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I was a princess until my sister arrived. Before I turned five, my parents lavished me with a home, braved storms to fetch cake, and filled albums with my smiles. After my sister’s birth, a small act of kindness—lowering the air conditioner one degree to keep her cool—became my crime. My mother slapped me, locked me in the refrigerator, and left without unlocking it. At five, I couldn’t escape and felt utterly forgotten. A neighbor finally broke the door and freed me. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed in tears when I returned, begging for forgiveness I didn’t know how to receive.