Joy Family

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 16: “The School Where She Never Was”

It began with shopping.

Not online. Not through a helper.

They were going out. As a family.

Kathir knew what it meant.

He would not be dressing as “Kathir” for the trip.

The Shopping Day

It was Friday afternoon when Maria entered his room with a soft knock and a long smile. She held a folded set of clothes. Lavender and peach.

“Jeru kutty, today we need to go buy your school items. Uniform stitching, bag, shoes, ribbon, petticoat, everything. Wear this for now. It’s simple.”

Kathir blinked.

“But can’t we just… send someone?” he asked, almost pleading.

Stephen answered from the corridor, his voice warm. “No kutty. You’re our daughter. It’s time the world sees that. We’re proud.”

His fingers trembled when he took the clothes.

In his room, with the door locked, he unfolded the outfit.

It was a soft floral salwar set, age-appropriate for a teenage girl - baby pink leggings, a pastel kurta with delicate embroidered butterflies, and a matching dupatta. Below it lay a set of plain white cotton bra and panty, with a training camisole. His name - no, her name - was written in small font on the label: Jerusha Joy.

He sat for a full minute.

Then stripped. Slowly.

He pulled on the panty first. The prosthetic settled into it without resistance. Then the camisole, which softly lifted the already sculpted chest into shape.

His reflection - long hair now trimmed in soft girl-cut layers, clear face from weeks of parlour sessions - didn’t even flinch anymore.

He wore the kurta. It felt cool. Airy. But unmistakably feminine.

The leggings clung to his legs, tight at the calves.

Maria entered and adjusted his dupatta. “Just pinned like this. See?”

Then she smiled. “You look like someone I used to know.”

On the Road

The car smelled of vanilla freshener.

Stephen drove. Maria sat in the back with Jerusha, holding a small list she had handwritten.

“School belt. School socks. Hair band. White ribbon. Frocks for activity days. Sports skirt…”

Kathir sat still, not speaking, his heart pounding.

They stopped at a school supplies boutique near Cathedral Road. High-end, elite. For wealthy families.

Inside, the staff greeted them warmly.

“And this is Jerusha?” the shopkeeper asked, gesturing toward him.

Kathir’s lips parted but no words came. He nodded gently.

Maria placed a hand on his back proudly. “Yes. Our daughter. Joining eleventh standard.”

He blushed.

They began selecting skirts, underskirts, half-sleeve inner vests, socks, black shoes, hairbands, white cotton ribbons, and white slips. Even tiny packs of hygiene items, lip balm, and a pastel pink school diary.

For PE, they bought her a navy blue divided skirt and a pale violet T-shirt with the school logo.

Stephen had already visited the school and submitted all the necessary documents. Kathir would join Daisy Elite Academy for Girls, a prestigious institution known for high fees and ultra-modern campus facilities - indoor badminton court, media room, robotics lab, prayer hall, yoga space.

Jerusha would be in 11-B, commerce group.

Uniform stitching was done in-store. They took her measurements again - chest, shoulder, waist, hips. The tailor complimented her soft skin and posture.

Kathir nearly collapsed from shame.

But he stayed quiet.

They left the store with six large paper bags and one photograph appointment slip.

The ID Photo

It was evening when they reached the studio.

Inside, a curtained section held uniforms for photo shoot.

Maria handed him the uniform:

A checked maroon-and-cream shirt,

A high-waist maroon skirt,

Skin-colored stockings,

White canvas shoes with a small heel,

School ID tag with Jerusha A. Joy printed.

In the dressing room, he wore it all.

The stockings clung, the shirt fit, the skirt hem kissed his knees. The tight waistband pressed against the skirt. The shirt had darts for his chest.

His reflection looked like a full-blooded 11th standard girl.

Maria helped part his hair into two and tie it into neat ribboned ponytails. She applied a light compact and wiped his lip softly.

The photographer adjusted the background.

“Smile, miss,” he said casually.

Kathir blinked once.

Then smiled.

Click.

The card printed within minutes. His name, photo, blood group.

Jerusha Anne Joy. XI-B. Daisy Elite Academy.

