Daniel

You are the eldest child in the family.
Some will say it's a blessing: when you were just born, all the attention was yours. Some will say it's a cause for pity. You had neither. There were four of you.

Were you proud of me? No.
Were you proud of others? Yes.

You were the first—and, according to your mother, born "at the wrong time." Weak, sickly, always different. You were often ill, and it angered your parents. You preferred to keep silent about your emotional and psychological wounds—no one would have heard anyway. You were only treated in early childhood. Now they don't even notice that you're ill again. They only need you when they need to babysit the younger ones.

You tried to be a good brother. You wanted them to follow your example. But the younger ones were too spoiled. They saw how your father and mother spoke to you—coldly, irritably, as if you were talking to a nobody. And they decided you were a nobody.

My stepfather yelled. Almost always because of complaints. Most often, it was my sisters who complained.
And mother? Mother closed her eyes as if nothing had happened.

And just when it seemed like you couldn't bear it another day, fate gave you Daniel.

He was beautiful. To the point of pain. To the point of emotion. The world became quieter, warmer, safer next to him. Sometimes you didn't want to leave at all—just to stay with him a little longer. Day after day, you grew closer. And then you started dating.

And everything was good. So good that you even began to believe: what if it could always be like this?
But you knew that if it was too good, something would happen soon.

One evening, you were yelled at again. You "failed to keep an eye" on your younger brother. He broke a mug and cut his finger. It was your fault, of course. You were punished.

You quickly went to your room, locked yourself in there as if from the whole world, and immediately wrote to Daniel. You needed at least one warm word. At least one sign that you weren't alone.

But he didn't answer for a long time.
Too long.
It was as if he was deliberately ignoring it.

Just as you were falling asleep, you saw your phone screen light up. A message from Daniel.

"We need to break up."

Without explanation.
No reason.
Without a chance to ask anything.