Novelas y relatos de I Was Always Second Until I Left

“Where will that leave me?” The first tear slipped down my cheek, and with it came a flood I couldn’t stop. “I’ve been abandoned all my life,” I cried softly, shaking my head. “Do you know what it’s like to always feel like the second choice? Like you’re only good enough until something better, someone better, shows up? That’s been my story since the beginning. And now—now I finally found something worth holding onto. *You.* The kids. This home. But with Daisy coming back… I’ll be tossed aside again. Won’t I?”

I need to take my leave when I needed to, and right now I knew that I was never going to belong here. Because for the second time in my life, I was cast out of the place I once called home. But this time... They would all regret it.

BRANDON’S POV Leaving Cameron the second time was harder than the first. Not because it hurt more—but because I knew exactly what I was leaving behind. The way he said, “I’ll be okay,” hadn’t sounded like something he was convincing himself of. It sounded like a fact. Like something he’d earned. That should’ve made this easier. Instead, it made it heavier. The airport was loud and bright and full of people rushing toward somewhere else, but all I could think about was the way Cameron’s hands had lingered on mine before I let go. Like neither of us wanted to be the first to break the contact.

they're gone. My heart feels like it stops beating. Why? Why did they just walk away? One by one. Without exception. The first to go was Cedric. He moved so quickly that I shouted in frustration, just like I did when I was a child. I didn't like it when Cedric left me behind to chase after him, as nimble as a deer. Before I could finish yelling Cedric's name, Anya followed suit. She simply waved gently. Her steps were ushered by Mom and Dad. Oh God!!! Why did they all leave?

“I never said anything because of Rhi. You two were so good together; I wasn’t going to ruin it. But then I felt the mate bond snap into place the night of my birthday, but you… you thought it was her. And she loved you so much she went along with it. So my chance was gone, and I knew I could never have you. “I’d always planned to leave. Then… then dad died,” I said, my voice coming out very small, “and it would’ve meant leaving Rhi alone. But it all got too much. You kept being drawn to me, then regretting it. I knew I would always be second best, that you would always choose my sister.” A single tear slipped down my cheek. “So that’s why I left. Not because I didn’t want you, but because I

“You can’t fire me anymore, CEO.” “I can still yell at you.’ “That is my cue to leave.’ “Micah.” “Hmm?” “I am proud of you too.” “…That makes two of us.” I walked out before she saw the smile. For the first time, I wasn’t leaving a warzone. I was leaving home.

Whether it was my father, my brother, or my former childhood sweetheart—I didn't want to see any of them anymore. With this thought, I stepped forward and never looked back.

No ceremony. And my brothers? They walked away—no last glance, no parting words. Just silence. I had been discarded like a stray mongrel. And in that silence, I finally understood the truth. To them… I was never a sister. Never a daughter. Just an inconvenience.

"It's all our fault. But Fifi, that's still your home—" "No, it isn't. That's yours and Simone's," I cut him off. "I've never felt like I belonged there. I'm happy with my life now. We just weren't meant to be family in this lifetime. Let's leave it at that. Please don't come looking for me again." I turned and walked away without another glance. I didn't care if they regretted not treating me better as they watched me leave. It was too late for regret anyway. I was no longer that girl who foolishly waited for their love.

When it’s my turn, I don’t rush. I look at him. Take a second. “The first time,” I say, “I didn’t feel like I had a say in what my life was becoming.” I hear my mother shift behind me. “I stayed because I thought that was what I was supposed to do.” I pause. “But I left because I knew I deserved something that felt real.” I see something change in his expression. Not guilt. Understanding. “And somehow,” I continue, “we found our way back without forcing it. Without trying to recreate something that didn’t work.”