The Night Before School

That night, he couldn’t sleep.

He wore his regular white nighty, soft with age, loose over the camisole. The anklets were off. He held the ID card and stared at it.

He whispered to himself, voice trembling:

“This is not me.”

But the reflection beside the bed said otherwise.

He tucked himself under the sheet and turned his phone off.

His heart beat loud enough to make the silence awkward.

The Morning

Maria woke him softly.

“Jeru kutty. First day.”

He bathed. The water felt cold. Not physically - it was the cold of not knowing who you are anymore.

He wore the new cotton panty, a tight camisole that flattened slightly, then the white vest for school. The padded uniform bra sat awkwardly against the prosthetics but still felt… necessary.

Over that came the petticoat, the stockings, then the pleated skirt and shirt.

Maria pinned the school badge. Tied his hair with fresh white ribbons. Applied a soft cherry lip balm and gave him a dab of talcum at the neck.

Stephen was already ready.

He brought down the school bag - branded, stylish, with the school’s logo.

They made him sit for a photo at home. Together.

Then, with soft kisses on both cheeks, they took her - her - to school.

The Drop-Off

The Volvo stopped near the large black gates of Daisy Academy.

Girls were walking in. The security guard nodded at the car.

Stephen got out, opened the door for her.

Jerusha stepped out.

Skirt. Ribbons. Bag. ID tag.

Maria smoothed her shirt. “Be polite. Be cheerful. Be our Jerusha.”

Kathir nodded blankly.

She kissed his forehead. “You’ll make friends soon.”

Stephen hugged her from the side. “Go, kanna. Go live her life.”

And just like that-

She walked in.

He walked in.

The gates of Daisy Elite closed behind her.

And Kathir, somewhere deep inside, whispered a soft cry beneath the ribbons.

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 17: “The Classroom Where She Waited”

The iron gates of Daisy Elite Academy for Girls clicked shut behind her.

Jerusha stood frozen. Her brown leather school bag hugged tightly in the back of her body like a shield. Her pleated maroon skirt brushed against her knees, too light for her shame, too short for her fear. The checkered shirt tucked neatly into it was pulled too tight around the bust, which moved like real flesh with every anxious breath.

Inside that well-maintained campus of silence and sun, Kathir was gone.

Only Jerusha remained.

The First Bell

She walked forward slowly, careful not to let the stockings slip, the petticoat bunch, or the ID tag swing too much. Each footstep sounded soft, muffled, not like her usual hard soles. She could hear the anklets underneath the socks. They still jingled faintly - not enough for the world, just enough for her shame.

Girls walked past her, giggling in pairs or discussing last night's homework. She kept her head low.

As instructed, she made her way to the School Office, where a stern receptionist called out in crisp Tamil-English, “Jerusha Anne Joy?”

She raised her hand weakly.

“Eleventh B. Block C, Room 12. Second floor. Join assembly first in the auditorium.”

Jerusha nodded.

And walked on.

Assembly of Shame

The auditorium was filled with rows of girls in the same uniform. She felt like a dandelion trying to hide in a field of roses.

She took a spot at the end of a row near the corner and sat slowly, careful not to let the skirt crumple or the ribbon slip. A few girls glanced at her.

"Are you new?" a voice whispered beside her.

She turned. A round-faced girl with curious eyes smiled. “I’m Aishu. Welcome to Daisy.”

Kathir blinked. Then remembered.

“Thanks. Jerusha…”

"Pretty name," the girl said. “You look a little scared though.”

She nodded silently.

Assembly began.

They sang. Prayed. Spoke about discipline. The principal talked about girlhood, goals, and God. Every word felt like an arrow aimed at the truth she was hiding under carefully pressed skirts and a schoolgirl’s smile.

Classroom and New Friends

Class 11-B was on the second floor. She climbed up slowly, her skirt swaying. She held her bag to her chest the whole way.

Inside, the classroom smelled of scented paper, fruit-flavored lip balm, and fresh uniforms.

A few more girls introduced themselves.

A tall girl with a hair clip shaped like a butterfly leaned forward and said, “Jerusha Joy? You were in Coimbatore right? I saw your name on the register!”

