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My Valentine surprise for him. 
By now, my double life feels 

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almost normal. 
At work, I'm Alana, Mr. 

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Hancock's polished, loyal 
secretary. 

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Outside the office, my feelings 
for him have grown deeper, 

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quieter and more dangerous. 
We've shared long looks, gentle 

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touches and moments that felt 
too real to ignore. 

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But through all of it, my secret
remains. 

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He still doesn't know the truth 
about me. 

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And somehow that makes every 
feeling stronger. 

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I am still Alana, still a boy in
a dress, and Mr. Hancock doesn't

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know I love him so much. 
And I think he loves me, too. 

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Valentine's Day felt different 
this year. 

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I didn't buy a card, didn't 
write a note. 

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Instead, I did something braver.
I sat on my bed wearing a red 

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polka dot dress, the fabric soft
against my skin. 

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The neckline was gentle, 
feminine without being loud. 

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Black stockings hugged my legs, 
and my heels waited nearby. 

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My wig fell in loose waves over 
my shoulders, framing my face. 

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My makeup was sweet, rosy lips, 
soft eyes, just enough shimmer. 

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In my arms I held a small brown 
teddy bear. 

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I had bought it for him, not 
flashy, not expensive, just 

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honest. 
The room glowed in warm light. 

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I crossed my legs, carefully 
smoothing my skirt the way I 

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always did, even when I was 
alone. 

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Old habits die hard. 
Someone took the photo for me. 

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I tilted my head slightly, shy 
smile on my lips, clutching the 

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teddy bear close to my chest. 
The red background behind me 

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looked dreamy, almost 
heart-shaped, like it knew what 

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this moment meant. 
This wasn't just a gift, it was 

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me. 
Later that evening, I slipped 

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00:02:01,000 --> 00:02:04,320
the bear into a simple gift bag 
and placed it on his desk before

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00:02:04,320 --> 00:02:07,880
he arrived. 
No name, just a small tag that 

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read for someone special. 
When he came in, I watched from 

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my desk. 
He picked it up, smiled, then he

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looked at me. 
Alana. 

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He said softly. 
Was this you? 

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I nodded. 
I wanted to do something 

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personal. 
He walked over slowly, holding 

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the bear like it was fragile. 
That's very sweet, he said. 

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Thank you. 
Our eyes met. 

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Not boss and secretary, not 
roles, just two people. 

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I'm glad you're in my life, he 
added quietly. 

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My heart nearly broke open. 
I'm glad too, I whispered. 

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He squeezed my hand once. 
Nothing dramatic, nothing 

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obvious, but it felt like 
everything. 

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That night, alone in my room, I 
replayed his smile in my head, 

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the way his voice softened when 
he spoke to me, the way he 

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looked like he wanted to say 
more but didn't. 

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I hugged my pillow and laughed 
softly. 

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Still Alana, still hiding, still
scared, but more in love than 

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ever. 
Did you feel it too? 

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