Just like the first time my life splintered, today started off beautifully. It’s the last day of our trip. Everyone was heading home tomorrow, including me. Harry and I were planning to talk about where we’d go from here. But we’d agreed-we're doing this.

The lot of us had taken a train down to Richmond. My mother's obsession with all things Tudor, the unseasonably clear weather and the prospect of adventure led us to wandering Henry the Eighth's great palace by the river, Hampton Court Palace. The palace, which is over five hundred years old, sits on the outskirts of London, overlooking the Thames River. We'd toured the Great Maze, the most famous of its kind in the world. As we worked our way through, the many hidey holes and alcoves provided Harry and I ample opportunity for sneaked kisses, desperate and hot each time. And when we managed to break apart from the group, it was like we were sixteen again. Kissing in cushions of bushes, our hips grinding, our hands grasping and groping. Jumping apart when the snapping of a twig told us someone was coming.

Our relationship wasn't a secret. But we also couldn’t get enough of each other. Our kisses were all moments of discovery - I found out that when Harry's tongue swipes the inside of my lower lip, it tickled. We learned that it was worth braving the cold so that Harry lift my shirt and suck my nipples until they throbbed. I now know that if I need to, I can be off my knees in a split second.

All of the possibility and thrill of newly discovered love and insatiable lust created a bubble around us that felt impenetrable and made us feel invincible.

But it wasn't. And we weren’t.

* * *

We're lounging in the family's library after dinner. Everyone is full and lazy from the dinner of Cornish hens bursting with chestnut stuffing and roasted baby potatoes dripping in butter and herbs straight from the garden. Desert had been a warm sticky toffee pudding that had everyone sighing in ecstasy. The children have gone to bed. Cara and Louis are already on their honeymoon so, it just us - My parents, my sisters, Dean and Harry, and his parents. Simon and Kyle have both had to go back to London. And last but not least, Freya isn’t here.

She hadn't joined us at Hampton Court and I knew it was because of me. She didn't try to hide her dislike and disapproval when she realized that Harry and I had reconciled. I'd tried to talk to her at the wedding breakfast and she'd told me that she had nothing to say to me. She’s avoided me since then.

Milly and I are playing a game of Gin Rummy, my parents and Louis' parents are playing Uno. Harry and Dean arguing about football and Addie is asleep on the lounge chair in the corner.

When the door bangs open, it’s not just the sound that disturbs the tranquil atmosphere, but raw anger that is rolling off Freya in waves as she enters the room.

No one else seems to pay her entrance much attention. Barely glancing at the door before returning to their entertainments, but I do. Because her eyes are trained on me and they are fully of fury.

I sit up straight, completely forgetting that Milly is waiting for me to take make the next move. In the fringes of my awareness, I hear her say, "Lilly, come on. You better not be cheating."

When I don't respond, I see her, in the periphery of my vision, sit up straight and follow my gaze.

Freya, looks like a gladiator entering the ring as she walks into the room, clutching my phone in her hand. And right away, I know. I shake my head at her. Hoping that she has a shred of mercy in her, pleading for her to please, don’t.

She ignores my silent entreaty with the shake of her own head and the flare of her nostril. My eyes follow her as she turns her head to look at Harry, whose head is thrown back in laughter at whatever Dean just said.

He's her brother. She loves him and she knows that I’ve deceived him. I stare at him, memorizing the way his cheek bones announce themselves when he smiles, at the way his curls bounce on his jostling head when he's laughing. I close my eyes and commit to heart the sound of his unfettered laughter. And then I look back at Freya. She's watching me, too. Her lip curled in scorn.

"Freya, please,” I say before I can stop myself and everyone looks at me. I stand up, wiping my damp palms down the front of my jeans and look around the room.

Addie is awake, her eyes darting between the two of us. My parents are staring at Freya, both of them with alarm in their eyes. Milly is looking at me and at then at my phone in Freya's hand. I finally let myself look back to Harry and he's standing too, looking at his sister.

"Fre, what's going on?" He asks slowly.

Her triumphant glare sweeps over me before she turns to face her brother.

"What's going on, Harry is that your girlfriend here has a baby.”

She holds my phone up to the room and shows them the picture I knew she'd found as soon as she walked in.

Everyone, my family, Harry, Dean, everyone walks over to her so they can see what she's talking about.