She nodded quickly.

Everyone seemed to accept her without question. After all, she looked exactly like she belonged - the skin, the hair, the body, the accessories. She even had the soft perfume Maria had applied behind her ears.

The teacher, a kindly woman named Ms. Rajeswari, entered and gave her a quick glance.

"New student? Jerusha Joy? Good. Quiet one, hmm? Sit in second bench, near the window.”

Second bench.

Jerusha.

Second bench.

She felt her identity evaporate like perfume in hot air.

Restroom Humiliations

By recess, the heat had built under her uniform. The camisole was slightly damp. The petticoat clung.

She held it in as long as she could. But by the fourth period, she had no choice.

She excused herself and made her way - for the first time - into the girls’ restroom.

There was a row of mirrors. Light pink tiles. Two girls chatting while applying sunscreen. They turned, smiled politely, and returned to their gossip.

Jerusha slipped into a stall.

Once inside, she froze.

She lowered the panties slowly - the white cotton felt oddly tight - then lifted the pleated skirt, held it in her mouth as she sat awkwardly. The prosthetic organ worked, but the feeling… was alien. Worse, the sound of her urination - soft, rounded, feminine - humiliated her more than any look could.

She wiped. Flushed. Pulled everything up. Adjusted.

Then stepped out and quickly washed her hands.

But the girl at the basin smiled.

“Your ribbon’s twisted.”

She turned and gently retied it.

“There. So pretty now.”

Kathir wanted the ground to swallow him.

Pick-Up by Appa

The day dragged.

Each subject - commerce, economics, French - came and went in chalky words and passing smiles.

At 3:30, the bell rang.

She walked to the gate.

Stephen was already waiting. Outside the Volvo, standing proudly, waving.

"My kutty girl!" he said out loud, eyes glowing. “How was school?”

Girls passed her, watching.

She smiled weakly. “Good…”

He opened the door like she was royalty. She got in. The seat smelled like rose talc.

"Tell me everything," he said, driving.

New Additions at Home

As the car turned into Joy Villa, she noticed changes.

A new security guard was standing near the gate.

“He’s from our agency,” Stephen said. “Nothing will happen to my baby girl.”

Inside, a new maid greeted her.

“This is Thulasi akka. She’ll help Maria around the house. You should never have to stress, kutty.”

Jerusha nodded.

And at the backyard?

Construction markers.

“A pool?” she whispered.

“For you,” Maria said, entering from the kitchen with a tray of snacks. “Jeru always wanted one. Now we can make that dream true.”

Comfort and Conflict

They cuddled her that evening on the sofa.

Maria rested her head on Jerusha’s shoulder. Stephen kept feeding her cream biscuits.

They kept calling her Jeru, Jerukutty, Amma’s angel, Appa’s strength.

Inside, she still heard Kathir screaming.

But outside, she smiled.

Talking to Her Friend

That night, she finally texted her old college friend.

Me: I went to school today. As a girl. Full uniform. Ribbon and all.
Friend: 😨 what??? Are you okay??
Me: Sort of. Idk. Parents cried when I came back. Called me daughter again.
Friend: I’m coming to see you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.
Me: Please. Soon.
Friend: But tell me honestly… are you okay??
Me: I think… I’m happy. And scared.

Homework and Diary

That night, after changing into a loose pink cotton skirt and white printed top, Jerusha sat at her desk and did her commerce homework.

The skirt kept sliding down slightly. She kept adjusting it.

Then, after dinner and prayer, she sat on the floor with her back against the bed.

She opened Jerusha’s old diary.

Page after page of girlish dreams. Song lyrics. Crushes. Mood entries. Tears for exam marks. Joy for birthday surprises.

Kathir read until his eyes blurred.

Then he picked up a pen.

On the last empty page, he wrote:

June 3
Today, I was you. Completely.
I sat in your class. Ate in your uniform.
Used the girls’ restroom. Laughed softly like you.
Even cried like you - quietly.

I don’t know if I’m becoming you, Jerusha.
Or if you’re becoming me.

But for now, you live.
In me.

In Joy.

