I Want To Eat Your Pancreas 소설 & 이야기

"Will you merely have green salad and juice, my beloved wife?" "Yes, I'm not starving," I responded while savoring a drink. The scrambled eggs on his plate make my mouth water, but I now need to reduce weight. After all, he has called me obese and made fun of me. I was completely helpless when I saw the pancakes that were kept on the table. May I eat a pancake? You can't do that right now since my subconscious forbids me from even glancing at the pancake. Yet why? If I eat a pancake, what will happen?

Attempting to regain composure, I took deep breaths, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, trying to steady my racing heart. But as I drizzled maple syrup over my pancakes, I couldn't help but feel torn between my physical cravings and the gravity of our current situation. Chase's playful actions only added to the dilemma, and I couldn't deny the allure of both his intimate touch and the delicious chocolate-chip pancakes before me. The sight of the syrup cascading over the sweet confection was enough to tempt anyone's senses.

I guess it depends on how fast I can run. As I tremble with fury, that I'm sure he can feel, he begins his meal as if it's normal. Shit, maybe it is for him. I'm sure he's done this to many unwilling women. I look down at the plate ­— pancakes, eggs, and bacon. It's smells so delicious, so tempting, but I refuse to ask this asshole for anything. I'd rather starve! "You're a stubborn one," Diego grumbles, "I know you're hungry, I can hear your stomach growling. Eat."

He don't even deserve forgiveness. Aroon looked at the pieces of sliced banana. What is the point in making pancake now ? He don't feel like eating Pancake. But he was feeling hungry. He didn't have dinner last night. So he started eating the pieces of sliced banana, one by one while wiping the tears that still continued to slither down his cheeks, involuntarily.

Just like in my previous life, the diagnosis was the same: acute pancreatitis caused by overeating. The doctor studied my chart in astonishment. "You're so thin. How could you possibly eat this much?" I said nothing. I signed for discharge immediately and headed straight for Tina's place. The moment the door opened, I pressed a kitchen knife to her throat. "Shirley, what are you doing? Calm down!" she stammered. I glared at her, my patience gone. "I'm not here to waste words. Tell me the truth. Why is it that you eat, but I'm the one who suffers?"

"There's no treatment of this level in Oskia! And usually, the only option is to remove the pancreas entirely—since when is it possible to keep the pancreas and treat it completely?!" Then, he turned to the technician, "Quick! Show us the patient's previous scan for comparison!"

she smiled. “Your favorite place, Mr. Pancake,” I winked, and she made a silly, happy dance. Mr. Pancake was a place where you overindulge in carbohydrates: pancakes, waffles, and syrup. Some other toppings that tried to pass as healthy, but failed, like hazelnut cream or strawberry jam. A place that was too sweet for me, but that my mate loved with every fiber in her body. I upset her, and fixed it by having a beautiful, long make-up sex session. Now, I need to fuel her up, so we can endure the visit to the vampire realm. She ordered an insane amount of food, and I chuckled. I haven´t seen her eat this much since she was pregnant with the twins. “Did I tire you this much, or are you pregnan

Unable to maintain his usual composure anymore, he broke down in tears. "It's not my fault! It was the folk healer who said that if Miriam took the pill, she would come back to life—that she'd wake up for sure!" The doctor coldly cut him off. "That explains it. That poison was laced with a special stimulant. It can temporarily restore mobility, but the toxins would eat away at the flesh." He pointed at Miriam, who was groaning in agony. "It starts from the arm, gradually spreading upward to the chest, then the lower abdomen. Eventually, the entire body rots into decayed flesh, leading to organ failure and death."

We could run around the block if you prefer not to use the treadmill. I held up a hand, a universal sign for halt. ‘What, five a.m.? Are you a sadist? No, thank you.’ I turned my attention back to demolishing the small, perfect mountain of pancakes. The syrup was real maple, the butter was French, and the guilt was starting to creep in. Here I was, shovelling down culinary sin while he nibbled on what looked like dehydrated beige cardboard. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of my own eating habits. Did I look like a greedy pig? Was there syrup on my chin? Had I eaten one slice of bacon too many?

she argued I groaned out loud. "Yeah and diabetes mellitus looks like a good way to leave this world." I give her plate another quizzical look as I watched her horrified as she cut a piece of the monstrosity that she had concocted and put it into her mouth"and you add bacon?” She hummed around her mouthful. “Hmmm. This is Perfect.” Annalisa chuckled as she cut into her breakfast. “Not a huge fan of syrup big brother?” Annalisa asked me with an arched brow.