When I was fourteen years old, I became a guest at my parents' house.
My parents' house in the city is spacious and bright, with a toilet that flushes automatically, a clean and separate bedroom, and there is no smell of greasy food on the desk.
I sat timidly on the corner of the sofa and watched my father teach my younger sister, who had been raised by his side since childhood, to read.
My mother told me with her six-month-old belly that she loved me as much as her sister.
When I was twenty-four, my fiancé cheated on me and I caught him on the spot.
I cried and went home to tell my mother, who comforted me impatiently, "Men are just new to things for a while, don't be too willful."
When my sister cried to her mother that her boyfriend was becoming less and less interested in her.
The mother was furious, hugged her sister into her arms distressedly, and choked with sobs, "You have been wronged."
I was stunned.
Mom, why does my sister feel wronged when she cries, and I feel willful when I cry?
Intention: Continuous self-improvement