with a smug grin, “No, they can’t introduce you to any models.”

“Shall I just shut up for the rest of the trip, then?” Lee asks with obviously over-the-top offence that elicits another snort of laughter from me. He might be a bit of an idiot with his jokes, but at least he can take a joke when it's at his expense. Which is actually kind of an attractive quality in a guy...

“Nah, you’re okay,” Hannah says with a giggle. “You’ve definitely got the right attitude for modelling, Lee. Ever thought about it?”

“ModellING, not modelS,” I clarify to yet more laughter.

“…Steal my joke, then?” Lee pouts, forcing an involuntary giggle from me. “Nah, to be honest the only ‘models’ I really know anything about are ones with electric motors inside.”

“Ah, you’re the one who made the robot, aren’t you?” I ask, smirking as Lee immediately perks up at the mention of his creation.

“I am,” Lee says proudly. “Designed most of the internal circuitry, my dad made most of the armour and the weaponry.”

“Sounds cool,” Nikki says with genuine interest.

“Always wished I could, you know, truly ‘make’ something,” Hannah says. “Something I could create, point to with pride and say ‘yep, that’s mine’.”

“I could always teach you how to use a sewing machine,” Sarah shrugged. “Making your own clothes as well as modelling them? You know you’d make millions. Sorry, MORE millions, heh!”

“…I’ll think about it,” Hannah giggles.

“And I could always make a dress for your robot, if you really wanted,” Sarah teases our guest.

“…Got a hard time thinking ANY dress would be pretty enough for Chwilen,” Lee says, earning genuine laughter from me and the other three women.

“Spoken like a good boyfriend,” I say, teasing the young man by leaning my body against his as we head back east toward England’s capital. And despite the fact that he seemingly spends all day every day playing videogames of tinkering with electronics, he definitely doesn't have a bad body...

Later that night, after having changed into a slinky, form-fitting dress and a pair of killer heels, I head into the familiar surroundings of Charlotte’s main room, ready to party away the remaining few hours of 2017. It's definitely been a year in which a lot of things have changed. I started the year in a relationship, but I'm ending it single. I started it with a pseudo-sister, now I have a pseudo-brother-in-law as well- and less of a pseudo-sister than I had previously. Some changes have been for the better, of course- I have more friends now than I did on January 1st, and I've had new experiences I hadn't had before, such as being a bridesmaid for two of my best friends.

Maybe part of my melancholy is over the things that HAVEN'T changed. I've now been on HRT for forty months, and the last twelve months haven't seen nearly as much change as the first twenty-eight (though the biggest change of all is promised next year). And, of course, I'm no closer to my 'Prince Charming' than I was 364 days ago. Meanwhile, three of our group of six have got married and Lauren's almost certainly going to get engaged to her boyfriend after they both graduate and Katie can seemingly have just about any guy she wants, leaving me stuck in 'last place'.

However, this isn't the time and definitely isn't the place for such low thoughts. I have a lot to celebrate- the numerous friends I do have, even ones I don't interact with as much as I should such as Stuart and Keith, the fact that I have possibly the best dad in the world, and the fact that I'm able to stand here, in this place, wearing a sexy dress, a ton of make-up and a ridiculously high pair of heels, and not just be accepted, but be actually loved for my choice of attire. By the best friends a girl could have.

"Ah- here comes trouble," Sarah teases as Ian and Lee enter the party, the former heading to the bar while the latter makes a beeline straight for where I and four of my five best friends are sat.

"Ah, is this the famous 'Lee'?" Katie asks.

"More like 'infamous'," Nikki replies. "You have never heard so many bad jokes in one car ride."

"A lot of funny ones too, though," I say.

"Meh, I guess," Sarah shrugs.

"Evening, ladies," Lee says with a confident grin. "Should my ears be burning?"

"I could set them on fire if you'd like?" I reply, making the tall boy smirk.

"I'm hot enough as it is," Lee says to general eye rolls from us girls. "Hi, I'm Lee Charlton, you may know me from such nicknames as 'Welsh robot guy' and 'his jokes are crap'."

"Katie Henderson, nice to meet you," Katie says, exchanging a handshake with the tall young man.

"Lauren Burnett, happily taken," Lauren says as she greets the young man with a handshake.

"Lee Charlton, unsurprisingly single," Lee says, sitting down on one of the pouffes next to our sofa. "And very grateful to be here, believe me."

"Any more 'grateful' and you may need to change into looser trousers," I say, cringing as four disgusted pairs of eyes turn my way.

"Jacinta!" Sarah chastises. "...Knew you shouldn't have sat next to him in the car, he must've rubbed off on you."

"Sarah!" Nikki chastises her wife, who responds with a playful giggle.

"Ah, I have obviously corrupted you with my mere presence," Lee says with a smug grin. "I can go and pester someone else if you'd prefer?"

"No, stay," I say, giggling as I take a swig of my drink. "God knows I know what it's like to be an outsider in a group. Trust me, you're doing fine."

"Hey, Lee," Ian says as he approaches our group. "You doing okay?"

