Summary

Nyla Carter spent her entire life trying to understand what love was supposed to feel like. She grew up believing her grandparents were her parents, never questioning why the woman she thought was her sister only appeared every once in a while. She was a happy little girl who loved old R&B, books, and the people she called family-until growing up forced her to learn that some truths are better hidden, and some wounds don't disappear just because you don't understand them yet. Then there was Kai. The loud, reckless boy from down the street who somehow went from being the boy Nyla couldn't stand to the boy she couldn't imagine living without. He became part of her family, her first kiss, her first love, and eventually the person who taught her that loving someone doesn't always mean they know how to love you back. Between friendships that came with hidden agendas, family members who loved her in complicated ways, mistakes that nearly changed the course of her life, and a past she was never supposed to uncover, Nyla spends years searching for somewhere-and someone-she can finally feel safe with. But growing up means realizing that sometimes the people you call home are the very people you're meant to outgrow. And when Nyla becomes a mother herself, she has one question left to answer: What kind of home will she give her daughter? Because maybe home was never a person. Maybe it was something she had to learn to build for herself. **Everybody I Called Home** is a story about first love, family, friendship, betrayal, motherhood, growing up, and learning that loving someone doesn't mean losing yourself.

Genre: Young Adult

Author: MoniLove18

Status: Ongoing

Chapters: 10

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 16+

Chapter 1

I’ve always thought home was a person.

Maybe that’s where I went wrong.

When you’re little, nobody sits you down and explains what love is supposed to look like. You just watch.

You watch the people around you love each other. You watch them argue. You watch them forgive. You watch them leave and come back. You watch people sayI love youand still hurt each other five minutes later.

And eventually, you start calling whatever you’re used tonormal.

I used to think home was wherever the people I loved were.

It didn’t matter if I felt uncomfortable there.

It didn’t matter if I cried there.

It didn’t matter if I had to shrink parts of myself to stay there.

If I loved you, you were home.

And if you were home, I thought I was supposed to stay.

I spent years giving pieces of myself away to people who didn’t always know what to do with them. I confused being needed with being loved. I confused familiarity with safety. I confused staying with loyalty.

I didn’t know any better.

Maybe that’s the saddest part.

Nobody teaches you that some people can love you and still hurt you.

Nobody teaches you that blood doesn’t automatically make a person safe.

Nobody teaches you that your first love might not be your forever love.

Nobody teaches you that friendships can end without either person being a monster.

And nobody tells you how terrifying it is to become the kind of person who finally chooses herself.

I learned most of that the hard way.

So if you’re going to read my story, don’t ask me why I stayed.

Ask yourself what you would’ve called home if you were me.

Because everybody I loved became a place I thought I belonged.

And it took me a long time to realize...