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The bastard who killed me was my husband.
I couldn’t believe what happened.
It was probably around the age of three that my life began to flow differently from others.
My parents were always busy and sorry about it. However, one day they accompany me to amusement park even with such busy schedules.
That was probably the day my life changed.
It was a vague childhood memory, but I definitely remember it.
There was a big accident that caused our car to roll over.
That day, Dad and Mom left for heaven. And I got hurt so badly that I couldn’t wake up for a month.
My mom, who was riding in the back seat, protected me at the moment of the accident, and because of that, I was able to live. When I woke up, father and mother were already dead, there was no one next to me.
I remember this story because my grandmother told me, or I wouldn’t have remembered how exactly I would have survived. That’s how I was said to have come back to life.
After that day, it was my grandmother who raised me, a child who was left alone in the world. She was a good person, although she was sometimes mean.
Instead of telling people to live without harming others, she taught me that I should overcome anyone who bothers me and that I should take care of my own rights and not tolerate unfair treatment.
She said a lot of harsh things and had a lot of pinzans, but she was a so-called tsundere who was grumpy but caring.
When I was twenty years old, my grandmother handed me an bank account containing the insurance money from my parents.
I cried at the money that had been asleep for 17 years. She also said, “It will make you feel better when you get a job after graduating from college.”
But when I turned 20, grandmother soon returned back to the world.
All I had left was loneliness that I couldn’t afford, insurance money and home left by my parents.
I was not poor at all, I was young, and I could live without any shortage. Bacause my grandmother told me to go to college, I enjoyed my college life alone there.
But I always felt I was an outsider.
Is there anyone who can heal my wounds?
My boyfriend was the only one who understood and cared for me when I was so lonely.
I got married only six months after dating my boyfriend. I don’t even know if he’s really in love with me.
There was a reason in its own way. As I was old, I thought I would take good care of him, and there were expectations that there would be a fence for my family in a world where I was short of blood.
I’ll be the only one in the world who has nothing on my side. There was also a belief in him who spoke.
But he didn’t have anything.
To what extent, I started my honeymoon in the house my late parents left me because I had no money to get a newlywed house, and I had to cover all our couple’s living expenses and my college tuition because he was unemployed.
The most terrible thing in such a situation was my mother-in-law, who criticized me for being a child without parents.
Because I grew up without my mom, I tried my best at first. But the more I tried to do well, the more my mother-in-law began to bully me.
On his first birthday after marriage, he even threw down the table he had prepared without taking a sip.
The reason was that he cooked seaweed soup with clams, not beef seaweed soup, when he had seashell allergies.
The person who used to eat shellfish very well.
The most terrible thing about it was that she thought his son was going to be a big man, but he met me and I ruined him.
By the way, at the age of thirty-five, I said nothing. I was out of my mind when I got married to a man who was penniless and nothing to show off.
But it didn’t matter then.
Because I thought I was happy.
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