Where Do I Belong Book Novels & Stories

“But everyone hates me. My classmates treat me like trash. They say I don’t deserve to be a doctor because I’m an omega.” “Who said that?” I lowered my head. “Everyone knows. They’re all from big families. I’m just the child of a cast-out wolf. They’re right, I don’t belong here.” Suddenly, Liam stood. He walked over and stopped right in front of the sofa. My heart nearly exploded as I looked up at him. He took the anatomy book from my hands and closed it slowly. “Listen carefully. Never say you don’t belong. You got here on your own effort, not by anyone’s pity. And anyone who dares to belittle you will answer to me,” Liam said.

“And what about here, Bianca? You think she’ll be safe here? She watched your parents get killed, the further she gets from Sicily, the better it will be for her. The faster she will heal.” Enzo’s words hang in the air like a loaded gun and Bianca doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. Because deep down, they both know the truth. I don’t belong in London. I don’t belong in Sicily, the island that took my parents. I pull the sleeves of the hoodie tighter, the feeling of not belonging anywhere suffocating me. Before they can see me, I slip down another hallway, heart splintering. I don’t want to hear them talk about me like I’m some problem they don’t know how to solve.

We turn back toward the settlement. The morning fully arrived now. The sounds of the community moving into its day. I walk through it and feel something I don't immediately have a name for: not belonging, not yet, but the specific possibility of belonging. The sense that a place could receive you if you came back enough times in the right spirit. The door that isn't closed—that's enough for now; that's more than enough. We spend the second day properly.

“This pack is yours too, Esme. You belong here. You have a place.” I flinch again. Belonging… it’s a foreign word. Something I have tasted only in fragments in dreams I did not let myself fully remember. But here, now, it pulses inside me as tangibly as the warmth radiating from Zenith. I let myself breathe a little deeper, let the tiniest fraction of trust slip through.

"No, it's not. People like us? Who aren't sure where we fit? We fit together. We're the outlaws, the outliers, the rebels without a cause. Only we do have a cause. To figure out where the fuck we belong." "I don't belong anywhere," I argue, fully believing what I'm telling him. There's a rambling spirit inside me, one that wants to explore everything, see where I truly feel at home. A devilish smile spreads across his face, the same type of smile that got him into my panties the first time. "You do, you belong with me." "I don't, Wild. I really don't." I shake my head, breathing in the cold air, hoping it settles the raging sea of my stomach and heart. Last night, I did feel a peace with him

" Camilly , go up to your room now!" "Dad, he hit me and you're not going to do anything?" How can you let a stranger into our house and do this, what right do you have to let him hit me without doing anything? I didn't know I had such a cowardly father. — Your father no longer has power over you, remember that you belong to me and I will not accept disobedience, do as he ordered and go up. “I'll never belong to you, even if I have to end my life to do that.

“I finally started believing I belonged somewhere.” My voice shakes. “And now I’m wondering if I was wrong.” Darius feels the weight of those words. Because he knows exactly what it means to make someone feel unwanted. He tells me: “You belong, Liora.” I look at him. Observe him for a moment. “You don’t get to decide that.” He immediately nods. “You’re right.” A pause. “Then let me say something else.” His voice lowers. “You deserve to belong.” The difference between the two sentences affects me.

Below her, the circle of rogues gathered, shifting uneasily, unsure of what came next. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “When I was young,” she said, “I thought the only way to belong was to be small. To stay quiet. To be what others expected. But I learned that belonging doesn’t come from silence. It comes from showing up. From standing beside each other when it’s hard. From building something no one can take away.” She let her gaze move across the crowd. Some she knew by name. Others are only by the wear in their eyes.

“That part you inherited from me.” I almost laughed. Almost. We stood in silence for a while. Then I asked quietly, “Did you ever feel like you didn’t belong?” Her gaze didn’t leave the portrait. “Every day,” she said. That surprised me. She continued. “Belonging rarely arrives before certainty. More often, it is built in the very places that make you question yourself.” I frowned slightly. “That sounds exhausting.” “It is.” That honesty hit differently than comfort ever could. Later, I found myself alone again on the balcony.

"This was my favorite when I was younger." "Then it's yours now," he said simply. I clutched the book to my chest. "Thank you." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "Bella, you don't have to thank us for every little thing. This is your home. Everything in it is as much yours as it is ours." The casual declaration made my throat tight. "I'm not used to that. To belonging somewhere." "Get used to it," he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Because you're not going anywhere."