Chapter 3: The Raw Truth

I slipped onto the bed, tossing the sheet and blanket to the floor with a defiant flick of my wrist. The air in the room felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the day. Valeria and Natalya stood frozen in the doorway, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of me stretched out unapologetically on the mattress.

“Maya,” Valeria said, her voice sharp with judgment, “no clothes and now sleeping with nothing on? What’s next? Are you just going to live like this forever?”

Natalya crossed her arms, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, good luck explaining this to your future boss. Or your future husband.”

I sat up slowly, meeting their stares head-on. “I just spent an entire day walking around naked in front of the entire family. Why would I start hiding now?”

Valeria opened her mouth to retort, but Natalya cut her off with a scoff. “Because it’s weird, Maya. It’s not normal.”

“Normal?” I laughed, the sound brittle. “Since when have any of us been ‘normal’? You two still live at home at twenty-three, arguing over who gets Mom’s old jewelry. Don’t talk to me about normal.”

Their faces flushed in unison, twin masks of indignation. But before they could fire back, I lay back down, turning my face toward the wall. “Goodnight,” I said flatly.

They lingered for a moment, muttering under their breath about “attention-seeking” and “embarrassing the family,” before slamming the door shut.

The next morning, I woke before dawn, the first pale light of day seeping through the blinds. My sisters were still asleep, Valeria snoring softly and Natalya curled into a tight ball, as if even in sleep she couldn’t relax. I slipped out of bed and into the shower, letting the water cascade over me. When I stepped out, I draped the towel over my shoulders like a cape, drying my body in sections but never bothering to wrap it around myself fully.

In the common area, Mom was already sipping her coffee, her gaze steady as I walked in. She didn’t flinch, didn’t avert her eyes. Instead, she gestured to my bag of clothes, now sitting neatly by the door.

“The van’s packed,” she said quietly. “Do you want these?”

I paused, staring at the bag. For a moment, I thought about the life I’d lived before this weekend—the tight jeans, the bras that dug into my ribs, the endless cycle of outfits meant to please everyone but myself. Then I looked at Mom, her face unreadable but her eyes soft.

“Yes,” I said finally. “But ... not yet. I want to stay like this until we get home. If that’s okay.”

She nodded, a flicker of pride in her smile. “It’s your choice, Maja. Always has been.”

The ride home was quieter than the drive to the wedding. Valeria and Natalya sat stiffly in the backseat, their eyes glued to their phones, refusing to acknowledge me. Dad kept his gaze fixed on the road, though I caught him glancing at me in the rearview mirror once or twice, his expression a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance. Mom, meanwhile, chatted casually about the weather, the wedding, the mole recipe she’d swapped with Tina Rosa—as if my nakedness were as unremarkable as the cactus dotted along the highway.