Wednesday, August 27th, 2042, Capitol Hill, Seattle, Washington.


    The hum of the air conditioner in the corner of the cramped, worn-down apartment was barely enough to drown out the rain tapping relentlessly against the window. Martin-Ethan Archer—M-E to most, but Emmy to herself—sat at her desk, her eyes closed, trying to let the familiar sound of rain calm her mind. It had been a long day at work, and she had just disconnected from the FullDive rig only a few minutes ago.


    On a small, auxiliary monitor, the text “A Realm Reforged Again installation complete” blinked, its soft glow filling the room. But her thoughts were not on the game. Not yet.


    Instead, they drifted back to a different time, a different life—a life she used to have with Claire. Claire, the mother of her children, and her ex-wife.


    Her thoughts settled on the argument that had finally broken them.


    “How can you be so selfish?” Claire’s voice had cracked like a whip, sharp and unforgiving, filling every inch of the kitchen. Her hands had trembled, her expression an all-too-familiar mask of righteous anger.


    Emmy had barely managed to look at her in the face. “Selfish?” she had said, her throat tight and her body locked up. “How am I…?—”


    “Don’t even try to turn this around on me,” Claire had cut her off, slamming her hand down on the counter. “I’m the only one who’s been trying to hold this marriage together, while you just... check out.”


    “I haven’t checked out,” Emmy had replied weakly, but even she had not believed her words. She had known how distant she had been. She had seen how much of herself had slowly slipped away. The truth had been stuck, like a stone lodged in her throat.


    But there was nothing she could have done better. Claire had made her choice a long time ago—radicalised by the extreme-right rhetoric that Emmy had watched take root over the years, creeping into their conversations, into the way Claire spoke about the world. “That wasn’t in God’s plan.” “God didn’t make them this way.” “As Christians, we have to fight back against this perversion.” It had terrified Emmy. If Claire ever learned the truth…


    Claire’s eyes had scanned her, cold and piercing. “I’m here, fighting for us, for our family, while you...” Claire’s gaze had hardened, the weight of her next words pressing into the silence. “I don’t even know what you’re fighting for anymore.”


    That question, asked so quietly yet with so much weight, had hung between them, suffocating. Emmy had wanted to say something—anything—but the truth she had held inside felt too dangerous to release. She had wanted to scream, wanted to explain why she felt so absent, so lost in her own skin, but how could she? How could she ever tell Claire the real reason she had felt like a ghost in her own life?


    “I can’t be the only one trying,” Claire had continued, her voice breaking just slightly, though the anger had simmered still. “I’m holding everything together for us, for the kids... and you just stand there. Emotionally absent.”


    Emmy had swallowed hard, her fists clenched tight at her sides. I don’t know how to tell you...


    The silence had stretched, a chasm between them, and it was Claire who spoke again, softer now, almost broken. “I need a partner. Not a stranger.”


    That had been when Emmy realized she had to say something—Anything—even if she could not say everything. She had to say something. “I... I don’t think I can do this anymore.”


    Claire’s face had twisted in disbelief. “What?”


    Emmy’s voice had been shaking as the truth tried to fight its way out. “I tried... I’m not the one for you. I’ve been—”


    “Don’t.” Claire’s voice had risen again, sharp with anger. “Don’t even try to make this about something else. You’re just... leaving?”


    Emmy had looked away, unable to meet Claire’s eyes. She had not been able to tell her even a small part of the truth. The truth about the lie she had been living with every day. The version of herself that she had been too afraid to let out. She had heard the way Claire felt about transgender folks. Emmy had heard it countless times. How could she ever tell her who she truly was? “It’s not working anymore, Claire. I just need to go.”


    “That’s it?” Claire had scoffed, stepping closer, arms crossed in disbelief. “After everything, you’re just going to walk away? Just like that? No explanation, no fight?”


    Emmy’s heart had pounded in her chest. She had felt Claire’s eyes on her and felt the truth burning on the tip of her tongue, but she had not been able to do it. She had never told Claire the true reason why. “We’ve been fighting for months. What’s left to say?”


    “What’s left to say?!” Claire had shaken her head, her voice dripping with anger. “What’s wrong with you, Martin? I don’t even recognise you anymore.”


    Emmy had winced at the name. Every time, it had cut just as deep, but she had swallowed the pain. How could Claire understand when Emmy had always held everything inside? Emmy had never told a soul. Not even her best friend knew. That was a secret she had carried on her own.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    “Go then,” Claire had spat, her voice like ice. “But don’t come crying to me when you realise you’ve thrown everything away for nothing.”


    The memory still stung, even now. Sitting in her cramped apartment, alone, Emmy could still hear Claire’s voice in her head, still feel the weight of her icy stare.


    Thrown everything away for nothing. The words echoed in her mind. Emmy had often wondered if Claire was right. If she had made the wrong choice. The tiny apartment—barely large enough for her rig, a bed, and a kitchenette—felt like a far cry from the life she had built with Claire and their kids. Thirty-eight years old. A brilliant career in IT. And this tiny place? It was all she could afford now. It felt like the first apartment of a young adult fleeing their parent’s home at the first chance of independence. Like she had erased two decades of her life.


