Dad’s head snapped toward her.
That was new to him.
“You planned this?”
Chloe’s mouth opened, but no answer came.
I didn’t need one.
Her silence was enough.
My father took one step toward her.
“You planned to humiliate your sister in front of all these people?”
Chloe began crying.
“I thought she was just being difficult.
I thought she wanted attention.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
“By covering every inch of myself?”
She looked at me.
“I didn’t know.”
“No,” I said.
“You didn’t.”
My mother reached for my arm, then stopped before touching the scarred skin.
For years she had treated my scars like evidence of a family tragedy that had to remain covered emotionally even when they were covered physically.
I picked up the robe from the ground.
For a moment, everyone probably expected me to put it back on.
I didn’t.
I folded it once and laid it across the chair.
That tiny action seemed to affect my mother more than anything else.
She began crying again.
Chloe took a step toward me.
“Maya, I’m sorry.”
I held up one hand.
She stopped.
“Don’t apologize because everyone is watching now.”
Her eyes dropped.
“Then when?”
“When nobody is.”
That was the first boundary I had ever given my twin without immediately softening it for her.
The party ended within minutes.
There was no announcement.
People simply began leaving.
Some guests came near me as they passed, clearly wanting to say something, but most seemed to realize that an apology from a spectator would not repair what had happened.
The phones disappeared into pockets.
The music never came back on.
By sunset, the backyard that had held nearly two hundred people was empty except for the four of us.
Chloe sat on the edge of the pool with a towel around her shoulders.
I remained uncovered.
For once, she was the one hiding.
My father brought out four glasses of water.
Nobody touched them.
Eventually Chloe said, “Do you hate me?”
I thought about the question.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“But I don’t trust you right now.”
That hurt her more.
I could see it.
Good.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because consequences were the first honest thing our family had allowed into the conversation all day.
