They met when they found themselves next door neighbors in a small apartment complex. He moved in at the same she was leaving for work one morning, and were introduced in the way strangers are. She had lived there for some time, already calling it home.

Their balconies were only separated by a few metal bars. They'd hang their clothes out on a line roughly at the same time. Their front doors were side by side and often the two would leave or arrive at the same time. He'd hear her music through the thin wall, as she listened while sewing, a skill she had been disciplined in by her grandmother. She previously was sick of it, wanting to stay far away from anything remotely alike. But she soon came to overcome her dislike of the art, when she started making things new and that really expressed her and her only. She'd hear his frustrations or the crash of a pan as he learned to cook. He was new to living in his own and was getting use to the small but significant aspects that one tends to not notice when living with their parents.

Over the coming few months the two got to know each from gestures in the hall, a formal conversion on the balcony that only lasted a minute or two, or from all the muffled sounds that resonated between their walls. But they really came to know each other when one night, as he stared up at the stars like he often did, she slung over the metal bars and sat beside him. He was too nervous to say otherwise, but they laughed quietly, impressed each other with the stories they'd tell about themselves, then shared a vulnerable side to them that they could never share with another. And before the night was over they had embraced and she hopped again over the bars with a kiss on her lips.

She was particular. She did all sorts of things, had all sorts of skills, but they were all very specific and drew out a person that was unique and didn't fit fully into one shade or another. She liked to draw, but only flowers. She'd sometimes pace up and down her room muffly saying the words that ran through her mind, completely unaware of reality. She couldn't walk through the bread isle without picking up at least one loaf and giving it a wiff. She'd often wave her arms at automatic sliding doors as if she had some sort of unseen power, but usually she'd then blush red in embarrassment. She'd sew her own clothes, but they were usually very vibrant with wild designs and shapes, sometimes quite abstract. The shape of her clothes weren't anything exotic though, simple t-shirts, jeans, and the so. She had black hair that curved around her right side before letting down while her left side fell perfectly straight. Her voice cracked up a lot but at this point she learned to embrace it. The right side of her mouth was slightly higher than her left and sometimes it looked as though she was smirking judgingly. She constantly was out doing something, wanting to see a movie, watch a play, walk down a street she had never been, or look at the kittens at the local pet store.

He had a hard time comparing himself to her, as he often did. He was from a farm, from parents who mostly looked stone cold and often talked like a wall. But he had friends and an older brother. A dog or two. He liked to fish, just about the only countryside activity he had come to enjoy. He did read every now and then, not a lot but when he started it was difficult to stop. He didn't pay much attention to assuming things about people, when they told him how they felt he usually took it at face value. He did like going for walks, the air was something he missed from the countryside, though the tall buildings were certainly a change for him. Most of the time, he was inside, feeling safe and a sense of comfort rather than spending time in a shopping mall or some plaza. He was on the shorter side for men but he tended to be straight and tough like a log, probably all the work he had to do on the farm. His eyes were a bit down, having this constant sense of melancholy. His hair wasn't anything special, only reaching just to his eyes but they curled at the edges and he brushed them over his forehead. He was plain in his clothing; jeans, a t-shirt, a hat, a long sleeve, plaid, cotton sweater. In his mind he was very organized, knew what he was doing and what he wanted. He tended to notice everything going on around him, a trait which was more of a hindrance in the busy city.

One night she hopped over the bars, knocked at his balcony door and asked if he'd come out into town with her. Again, her moving spirit. "Of course," He said and the two walked out of the complex together and down the windy roads until they hit the bustling of town.

It was night out but the city center was vibrant with people, lights, gossip, heart breaks and consumer enjoyment. She carried him around looking at all the things she gravitated towards. He had a hard time not looking at her. Maybe it was the lights in the town, or the way she stepped from place to place, but she seemed teeming with magic.

The two got along perfectly, she was a talker and he was a listener. But in those couple of hours, he had probably said more things than he ever had in his life. When around her, that bright and moving personality she had, would bounce onto him. She learned about how his father died when he was twelve. It was hard, but at the same time it was rare to remember a moment when the two were close the way a father and son should be. She also learned how he broke his leg trying to jump into a lake with a buddy of his. She envied his connection and deep time spent with nature. But she too then began to see something similar to what he saw in her. Some magic that brought them together and showed everything will be alright with one another.