- Kathir. Jerusha. Whoever I am today.

He placed the diary back in the drawer.

Switched off the lights.

And slept with one ribbon still in his hair.

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 18: "The Days That Wore Her Skin"

Time has a strange way of softening impossibilities.

A week ago, Kathir had stepped into Daisy Elite Academy wearing a stranger’s skirt, tied with a borrowed ribbon, and smiled for a photograph as someone else’s daughter. That photo now hung framed in the hallway of Joy Villa - a girl with soft cheeks, unsure eyes, and a platinum cross glinting near her collarbone. Beneath it, in embossed letters, it read:

“Jerusha Anne Joy - Our Daughter Lives in Joy.”

Monday - Becoming Familiar

The alarm rang at 5:45 AM. He didn't need his mother to knock anymore.

The prosthetics were still part of him. By now, the strange weight of his chest felt normal - like schoolbooks slung in a bag. The urination, once a horrifying ordeal, had become a quiet shame, predictable and practiced.

He stepped into the bathroom with sleepy eyes, looked in the mirror - the face that looked back wore night-pressed curls, moisturized skin, lips softened by tinted balm. Jerusha's.

She picked a sky blue midi with tiny white flowers for breakfast. A matching blue sports bra, pastel panty, and simple hoop earrings completed the outfit. Maria smiled with her hands folded in prayer the moment Jerusha stepped out of her room.

“Appa will drop you in ten minutes, kanna,” she said.

Breakfast was mango toast and cold milk. Stephen clicked two photos of her at the table, his eyes sparkling.

At School - Social Circles Form

By now, she had grown close to Aishu, a bubbly girl who constantly teased her about her silent expressions. The two of them often sat together during recess, discussing music, exams, teachers, and, awkwardly, boys.

“Jerusha,” Aishu whispered that day, “you have the softest hair. Who’s your parlour akka?”

She smiled faintly.

“You’re mysterious,” Aishu added, flicking her ID tag. “But I like that. Let’s be besties?”

Jerusha had never had one. She only nodded.

Tuesday - Physical Education Humiliations

Jerusha had been dreading PE.

The uniform was a navy sports tee and maroon tracks or a skirt depends - slightly clingy. Girls were instructed to wear supportive sports bras, and Maria had prepared hers the night before: a grey racerback with a tiny lavender bow stitched in the front.

She had to change in the girls’ locker room.

The changing itself was slow agony - she turned to the wall, removed her shirt, adjusted the innerwear, pulled on the tee. Several girls changed casually around her, talking about diets, hair products, and menstrual cramps.

She kept quiet. And red.

Out in the field, her prosthetic chest bounced slightly as they jogged. Some boys from the neighboring school across the compound watched.

She heard Aishu whisper: “Look at them staring at you.”

She pretended not to.

Back home, Stephen picked her up in the Volvo, called her his "golden girl" and played her favorite Ilaiyaraaja tune the whole drive.

Wednesday - The House Expands

When she returned, construction work had started behind the villa. Dust and bricks marked the backyard.

“A pool, kutty,” Stephen said, walking beside her, arm proudly around her shoulder. “It’s what Jeru always wanted.”

There was also a new security guard, a polite older man named Rangan, who tipped his hat and said, “Evening, ma’am” as she passed.

Inside, the new maid, Thulasi akka, had prepared fruit salad. She insisted on brushing Jerusha’s skirt down before she sat.

“You’re like a princess,” she beamed.

Maria had bought her a pink hoodie top and denim skirt combo for homewear. She wore it that evening - along with a padded training bra and her usual anklets, now permanently part of her rhythm.

Later that night, she was given her first capsule supplements - one for skin brightness, another for vocal softness.

“This is what Jeru was taking,” Maria said. “It’ll help you too.”

He wanted to resist. He didn’t.

Thursday - Life, Layered in Fabric

She now had a mini closet of her own outfits:

Cotton midi frocks

Tunic tops with leggings

Full chudidars with delicate dupattas

Casual tees with slim-fit jeans

Soft home skirts with tucked camisoles

Each came with respective inners - color-coordinated, well-fitted, and humiliatingly feminine. Maria insisted on layering: camisoles, boyshorts, sometimes slips.

