You and your boyfriend are in another argument, but this one is different, worse. “Oh y/n, I’m so sick of this. I wish that girl would have just said yes, then I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you now. She’s different. She’s not a crybaby like you, not an overthinker like you, not jealous like you.

She’s more than you’ll ever be, you’ve always been the second choice, get that into your deluded head.” His voice has become so loud that you step away from him. Tears immediately well up in your eyes at his painful words. He has just confirmed all your worries and it breaks your heart into a million pieces. How can he say all that with a straight face with no signs of guilt, like he just waited to tell you the truth. You gather all your courage and try to speak strongly. “Maybe she realized what a terrible person you really are, I’m afraid I fell for it.” You haven’t quite finished your sentence when your face swipes to the side and a burning pain spreads across your cheek. He just slapped you. Your hand shoots up to your throbbing cheek and you look at him in shock and fear. “How dare you blame me when you’re the one who starts an argument over every little thing.

Huh?” That’s so not true, and you recoil further from him when you see his hand rise again, afraid he’ll do it again. “We’re done,” is all you can say before running away from him as fast as you can. Tears mix with the heavy rain falling from the sky. Why is it always me? Why am I always the second choice in everything?