The Secret Revealed
Clara sank into the edge of the bed, clutching her gown to her chest. “Arthur,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I never wanted you to see me like this. I was afraid… afraid you would leave me if you knew the truth.”
With shaking hands, she let the fabric fall from her shoulders. There, across her back and side, ran scars—faint, but unmistakable. They were not marks of vanity, nor shameful mistakes. They were reminders of battles she had survived as a child.
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. “Who… who did this to you?”
Tears streamed down Clara’s face. “Years ago, before you knew me, I was caught in a terrible fire. It destroyed part of our home. My father saved me, but I carried these scars ever since. He was ashamed of them, ashamed of me. That’s why he fought so hard against our marriage—he thought you deserved someone ‘perfect.’ He thought I would bring you nothing but disgrace.”