She hated how normal it felt now.

Every evening, Stephen returned with something - a gold-plated bracelet, a new hair clip, even a pack of glossy lip balm.

That night, he insisted she try on a velvet maroon chudidar, and clicked a photo of her beside the indoor plants.

Friday - Her Visitor

Maria sat beside her on the couch.

“Jerukutty… your akka is visiting tomorrow. You remember? From college?”

She nodded, panicked. “You told her…?”

“Only that she’s your akka. She doesn’t know anything else.”

The next day, Saturday, she dressed in a yellow cotton frock with puffed sleeves, hair braided, lips lightly tinted, platinum cross shining on her collar.

When the doorbell rang, Maria yelled from the kitchen: “Jerukutty! Akka vandhuta!”

She walked to the living room slowly, heart racing.

There stood her friend from college. Shocked. Then smiling.

“You… look…” she said, voice trailing.

Jerusha folded her hands and said in akka-tone, “Vanakkam akka.”

The friend laughed. “Oh my God. Is this really you?”

They sat. Talked. Jerusha explained it all in gentle tones, never breaking character.

The friend leaned closer. “Honestly? This is insane… but you look peaceful.”

Maria brought snacks. Stephen joined and clicked a photo of them together.

That evening, the photo joined the wall beside the church picture.

A silver frame around them read simply:

JOY.

That Night - The Quiet Realization

Back in her room, Jerusha wore her usual white nighty and applied balm to her lips. She sat in front of the mirror for a long time.

The girl who looked back was no longer hesitant.

Her skin glowed from supplements. Her voice was softer, but still hers. The chain rested against her chest like it belonged there forever.

She opened Jerusha’s diary again.

This time, she added:

- “Aishu calls me bestie.
A boy stared at me during PE.
My old friend calls me akka.

I’m starting to answer to Jerusha faster than Kathir.

I feel like I’m forgetting how to be him.

I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

She shut the diary.

Lights off.

Night sounds.

The anklets clinked as she turned in bed.

She slept.

Still Jerusha.

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 19: “In the Name of Joy”

Sunday Morning – Church Bells & Lessons

The Sunday after her friend’s visit arrived like a quiet drumbeat - soft sunlight on pale curtains, the gentle chime of anklets as she walked across the room.

Maria called from the kitchen, “Jerukutty, wear the lavender frock today - church kutty look.”

Kathir had no fight left in him. He wore the lavender frock. It was a high-collared, lace-trimmed cotton dress that ended just below the knees. Inside was a matching lavender bra, panty, and thin lace slip that rubbed gently as he walked. On his wrist, a delicate rose-gold bracelet dangled beside the platinum cross.

Hair was tied in a neat half ponytail with a small bow clip. Simple studs in the ears, and the scented talc Maria dusted under his chin made him feel like a birthday girl.

Stephen and Maria were already dressed, faces glowing with joy. They were going not just to church - but to Sunday School.

The hall was full of children and teens, most of them in small cliques. Kathir sat awkwardly on the girls’ side, with a tiny prayer book in one hand and Maria’s hope in the other.

The lesson was about forgiveness. The pastor’s daughter spoke gently to them about God’s love for his children.

That’s when he noticed a boy sitting across from him - probably his age, lean and tall, wearing a tucked shirt and silver watch. Their eyes met. The boy smiled, politely. Kathir looked away, heart racing.

After class, the boy approached and said, “Hey. I’m Reuben. New here?”

Kathir’s voice failed. He nodded and softly said, “Hmm… Jerusha.”

“Nice name,” Reuben smiled. “You from Daisy?”

He nodded again. The conversation ended awkwardly - but it left something behind. The shame of attraction, not to the boy… but of being perceived as a girl to him.

Sunday Evening – House to House

That evening, Maria took her on a walk around the neighborhood.

“Jerukutty, these are all people who knew of us but never saw you after we moved. You don’t have to talk much. Just smile, okay?”

She wore a yellow midi with flutter sleeves, matching shorts-style panties, and a thin cotton camisole. Anklets on both legs. The embarrassment was constant, but worse was how normal it had started to feel.