I charge at her, white hot rage, the likes of which I've never felt before propelling me through the people in my way. I lunge as soon as I’m close enough to make sure I can reach her.

"Give me my phone, you fucking shit faced thief.” I scream as I reach for it. Her eyes widen and her face drains of color. My father’s arm comes around my waist and hauls me back just before my open palm reaches her face. I struggle in his hold and the whole room erupts in pandemonium. Everyone’s talking at once, but Freya’s voice rises above the din.

"I didn't steal it. Camille did. She brought it to me tonight." She hisses at me, her eyes full of venom but her composure reeks of satisfaction. She’s accomplished what she came here to do.

"You don't know anything. Give it to me. Now." I snarl, completely out of my mind with fury and grief. I lunge again and this time Dean has to help my father when I break free and my hands fly towards Freya. I can’t see anything but her and my phone.

"I will not.” She says haughtily. Harry stares between us dumbfounded.

“You. Fucking. Will.” I scream.

She shoves the phone at me, the picture zoomed into what is clearly the top of my head.

“Explain this,” she demands. “Everyone’s seen it now, so explain it. You have a baby that you haven't told my brother about,” she says and there's a glee in her malice that turns my blood into rivers of lava.

My father and Dean loosen their holds on me as they stare at the picture, too. I break free and whirl to face the rest of them.

My mother is clutching the arm of the sofa, my father's face is slack with shock, Milly is looking at me as if she's never seen me before and Addie is crying.

"Lilly." Harry's voice, the plea in it is like a dagger in my chest. I look at him. His face is drawn with lines of tension and disbelief. His question unspoken but clear.

I nod and his head drops, his shoulders hunch before he falls back into the chair beside him.

"How could you?" I look at Freya, so angry.

"How could I?" She demands haughtily. "I'm not the one lying," she glances around the room, "apparently to everyone about my child."

My father walks to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Lilly, What does that mean? How?"

He reaches for the phone and Freya, after a moment's hesitation, drops it in his hand. He stares at it. The picture is of me in my hospital gown, in the delivery bed, my baby at my breast. My face obscured but there's no question that it's me. My hand, the same one cradling that sweet, downy, delicate head in the picture aches at the memory. "I had a baby. Four years ago. That picture is the only one I have of her.” The phantom pain of my milk drying up tugs deep in my breast and I close my eyes.

“It was taken a few hours before the family who adopted came to get her." My voice breaks, my heart breaks, my entire soul cracks. And I let the tears flow. Who cares if they see my cry, now? They know everything.

“Lilly. How? Why didn't you tell us? How can this be?" This from my mother, her tone rife with accusation and hurt.

"Why should have I told you?" I whisper, directing it not only at her, but at all of the people watching me.

"What do you mean? You had a baby!" She shouts hysterically, pushing frantic hands through her hair.

"Yes, I did. All by myself and it is None. Of. Your. Business." I say holding my head as high as I can. It’s a Herculean effort, my anger, defeat and fear have turned every bone in my body to jelly. I’m struggling to keep myself upright. This is a nightmare of proportions to large to measure.

I steady myself with a deep breath and continue, "I was raped.” My sob catches me by surprise, but I reign my emotion in again before I continue. “You were all downstairs watching a movie. I could hear you laughing.” My sisters both gasp and cover their mouths at the same time. I just glance at them and then look back at the floor.

“The next morning, you cooked breakfast for him and didn't notice that your daughter was barely able to speak. You were there and I was falling apart.” My hand comes to the base of my throat, my sobs are harder to restrain now. “Not one of you looked at me long enough to notice.” My brain is confused and goes into autopilot. But my words carry my resentment and disappointment clearly, “So, forgive me for not trusting you to help me with the hardest moment of my life."

A horrible, dark, and heavy silence descends on the room. I am feeling so many things at once that I can’t express myself, but it’s like they’re leeching out of me and filling the room, choking us everyone.

Harry's parents stand up. "We're going to give you all some privacy,” his mother says. As she walks past me, she grabs my hands and gives it a quick hard squeeze. I’m surprised but by the time I recover, she’s already moved on. She grabs Freya by the arm and pushes her out of the room ahead of her.

"Lilly, I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asks, anguished and torn. I can see he wants to come to me. But I know he won't. My composure crumbles and I let my tears flow.

"I was going to. Harry. I was. I promise,” I plead with him to believe me. I'm crying freely now, my nose running, my tears unrestrained.

