“You have always wondered why I never swim with you,” I said to her.

The crowd was completely silent now.

Even the summer breeze seemed to die down.

“You wondered why I wear long sleeves in the summer,” I continued.

“Maya, stop this,” Mother begged, her hands shaking so hard the cake tilted.

I reached for the silk sash at my waist.

With one quick pull, the knot untied.

I let the heavy silk slide off my shoulders.

The robe pooled around my ankles on the wet tiles.

A collective gasp rippled through the two hundred guests.

Several people stepped back, their eyes wide with shock.

My left shoulder, my chest, and the entire left side of my torso were covered in thick, distorted skin.

The scars were a map of shiny, red and white ridges that stretched down to my thigh.

They were puckered and tight, pulling my skin in unnatural directions.

Chloe stared at my body, her jaw open, her face losing all its color.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, covering her mouth with both hands. “Maya, what is that?”

She had never seen them.

Our parents had made sure of that, keeping us in separate bedrooms and enforcing strict rules about my clothing.

I looked directly into my sister’s terrified eyes.

“These scars are the only reason you are standing here today,” I said.

My mother dropped the birthday cake.

The glass platter shattered on the stone, sending white frosting and sparks flying across the ground.

Father took a heavy step toward me, his face pale and his fists clenched.

“Silence her,” he muttered to Mother, his eyes wide with panic.

But I did not move.

I looked at the stunned crowd, then back at my trembling sister.

I was finally ready to tell them what happened twelve years ago in our playroom.

“Do not come near me, Father,” I said.