Each house had a different woman. Each smile was new. Every time, Maria introduced her warmly.

“This is my daughter, Jerusha.”

Some replied, “So pretty! You look just like your mother.”

Others said, “We thought your daughter was in Coimbatore school?”

Maria smiled tightly. “She was. But God wanted her closer to us now.”

They offered juice, sweets. Jerusha sat with knees together, sipping slowly, correcting her posture every second. One lady touched her cheeks and said, “You’ll be a heartbreaker soon.”

Back home, Kathir lay on the bed in the same dress, staring at the ceiling. The camisole’s bow was pressing against his chest. He didn’t change. He just let himself fall asleep.

Wednesday – Office Girl

That Wednesday, school ended early due to a staff meeting.

Stephen arrived in the Volvo to pick her up.

“Appa,” she said faintly, not even thinking.

“Princess,” he replied, opening the passenger door. “Want to come to my office for a bit?”

She was too tired to argue. She wore her usual school uniform - maroon skirt, shirt tucked tight, girl shoes, and beneath it all, the regulation white cotton bra and panty set.

At the office, the staff greeted her with folded hands. “Good morning, Miss Joy,” a man said as she walked through the lobby.

Inside the boardroom, Stephen gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“This is my daughter, Jerusha. She’ll sit in today. Just ignore the princess in the corner.”

Everyone smiled warmly.

She sat through one hour of corporate talk about shares and logistics, sipping orange juice. When Stephen occasionally turned to check on her, his smile was… proud.

Afterward, he bought her a small silver pen. “First day at my office. A memory gift.”

She nodded, clutching it.

Friday – An Anniversary of Love

That Friday was special - Maria and Stephen’s 20th wedding anniversary.

The house was decorated with soft gold drapes, floating candles, and a cake that read Two Decades of Joy.

They gave her a dress. A pastel pink silk lehenga with floral embroidery, net dupatta, and mirror blouse. The blouse exposed her belly, where her skin now blended perfectly into the prosthetic line. She wore a strapless bra, matching panty, and was helped into body shimmer, a gold bangle set, and simple nose pin.

Her hair was curled into soft waves. Stephen applied a bindi on her forehead himself.

They wore matching beige silk. The three of them stood in front of a decorated backdrop that read “Joy Family”.

Someone held a phone.

“Smile!”

And in that moment, Maria kissed her right cheek, Stephen kissed her left, and everyone shouted,

“Joy!”

The flash captured them as they were: a family, impossibly constructed, terrifyingly complete.

That Night – A Realization in Reflection

Later that night, Jerusha removed her lehenga, cleaned her face, and changed into a long cotton nightgown with a printed floral pattern.

She stood in front of the mirror.

The girl in the reflection… she was tired. Gloss still clung to her lips, the faint perfume of jasmine around her collarbone.

She pulled open the diary again.

“Reuben smiled at me.
I was kissed today… as a daughter.

I keep thinking this is temporary.
But what if it’s not?

I used to think I was wearing Jerusha’s life.

But now…

Maybe she’s the one wearing me.”

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 20: “Ripple of a Name, Splash of a Girl”

Morning – The Campaign Begins

Monday morning had a strange energy. Jerusha adjusted the maroon uniform skirt around her prosthetic hips, pinned the dupatta tightly, brushed her now-styled shoulder-length hair back with gel and floral clips. Her lips had a faint pink hue, thanks to the new organic gloss Amma insisted she wear daily. Her socks were neatly pulled up, the black shoes buffed, and around her neck, as always, sat the platinum cross chain with that weighty sparkle.

In the mirror, a schoolgirl looked back - seventeen years old, dusky-sweet, with slightly puffed cheeks, shaped brows, and soft hands.

Inside, Kathir still floated, but silently now.

At school, she sat with her new bestie Aishu in the garden block before the bell rang.

“You didn’t check the board, da,” Aishu whispered, chewing gum and twirling her pen. “Guess who’s nominated for Cultural Secretary?”

Kathir blinked. “Who?”