The two were joyous and annoyingly loud when they walked back into his apartment. They couldn't stop smiling or looking each other straight in the eyes. She blushed red with every word and his heart pumped whenever she turned away to hide the embarrassment. But the strength of the body came to and they found themselves falling asleep, their eyes slowly closing on the last thing they saw that night: Each other. She woke up the next morning beside him and in a soft quiet tone, gave a moan and a tear of joy.

After two and a half years, they married the way young people so deeply in love did. But it was true love, not some mirage that would unfold in any given moment. They completed each other and lifted each other. When he needed the words to say, or when he couldn't tell people the way he felt, she stepped in just knowing what was going on in his mind and heart. If he couldn't quite figure something for himself, becoming independent in a way his parents never taught him, she guided his hand so that he'd be able to do it by himself in the future.

When she needed a moment, a break from the things that put themselves on her shoulder, he was the arms she could hold or the soft, listening voice she could cry to. When she'd do her peculiar things in public, the embarrassment of others watching easily subsided when he smiled back and encouraged her, he seeing the necessity in those weird and childish actions.

One day, just after breakfast, he looked at her for a moment, smiling, but also realizing he still didn't know much about her past. Her childhood, her parents, where she lived or who she was friends with. He took to ask, "Can I meet your parents?" Her parents were at the wedding, but they didn't make a sound and once the tradition was finished they left without a congratulations.

She looked at him openly with a face of uncomfort. "It's probably best we didn't." He knew not to push further, and inside he let the curiosity go, feeling it was best -for her own sake- that he did so.

Another year had passed when they decided they wanted a child together. But she was unable to become pregnant, "Some genetic medical condition," She said. The two opted for adoption and after some time looking found a boy only three months old, who seemed to always be smiling. He would joke that the baby is her long lost child, with the way he moved, tried to talk, smiled, and giggled. This was their son, and would be so forever. They quickly caught on to the methods of parenting, the awkwardness and the small things. It was tough, with many times the two feeling they couldn't go on. But together they made it work, as everything before them. They were the only thing that their worlds revolved around, and now this child too belonged.

One morning, she had taken their son for a checkup, while he sat at home by himself. He was off work and was honestly glad, he needed a moment. She had moved a bunch of her stuff into his apartment and gave hers back to the apartment complex. Sometimes he'd sit outside, watch the stars, and stare at those metal bars that separated the two apartments. By now, most of her boxes had been unpacked and her belongings strown about as though they belonged there and been present for years. After sometime lounging he noticed a few remaining boxes and took to unpacking them for her. There were a couple of a pillows, "Too many," he said looking at all the pillows already on their bed. An empty picture frame, some sewing fabric, a couple of hangers, a hat or two, then eventually a folder. It was tan with a splotch on the front as though something had been spilt on it. He smiled thinking she probably knocked a cup over. Opening the folder were medical papers inside, appointments and checkups all the way back from when she was ten. She took care to preserve these things. Some minor incidents such as a cold, even a broken finger. Then there was the therapy. One sheet that detailed an extensive program of therapy for her, suffering from depression and occasional suicide thoughts.

He was in a bit of shock, unsure what to think or feel. He wasn't bitter or angry, in fact he came to show only more compassion towards her. He just wished she had told him. But that all changed when he read the last piece of paper in the folder. A sheet printed from the hospital, it's logo in the bottom right corner. It read, "Consent Form: Biological Gender Transition Surgery." At the bottom was the name of the recipient, a male name, which would then be officially changed to a female name. His wife.

In some way he couldn't tell why he was angry, but it bubbled. He felt lied to. A bit cheated. Unsure who the person he had married was. Was this something he wanted? The emotions piled on, but it eventually cooled and he had decided he'd confront her when she returned home. When she did, he helped their son into it's crib and shut the door behind him. He approached her and softly asked about it, showing her the paper.

Her eyes widened and she turned to a behavior of fawning, trying to say whatever he wanted to hear. But she was honest too, confessing how she didn't like who she was previously, she never did. But now she was where she always wanted to be and that she was still herself, she that he married. He was quiet, more than he usually was around her.