    But even if the choice had been painful, even if it had cost her more than she could have imagined, she knew she could not have stayed with Claire. Not like that. Not while living a lie.


    Emmy opened her eyes, the rain still tapping softly at the window. The blinking message on the monitor pulled her back to the present. The game’s installation was complete. It would be a distraction. A much-needed escape.


    She had played the original. This was a remake of something she first played when she was nine years old. Emily and Dan Archer, her parents, ran themselves ragged trying to keep a CrossFit gym afloat. They paid the monthly subscription of the MMORPG to keep their eldest children busy. Because their parents were so busy, Emmy often had to take care of her four-year-old brother, Sam. Whenever he needed anything, she would drop what she was doing in-game without complaining. The subscription doubled as payment for babysitting. And she milked that subscription for all it was worth.


    The small monitor reporting the completed installation was the only source of illumination in the cramped space in which she now lived. It was just enough to reveal the peeling wallpaper and mismatched furniture. It made her miss their house in Broadmoor, only a few miles away. Claire still lived there with Maya and Ewan, their children. Together, they continued the life she had helped build together. It felt profoundly unfair to Emmy, but there was never any doubt in her mind that Claire, a family practice lawyer, would end up with the better deal after the divorce.


    Emmy leaned back in her chair, slowly opening her eyes, one hand covering half her face. She stared at the cracked ceiling above her. The divorce had hit harder than she had expected. She had told herself she had seen it coming, but the reality—the loneliness, the loss—lingered like a dull ache in her chest, something she could not quite shake. Despite everything, the sound of the rain outside acted as a free white noise generator, which she had needed to fall asleep ever since the breakup. Without something soothing like that, her brain simply would not let her rest. Insomnia was a lifelong acquaintance at this point. One she wished she could part with, but that simply clung to you, no matter what.


    Her phone buzzed, pulling her from the memories swirling in her mind. She hesitated before reaching for it, trying to guess who was messaging her as she fumbled with the controls. On the lock screen, she could see it was a message from Jason, her best friend since high school. Likely an update about tonight’s plans. And knowing Jason, possibly bad news.


    Her phone buzzed again. This time, she picked it up.


    “Hey M-E, sorry I’ll be late—just finished the parent-teacher meeting, and I’m not even home yet. I’ll be late, but you want to stick to our plan tonight, anyway?”


    Called it.


    Jason was a middle-school teacher—introverted, reserved, and content to stay in the background most of the time. He had been Emmy’s best friend since high school, and although he was not much of a gamer, she had convinced him to try this one with her. When they gamed together, Jason followed her lead and Emmy did not mind. She actually liked that about him—his quiet presence. He demanded nothing from her, never questioned her choices. It made things easier, especially now when her own life felt so out of control.


    Jason let her take the lead, and she needed that—someone she did not have to explain herself to. Maybe that was why they worked so well together. There was something comfortable about how they both kept certain things unspoken, like neither of them needed to dig too deep into things that did not feel quite right. Jason always deferred to her in games, never making his wishes heard. Emmy could not explain it, but sometimes she wondered if there was more to it than just his laid-back nature. He was always so willing to go along with whatever anyone suggested, and he never seemed to mind when he was the one who sacrificed the most for the sake of the group.


    But back to the game they were about to play. Emmy was both a former raid-leader and genre-savvy gamer. She had devoured every bit of information and speculation that was out there on the new release. She could probably talk anyone’s head off just about class balance, given the chance, and she did not limit her knowledge to mechanical elements—lore, crafting, gathering—if there was a wiki article or video guide about it, she had seen, read, or heard it. Multiple times, likely.


    She let out a soft sigh, grateful for the distraction. At least in the game, she did not have to be Martin. She did not have to be the person everyone expected her to be. Not anymore. The developer promised they had solved the biggest problem of VR spaces for people like her. Being forced to be reminded of what your body looks like when you dive meant even games were no longer effective means of escape. As usual, technology had changed on everyone, and for the lucky ninety per cent, it was great. For the remaining ten? People like her? Well, too bad.


    “Yeah, no worries. I’ll go through character creation first and guide you through it when you get home?” she typed back, her fingers flashing over the screen.


    Part of her wanted to share that deeply personal moment with her best friend. But creating her ideal self, a female avatar, while her best friend watched over her shoulder? Perhaps it was for the best this way. Once he logged, it would simply be done. Fait accompli.


    As she set her phone down, her gaze lingered on the flickering monitor. For the first time in years, she would not have to be Martin in a game. She could finally be Emmy, the version of herself that she hid from everyone. A small smile crept onto her face. The world outside might still see Martin-Ethan Archer, but in this world, at least for a little while, she could live as her true self.


    Her FullDive VR was a stark contrast to the rest of the furniture in her cramped apartment. It was worth about the same as a luxury car. She had needed one for work, but the company could have provided one. Their standard rig would be serviceable, yes. But this one? Her baby? She had poured so much money and care into every minor component. And after the divorce? This device had been important to her before, but it was her entire life now.


    With a deep breath, Emmy slipped the neural headset over her head and leaned back in her chair, feeling the cool plastic against her skin. Her heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear. This was it—the moment she had been waiting for. She pressed the power button, and the world around her dissolved into darkness.