“You, dee!” Aishu smirked. “I wrote your name! Thought you’d like it. You dance, you dress neat, people like you. Better than those other overstyled girls.”

“Enna da, nee vera…” Jerusha blinked in shock. Her chest tightened. “But I…”

“Don’t start crying. Just ask for votes. Smile cutely. You’ll get it!”

Before she could protest, the morning bell rang.

Throughout the day, people came up to her:

“Jerusha, we’ll vote for you okay? Say something in assembly!”
“Jeru, campaign la evlo style ah irundha sari, nee thaan win panra.”
“Jeru kutty! Nee enga Cultural Cinderella!”

Every word felt like a pink ribbon tied tighter around her.

In the girls’ restroom, she locked herself in a stall, sitting down slowly to urinate like she was taught now, adjusting the uniform skirt and wiping herself. She stared at the panty - white cotton with a maroon bow - and wondered where her old self was buried.

But outside, she smiled. The prosthetics didn’t allow doubt. Her soft face, her clear voice, her earrings - all declared, Jerusha Anne Joy is here to stay.

Evening – Gossip in the Car

Appa arrived at the usual time. As soon as the Volvo doors closed, she began rambling.

“Appa, today Aishu wrote my name in the nomination, and everyone came and started calling me cultural kutty! You know that big girl from Blue House? She was like ‘Miss Joy looking stylish’... Aiyyo, so embarrassing.”

Stephen just smiled, eyes warm, hands on the wheel. His daughter was glowing.

She continued, twirling her fingers, swinging her skirt, and gossiping about her teachers, the cafeteria samosas, the boy who tripped on his shoelace.

He never interrupted. Just listened.

As the car reached their street, she was still talking.

A Splash of Surprise

Just before turning into Joy Villa, Stephen slowed down.

“Close your eyes, baby. Surprise for my campaign girl.”

Jerusha did, giggling nervously.

When the car stopped, Stephen led her by hand.

“Okay… now!”

She opened her eyes to see the backyard - now home to a brand new aquamarine-tiled swimming pool, glimmering in the evening light.

Before she could even react, he pushed her in!

“Appaaaaaa!” she shrieked, flailing in shock as water enveloped her.

Her skirt floated. She stood up sputtering, her maroon uniform now clinging to her chest and thighs like second skin.

He laughed. “Adhu surprise kutty!”

Soaked, Jerusha stepped out dripping wet and marched up to him with a furious pout, water splashing under her shoes.

She began hitting his chest with wet palms. “You’re horrible! So mean! I’ll tell Amma!”

Stephen wiped his own tears of laughter. “My kutty looks like a drenched angel.”

Frills, Family, and Floating Joy

Maria came running with a plush towel and began drying her like a baby.

“My ponnu … my Jerukutty’s shivering!”

She helped her undress in the backyard change stall, gave her a light pink frilly swimsuit with ruffles and a strawberry patch.

Jerusha shivered as she wore it - no inners, just the tight stretch of the fabric over her smooth prosthetics, the frills brushing her upper thighs.

Her father joined in, wearing swimming shorts. Maria wore a simple swim sari.

And in the dim gold of the sunset, the Joy family swam, played, and laughed. The pool echoed with joy, the water bubbling with happiness. No tears. No grief. Just life.

Kathir, underneath, let go for that evening. He splashed. He laughed. He didn’t think.

Night – A Mother’s Lap

Later, hair washed, body perfumed, and dressed in a nightgown with small white daisies, Jerusha curled up in the master bedroom.

Maria sat on the bed, combing her hair slowly.

“Amma, can you… sing that song again?”

Maria smiled and gently began:

“Nila nila odi vaa…
Vennilave vaa…
En ponnu kanavugalil
Sirikkum vazhi kaattu vaa…”

Kathir’s eyes closed. Her hand lay on Maria’s thigh. Her cheek rested on her mother’s lap.

Stephen came, kissed her forehead softly, and lay beside her.

The girl slept between them. Breathing slowly.

The room was dark.

But the only light… came from the Joy Family Photo Frame, where the soft LED blinked gently under the caption:

“Our Daughter, Our Joy.”