She felt the world that was hers come loose, with the prospect that soon everything she loved and wanted could be gone and out of reach. This was something she has sat on for a long time, and towards her husband she felt she had let him down.

"We didn't have a child because of a condition." He bluntly confronted her. She slowly nodded as a tear sweeped down her cheek.

He asked what else she was hiding, and how she couldn't have told him this before they got married. She said she was sorry, that she wanted to tell him but was trying to find the right time and way. She was still the same person he had married, still the same smile and the same interests, the same walk. She was afraid he wouldn't love her.

"Of course I love you!" He said, but after some back and forth, some questioning and answering, he walked out of the apartment building and into his car. He had fallen victim to those emotions that are less about the subject and more about the tone of things. The way she said those words, or the way she looked when she said them. He especially was prone to those feelings.

For the next two days, the emotions only grew worse inside. In some ways it wasn't her transition that he hated, but that she had lied to him. But he too questioned if this is what he wanted, if this was who he was. To make things worse, he wouldn't talk to her. He only kept to his own thoughts and emotions, only his own perspective and it pushed him further and further into discontent, soon unable to understand her or her motives in anyway.

The following months would be in court, as he eventually decided on divorce. A decision that was impulsive, for he too felt that the world he loved was going away. When she was handed the papers, she almost fainted, cried herself to sleep that night and didn't get up until sometime in the afternoon. She didn't see him, she couldn't talk to him. In a flash he was gone. He was always bad at telling people his emotions, yet towards her he was more vulnerable than a baby, but now...

Joint custody was agreed upon by both parties, and the divorce continued through to the end. She now lived in a completely different part of the city, he still in that same apartment.

Whenever he brought their son to her place, or her to his, she could never get him to talk. He only pushed on, did what was needed and nothing more. He sometimes didn't even look at her. She felt isolated, alone. She felt that her whole existence was the problem, that who she was destroyed such a harmonious and loving life. That she still hadn't escaped herself before the transition. She couldn't understand what he was feeling, for he took on the same coldness as his parents before. She then began assuming the worst and those thoughts ate her up, as she was believing things that were imaginary in the way fearful people do. She could no longer take this, any of it. She had simply broke.

So on a day she were to have their son, she simply didn't answer. She wouldn't open the door, she wouldn't answer his phone calls. He decided to leave and return the next day, only to find no response again. For the next two days he received no sign from her, until her mother showed up at his door.

A few previous days earlier, she had hung herself.

The funeral was fairly small. He and his parents were present, alongside hers. A couple friends, but that was about it. To everyone around he seemed completely uncaring and unmoved. Except, every night he sat out and tried to watch the stars, but he just couldn't. His eyes always fixated on those metal bars that separated the two apartment rooms. By now, someone new had moved in and there simply was no sense of her alive there anymore. He griefed harder than anyone could ever know.

It had been five months since her passing. He woke up one day, peered out the window, and walked into his bathroom. He combed his hair, almost brushed his teeth but decided he'd do it after breakfast. He put a clean shirt on, a pair of jeans. Walked out and into his son's room where the child laid in it's crib silent. He smiled, closed the door and entered the kitchen. Pulling a bowl from a cabinet he realized that this was the first day since her death, that he woke up and wasn't thinking about her.

He suddenly found himself in dread. He had let go of her. He had heard the words from her mother's lips, had been at the funeral but it only seemed now to hit that she was gone. This was the moment he knew he was moving on, and it crippled him. He sobbed harder than he ever had before, slammed his hands on the table, rubbed his eyes, tried to stop, tried to hold onto her. In all his pain he rushed out the door and towards her grave.

On a sunny day, he threw himself to his knees and cried for anyone to see. But all he could do was read the name edged on the stone. She didn't respond, she never would. He remembered her face as she tried to talk to him those days, as he turned away silently, her isolated, alone, and pushed afar. He couldn't remember what the last thing she said to him was, he was a cruel monster in those last days. He knew what he did, how he destroyed not only his own life, but his love and his new sons. It had been his fault, but after four years this was the moment, the only one, that he could look back on and know he truly loved her.