

My parents once treated me like a princess, buying me a lavish home, braving the rain to get me cake, and filling albums with my smiles before I turned five.After my sister was born, I lowered the air conditioner by just one degree to keep her cool, only for my mother to slap me and lock me in the refrigerator, saying, "Stay in there until you've learned your lesson." They forgot to unlock the lock, but at five years old, I couldn't escape, just as I couldn't escape being forgotten. It was our neighbor who broke down the door to save me. My parents thought I had died, and when they saw me return, they broke down in tears, begging for forgiveness.

I’ve always felt like Travis Chancer was forced to marry me. Every time we were intimate at night, he’d rather use his hand to get me off than actually have sex with me. I got more and more disappointed and decided to divorce him. But the night before I printed the papers, I heard him on the balcony talking to his buddies. “Bro, I’m not trying to be nosy, but you’re obviously dying for it. Why won’t you touch her? The perfect woman is right there. It must feel amazing.” “Women can’t stand being ignored. If you keep bottling it up, she’ll eventually run off with another man, and you’ll regret it.” He took a quiet sip of whiskey. “But her skin is so delicate, and her waist is so slim… she’s so sensitive. What if I lose control and scare her? “She’s my woman. I have to be careful. If she wants to find comfort elsewhere, she can. As long as she’s still willing to come home, I’ll keep spoiling her.” They snorted. “Don’t act like a saint, man. If you’ve got the guts, stop secretly posting on Reddit.” Late that night, I quietly opened Travis’s browser history. A full hundred entries. The pinned post read: “I finally married the girl I’ve loved for years, but I have a very high sex drive. How can I make her enjoy it without leaving psychological scars?”…