Chapter 2

At this moment, threatened by my mom, the delivering doctor was furious. But seeing that she was determined, he had no choice but to continue working while suppressing his anger.

This time, however, I resisted with all my might, absolutely refusing to be born first.

"It's a difficult delivery!"

"It's a difficult delivery!"

"Patient's family, we recommend switching to a C-section. Please sign the consent form immediately."

"No way! Babies born by C-section are stupid. We can't do that. It must be a natural birth."

This shrill voice was my grandmother. If my mom was the executioner, she was the one handing her the knife. The two of them often worked in tandem, making my dad too afraid to speak up.

So my mom endured the pain, risking severe bleeding to deliver me and my sister naturally.

Of course, she no longer had the energy to falsely accuse the doctor of harassment.

This time, neither of us was the "lucky baby." We started on equal footing from birth.

But I still weighed three ounces more than my sister.

"Mom, go buy ten more scales. I don't believe this. They're twins, how can they have different weights?"

My mom frowned, her voice agitated after weighing me and my sister eight times.

Grandma, who was domineering outside but a docile old baby in front of my mom, immediately went to do as she was told.

Unfortunately, my sister's and my weights were different on every single scale.

My mom broke down, pointing at me impatiently.

"Take her away. She must have been greedy and strong-willed, stealing nutrition from her sister in my womb."

"Starve her for a few meals. That'll teach her."

In my previous life, this was where the hidden danger of my stomach problems began. Living again, I was determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

But crying in front of my mom had no effect; it only made her more annoyed.

So I deliberately waited until four in the afternoon, when my dad came home, and started wailing at the top of my lungs.

The sound was as heart-wrenching as possible, scaring my dad so much that he ran in without even changing his shoes.

Just as my throat was about to break from screaming, my dad finally found me in the washing machine drum.

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