I want to go to him, to explain, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.

"Lillian,” My sister, Milly’s soft voice beckons me. I turn toward her and she holds her arms open for me.

I go to her, desperate for the refuge, for the comfort. I wrap my arms around her waist, bury my face in her shoulder and weep.

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. It was Paul Jermyn, wasn't it?" She asks, her tone pacifying.

I nod and nestle into her.

"You only came home after he died. I realize it now. It makes sense." She says, her own voice strained.

"Lilly, please, tell me why you didn't let us help you?" My mother pleads from her chair. And something about the underlying disappointment in her voice seizes my grief and twists it into bitter anger.

"How could you have helped me? How could I tell you that I let that man rape me? The man we all respected so much? How? What would you have said? He said you wouldn’t believe me and I believed him.”

“But why, Lilly? Why?” My mother cries, sounding heart broken and confused – her voice high, frantic and panicked.

“Why what?” I snap. But I’m more tired than angry. There are so many things swirling in my head. The rape, the way I felt afterwards were all overshadowed by what came next.

I hang my head and just stare at the rug, dragged back to a time I haven’t wanted to revisit. That in the last week, I’ve had to revisit three times. “I didn't come home for five years and none of you have even asked me why.”

I sit down and stare at my feet, my hands clasped together while I speak. Despondency and resignation are personified in me as I'm forced to share the one thing I'd sworn I never would.

"Oh God. I’m so sorry, Lilly. I…" My mother moans. My father hasn't said a word. I look up at him. His face is an unreadable mask. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the last ten minutes. He stares straight ahead, his eyes wide as if he's watching a horror movie and wants to look away, but can’t.

"What could you have done for me? I wasn't sure that it hadn’t been my fault. I didn't scream for help. Hell, I didn’t even fight him. I was so scared. He said you wouldn’t believe me." My words leave me in a rush, like a river freed of its's dam, they spill. "And then when I got home and found out I was pregnant, I had to tell Tomas. He thought I'd had an affair and then he kicked me out. I scheduled an abortion, but got scared. I didn’t have anyone…”

I remember the crushing loneliness as I’d gotten in my car to drive to the clinic. And how I’d turned my car around because I’d been afraid to go on my own.

“I had plenty of money and a roof over my head. I decided that I would wait until I was five months before I told you all. But then, one day I felt something, like popcorn popping in my gut…it was her.” My hand goes to my lower abdomen and I caress it as I remember that day. “I fell in love with her. So deeply.” I tremble at the memory. Of what those nearly 9 months I got with her were like. When she was all mine, cocooned in my body where I could keep her safe.

I knew, for the first time, what it really meant to love someone more than yourself. I knew I had to do what was best for her.

“She deserved better than me. So, I found an agency and they arranged everything. That picture was taken by a nurse who let me have a few minutes to say goodbye.” I my speech is wooden, my voice devoid of emotion, all of it roiling like a tsunami inside me.

Milly comes to sit with me, Dean at her heels. She puts an arm around me but doesn't say anything. He puts an arm around her. I want Harry. I feel so desperate for time to roll back. To have the chance to tell him myself. And I want Zadie. That's what I called her. My arms, my heart feel so empty. I can't look at anyone.

"She was my baby," I bite my lower lip to still its trembling so I can talk. "But, I had to. I didn’t want her life story to be tainted by mine. It was all I could give her. She deserved to grow up knowing nothing but love. I was afraid she would look like him and it would make me resent her,” I admit. Milly sobs and pulls me even closer.

“I loved her so much. I miss her so much that I can't bear it.” I grit my teeth, “But, I made her promises when I kissed her goodbye.” I pull away from Milly and point at them.

“Promises I intended to keep.” I’m angry at Freya all over again and wish she was in the room so I could gouge her fucking eyes out.

“I wasn't lying to you. This is between her and me. None of you had the right to this story. It was mine." I am nearing hysteria and I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my pent-up screams.

I hear the soft click of the door's handle as it open and look up. I’m just in time to see Harry's retreating back as he walks out of the room.

It's too much. All of it. I can't feel anything but a hot searing pain. Everyone is silent. No one speaks or moves. We all just sit and stare, some crying silently, or like my mother wailing loudly.

The truth always finds its way out. He’d said last night and he was right. It has. And now, everything is finished.