Chapter 1: The Day I Was Left Behind

The day my family left for Hawaii, I woke up early.

I stepped out of my room into a completely empty house.

Just as I was wondering what was going on, a message popped up.

It appeared in our family iMessage group.

From my younger sister, Isabela.

[OMG]

[I totally forgot to tell this group the flight was moved up!]

A second later, the message vanished. Unsent.

I stared at the blank chat screen. My nose stung.

So they had another group.

One without me.

I was still standing there when my mom called.

I'm so sorry, Alejandra.

Our flight got moved up an hour.

We completely forgot to tell you.

If you hurry and get an Uber, you might still make it...

Before she could finish, my brother cut her off from the background.

If she can't make it, let's just go.

Hasn't Isabela always wanted a trip where she's the only kid?

This works out perfectly.

I took a sharp breath, pushing the feelings down.

I'm not coming. Have fun.

After hanging up, I canceled my ticket to Hawaii.

Then I booked one to New York.

My boyfriend, Santiago Pierce, and I had already made plans.

We agreed to spend a few days wandering around New York together.

This was perfect, then.

For the past eighteen years, my family had always preferred my clever, beautiful younger sister.

Only Santiago never seemed to mind that I was just...ordinary.

He was the one person who always stayed by my side.

I was about to text him the good news when his Instagram story popped up.

[Taking my queen to chase the waves.]

The photo was of him and my sister on the plane to Hawaii.

They were shoulder to shoulder, their smiles easy and intimate.

The last flicker of hope in my heart died.

I opened my laptop and changed my college commitment.

I'd promised to attend UCLA with him, but I switched from that school.

I changed it to NYU, all the way on the East Coast.

Then I grabbed my ticket to New York and called a car to LAX. Alone.

No one was going to hold a place for me in their heart.

So I would make a life of my own.

The day I got back from New York, my parents and the others had just returned from Hawaii.

I walked in, and Mom glanced at the empty kitchen.

Her first words were an accusation.

You know how Isabela gets after a long flight.

She can't eat plane food.

Why didn't you have a pizza waiting for her?

You're not acting like a big sister at all.

For a moment, I was speechless.

I was the older sister, yes. By a single hour.

Ever since we were little, my family had expected me to take care of her.

They always wanted me to give way to her.

Any time I fell short, I was the one who was selfish.

But I'd been home for less than ten minutes.

I hadn't even had a chance to put my bags down.

Getting a car from the airport had been a nightmare.

I had even texted the group chat, asking when their flight was landing.

Hoping I could catch a ride with them.

Hours passed. Not a single reply.

In the end, I'd had to stand under the blistering sun.

I waited in the taxi line for two hours before I finally got home.

Just then, my sister touched Mom's arm and mouthed something.

She also gestured to her phone.

Mom froze for a second, then opened the group chat.

Only then did she see the message I'd sent.

A flicker of guilt crossed her face, but her tone was still sharp.

Next time, if it's important, call.

Who has time to stare at group messages all day?

But I knew she hadn't just missed it.

It was because they had another group chat, one created just for Isabela.

A group that didn't include me. A group that belonged only to her.

If I had to guess, that group had existed since middle school.

That was the year I was hit by a cyclist on my way home from school.

I broke my wrist in the accident.

A kind stranger used my phone to message the family group.

Over and over, they tried to reach my parents.

I sent message after message, but no one responded.

In the end, the police made the call.

They contacted the emergency number the school had on file.

Only then did my parents answer and come get me from the hospital.

Meanwhile, my sister rarely posted in that public group chat.

Yet Mom and Dad always knew exactly where she was and what she was doing.

Back then, I couldn't admit they didn't love me, so I pushed the thought away.

Now I understood.

Whether it was that group or this family, I was the one who wasn't needed.

I lowered my head.

Got it.

I said softly.

There won't be a next time.

From now on, I wouldn't bother them again.

I wouldn't waste any more hope.

That love was never meant for me.