On my graduation day, excitement turned to heartbreak when my parents didn’t show up. The ceremony ended, and my calls home went unanswered. Driving back, dread filled me.

At home, a note explained everything: Miles, my troubled younger brother, had a seizure, and my parents rushed to the hospital. The pattern of their neglect resurfaced, leaving me overshadowed once more.

At the hospital, I found Miles pale but alert. My parents explained their absence, but something felt off. When I confronted Miles, he admitted to faking the seizure for attention. My parents were stunned, but my anger overflowed. I reminded them of all the times they’d chosen Miles over me, including today.

Back home, I confronted my parents. “You always choose him,” I said, voice trembling. “Even today, you missed my graduation.”

“Julia, he needs us,” Mom said, but I couldn’t accept it anymore.

Leaving the house, I stayed with my friend Natalie, who helped me process the betrayal. Two months later, a scholarship letter arrived, offering a fresh start. I decided to move into the dorms for college.

Returning home briefly, I told my parents I was leaving. “I need to prioritize my happiness,” I said. They tried to understand, but their loyalty to Miles remained firm.

At college, I unpacked with a mix of sadness and resolve. Walking away was hard, but I knew I deserved to thrive. Looking out at the bustling campus, I felt hopeful. It was time to live for myself and embrace a future where I could finally shine.