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I'm Done Waiting for Love 全話一覧
031
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
032
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
033
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
034
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
035
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
036
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
037
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
038
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
039
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.
040
Until my fifth birthday my parents treated me like a princess: a lavish house, cakes in the rain, photo albums filled with my smiles. Then my sister was born and everything shifted. I lowered the air conditioner by a single degree to keep her cool. My mother slapped me and shut me in the refrigerator, snapping, 'Stay in there until you've learned your lesson.' They locked the door and forgot me. A five-year-old, trapped and terrified, I felt erased. Hours later our neighbor finally smashed the door and pulled me out. My parents, convinced I had died, collapsed into tears when I returned, begging forgiveness. The memory of being forgotten turns their apology into a wound that won't heal.