The air in Lysa’s chamber was still, the only light a soft glow from the city beyond the balcony doors. They lay facing each other on the wide bed, both in their nightwear—Lysa in a simple silk chemise, Laura in the borrowed pajamas she wore over the ever-present Myrden suit. The fabric of the day, the tour, the baths, and the clothing generator hung between them, a silent, charged thing.

For a few seconds, there was only the sound of their breathing. Lysa’s eyes, dark and serious in the low light, searched Laura’s face.

“Vernon,” Lysa said softly, the name not a question but a confirmation, solid in the quiet room. “That’s your real name.”

Laura’s breath caught. The name was a key turning in a lock deep inside her chest. She felt the familiar, panicked urge to deny it, to cling to the armor of ‘Laura’. But Lysa’s gaze held no judgment, only a patient, aching curiosity. “Yes,” Laura whispered, the word leaving her like a surrender.

Lysa’s expression softened, but the intensity didn’t fade. “What do you look like,” she asked, her voice barely audible, “underneath all this?” Her hand lifted slightly from the bedcovers, a gesture toward Laura’s form, encompassing the wig, the suit, the beautiful lie.

The question wasn’t clinical. It was full of wonder, and a desire that made Laura’s heart hammer against her ribs. Before she could formulate an answer, Lysa moved. She closed the small distance between them and wrapped her arms around Laura, pulling her close, turning so she was hugging Laura from behind, her front pressed to Laura’s back. Laura could feel the warmth of Lysa’s body through their clothes, the gentle swell of her breasts against her shoulder blades. It was a protective, possessive embrace, and it shattered the last of Laura’s defenses.

“Lysa,” Laura breathed, her voice trembling.

“Do you really want to find out?” Laura asked, the words spoken into the room, to the woman holding her.

“Yes,” Lysa said immediately, her lips close to Laura’s ear. “I want to see you.”

Slowly, Laura turned in her arms until they were face to face again. Inches apart. She saw the trust in Lysa’s eyes, the fearless wanting. It gave her a courage she didn’t know she possessed. She leaned in and kissed her.

It was not a gentle, questioning kiss. It was an answer, a release, a floodgate …