"Doing fine, apparently," Lee says, leaning back casually only to catch himself as he remembers that the pouffe he's sat on has no back.

"Ah, I thought I saw you, Mr. Freeman!" The familiar voice of Stephanie Abbott says, approaching our group and dragging Ian to the dancefloor before the blond boy has a chance to argue.

"...Screw it, come on," I say, standing up unsteadily on my heels and dragging Lee after his friend onto the dancefloor.

The following morning, I wake up with a pounding headache, and even more surprisingly, a familiar tingling, almost sore sensation in my backside. A quick glance at my bedroom floor reveals a set of men's clothes- the same set that Lee wore last night...

"...Ugh, not exactly a glass slipper," I sigh as I stumble out of bed, pull on a long nightdress and head to my bedroom door. When I open the door, however, I find an unexpected face on the other side.

"Good morning, Jacinta," my BFF says with a disapproving look.

"Umm, happy New Year?" I reply. "Sorry, did we wake you last night?"

"No," Ophelia replies, "as we were not here when you likely returned home. We were at the party."

"Which 'party'?" I ask.

"...The same party you were at," Ophelia replied condescendingly. "Charlotte's party. The party we have gone to for the last two New Years."

"I didn't see you there," I shrug.

"We arrived later," Ophelia says. "I was able to persuade Telemachus to go shortly after 11:15pm. Naturally, it took some time before a taxi became available to take us to the party, and when we arrived, we were told that you had already left."

"Yeah," I say as hazy memories of last night slowly return.

"With a boy," Ophelia continues.

"Yep," I say.

"Who is currently talking with my husband in our kitchen," Ophelia says.

"Lee and Telemachus?" I say with a snort of laughter. "This I MUST see!"

"You are welcome to see it for the both of us," Ophelia says. "Your gentleman friend is wearing only a pair of underpants."

"Okay then," I reply.

"A pair of YOUR underpants," Ophelia says, causing me to lose all composure and break down in a fit of giggles.

"...I've got plenty more, I can afford to have one pair burned!" I say between shrieks of laughter.

"Jacinta," Ophelia says with a serious look on her face. "I- I hope that this, this sleeping with a random boy is not a reaction to myself and Telemachus?"

"No, of course not," I say. "Lee's a friend of Ian- he's the guy who came from Wales to that photoshoot I did in the spring? The one for that newspaper?"

"...Yes, I know Ian," Ophelia says. "He used to go out with the Australian girl, did he not?"

"That's him," I say. "He came to London with his friend, we got chatting, we hit it off, and, well, we had it off. It's got nothing to do with you and Telemachus."

"Okay," Ophelia says with a satisfied nod.

"...Alright, maybe it has a little bit to do with you guys," I sigh. "Can you blame me for wanting some companionship? It's like you're slipping further and further out of my life."

"Jacinta..." Ophelia sighs. "If I gave you the impression then I truly apologise. Yes, I want to spend as much time as I can with my husband. I love him. But I also love you. The two things do not need to be mutually exclusive."

"It seems like they have been recently," I mumble.

"Telemachus has a hard time fitting in with groups," Ophelia says. "I cannot simply leave him by himself, nor can I force him into situations he finds uncomfortable, can I? I have a memory of a girl helping me out of my shell in a similar way several years ago."

"Well- okay, I guess," I shrug.

"I told you before Christmas that we are sisters," Ophelia says. "Seeing Candice again just proved that for me. You should not feel like a third wheel, especially not here, in your home. If it were not for you, I would not be married to Telemachus. I would not have as many amazing friends as I do. And I would not be called 'Ophelia'."

"Yeah," I whisper. "Well without you, my name would be 'Jason' and I'd probably be working in some crappy shop in Brighton somewhere."

"Telemachus may be my husband," Ophelia says, "but you are closer to being my soul mate than he. I swear that I shall make more time for you in the future, Jacinta. If it means that much to you. As it means that much to me as well."

"Thanks," I whisper. "And yes, yes it does mean a lot to me too."

"As much as finding 'Prince Charming'?" Ophelia asks.

"...Why do the two things have to be mutually exclusive?" I ask. "And who's to say I haven't found him in Lee?"

"Even though he is stood in our kitchen talking about robots while wearing a pair of your panties?" Ophelia replies.

"...Good point," I say, sharing a giggle with my BFF as we head through to the kitchen, and probably the most surreal sight of my entire life. However, as odd as it may sound, the sight of Lee in my underpants actually makes me more glad to be involved with him. There aren't many men who would be willing to poke fun at himself like this. In many ways, Lee is as unique as Telemachus- and it's a uniqueness I intend to keep hold of.

And there is literally no one as unique as Ophelia, nor will there ever be. I shouldn't be worried about her not being a part of my life, as no matter who we might be with, or where life takes us, we will always be sisters. Just a few hours in, 2018 has given me a renewed love of my sister, a potential 'Prince Charming', and later in the year, it will give me the final step in the journey I began so long ago. No more dwelling on the past. The future's bright. It's time I started looking toward it.