I stood barefoot in the middle of the penthouse living room, arms wrapped around myself, while strangers measured every curve of this body like I was a mannequin.
The stylists moved around me with quick hands and nervous smiles. Tape measures slid across my breasts, my waist, my hips. Someone tugged gently at the hem of the silk robe I was wearing. Another person adjusted my hair so it fell just right over my shoulders.
I felt exposed. Not just naked — exposed in a deeper way. Like they were dressing up a doll that used to belong to someone else.
Homelander sat on the couch across the room, sipping milk from a glass, watching everything with that calm, unreadable stare. Every time his eyes landed on me, my stomach tightened.
"Starlight needs an update," the lead designer said brightly, flipping through her tablet. "After Season 4, people want to see resilience… but also that classic hope. Something fresh."
I swallowed hard.
They brought out the first prototype — the safe one. Almost exactly like Annie's old suit. White fabric with gold trim, modest neckline, full coverage. When I slipped it on behind the privacy screen and stepped out, I caught my reflection in the big mirror.
I looked… perfect.
Too perfect.
The suit fit like it had been painted on. The star sat right over my heart. My golden hair framed my face exactly the way Annie's used to in all the posters. I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt hollow.
"This one feels like her," I said quietly, mostly to myself.
Homelander tilted his head. "You don't sound happy."
I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked like Starlight. She moved like Starlight. But every time I breathed, I could feel the weight on my chest, the sway of my hips, the way the fabric brushed against skin that still didn't fully feel like mine.
"It's just… it's like wearing a dead girl's clothes," I whispered.
The room went awkwardly silent.
I turned to the rack and pointed at the second prototype — the bolder one. Deeper neckline. Shorter skirt. Thinner straps. Gold threads that were supposed to glow when I used my powers.
"Can I try this instead?"
The stylists hesitated, but Homelander gave a small nod.
When I put it on, everything felt different.
The neckline plunged lower than I expected, showing the soft inner curves of my breasts. The skirt ended higher on my thighs. When I moved, the fabric shifted and clung in ways that made me hyper-aware of every inch of this body. I tugged at the hem, trying to pull it down a little, but it didn't help much.
I stepped in front of the mirror again.
My cheeks flushed. I looked… hot. Powerful, yes — but also undeniably sexy. The kind of sexy that made people stare. The kind of sexy Annie had always tried to tone down.
I turned slowly, watching how the shorter skirt moved with my legs, how the gold accents caught the light. A strange mix of embarrassment and curiosity washed over me.
"It's too much," I said at first, voice small.
But then I summoned a tiny spark of light in my palm. The golden threads in the suit responded instantly, lighting up softly like they were alive. The whole costume glowed gently, making me look almost ethereal.
I stared at myself for a long time.
This wasn't Annie's suit anymore.
It wasn't Kevin's either.
It was something in between.
"I… I kind of like it," I admitted quietly, surprising even myself. "But can we make the neckline a little less… obvious? And maybe the skirt not quite so short? I don't want to feel like I'm performing for everyone."
The lead designer nodded quickly and started marking adjustments.
Homelander stood up and walked behind me. His reflection appeared in the mirror, tall and imposing. He placed his hands lightly on my waist, not squeezing, just resting there.
"You're changing," he said softly, almost gently. "Not just the suit. You."
I met his eyes in the glass. My voice came out shaky.
"I don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore. Every time I look in the mirror, I see her face… but it doesn't feel like her inside. And it definitely doesn't feel like me — the old me."
He didn't laugh. For once, he just listened.
I tugged at the neckline again, trying to cover a little more skin. "I want to feel comfortable in this. Like it's actually mine. Not just something Vought dressed me up in to fix their mess."
One of the stylists spoke up carefully. "We can add more coverage on the sides, make the glow subtler, and adjust the length. Whatever makes you feel… more like you."
I nodded, throat tight.
"Yeah. Let's do that."
After they left with the updated measurements, I stood alone in front of the mirror again, still wearing the prototype.
The changes weren't huge, but they mattered.
The neckline was deeper than Annie's old one, but not obscene. The skirt gave me room to move without feeling exposed. The glowing threads were soft — not flashy, just warm, like real sunlight on skin.
I touched the star emblem on my chest.
It didn't feel like a costume anymore.
It felt like new skin.
Still uncomfortable. Still strange.
But maybe… starting to fit.
I whispered to my reflection, voice barely audible:
"I don't know if I'm becoming Starlight… or if Starlight is becoming me."
Somewhere deep inside, the quiet voice that used to be Kevin didn't argue.
It just waited.
And for the first time, it didn't feel completely terrified.