Deadpan Expression Anime Novels & Stories

Stephanie Ford has given her heart and everything else to Tyler Grover throughout their five-year relationship, only to find out that he has already married his first love, Kiara Grover, on their wedding night. The fake marriage certificate that Stephanie holds is proof that she's stuck in an elaborate scheme that Tyler and Kiara have come up with. This realization leaves her heartbroken and her trust in Tyler permanently shattered. Throughout the past five years, she's gone through a car accident that's apparently staged by others, which has ruined her dreams of becoming a professional dancer. To make things worse, Tyler and Kiara intend to use her as a surrogate mother for their child. Hence, Stephanie decides to go home and enter into a business marriage that her family has arranged for. The next time they meet again, Tyler watches as the cold and aloof heir to the powerful Hawke family of Jetterpolis, Adrian Hawke, pulls Stephanie carefully into his arms. He treats her with utmost care, as though she's the most precious treasure in the world. Tyler's eyes redden instantly. He sinks down to his knees like a madman and begins begging Stephanie for her forgiveness. "Steph, this is all my fault! Please come back to me!" But Adrian shields Stephanie from Tyler, his expression now glacial. "Get lost! Don't you dare taint my wife's sight with your filthy presence!"

A young psychologist, Maria Reyes, fresh out of college, decides to take her first freelance case to build her résumé. Feeling bold and free on her graduation night, she let herself loose after getting charmed by an alluring mysterious man. One drink leads to another and another, and she finds herself drowning in passion in his bed. She reads him like a map and falls for his scars before she even asks for his name. But the morning brings the brutal truth, Darian Wolfe is her father's enemy, a ruthless businessman, an heir to the empire sworn to destroy her father's legacy. She vanishes before he wakes, unable to face what has been done. Weeks later after being able to set up her new office, the past begins to blur until her first patient walks through the door. It's him, Darian Wolfe. Her expression freezes when she sees him. He walks around her office uninvited. He takes a seat without a word. The silence between them is thick with everything unsaid. And then, he looks unblinking in her eyes. "I have a lot to... unpack, Dr Reyes," he says, with a dark smile. "Let's start with a woman I met two weeks ago at a bar," he says, pulling out a red panty from his pocket.

Sean Benson and I have been betrothed since we were kids. But the older we grow, the further he stays away from me. On the day of our engagement banquet, he's found to be making out with Selena White, the heiress of the White family, backstage. This time, I no longer break down in tears. Instead, I just close the door properly for them before returning to the banquet hall silently. After that, I rip the pregnancy report that's pressed beneath a gift box into shreds. On our wedding day, all the guests are all smiles. Sean, however, is the only exception. He maintains a stormy expression the whole time, seemingly not wanting to marry me at all. I know that if it's not the fact that he gets to secure the position as the Benson heir, he will never make any wedding vows with me in the church. But no one expects me not to show up at all, even though the wedding ceremony is already starting. Sean calls me on the phone impatiently afterward. "Where the hell are you? If you don't show up soon, I'm going to cancel the wedding right away!" I merely chuckle softly without saying anything. Then, I throw my phone aside and accept the wedding bouquet that's passed to me. What Sean doesn't know is that my unborn child will be calling another man "daddy" soon.

I accidentally saw a notification pop up on my husband’s phone saying that an automatic transfer had been completed when I was using it for navigation. Immediately after that, his ex-girlfriend, Wanda Blake, sent him a message on WhatsApp: [I’ve received this month’s 10,000 dollars for child support. Thank you, Koah. I don't know what I would have done without you.] I froze. “Child support? “Koah, you told me that the money you send every month was for medical expenses for your mother’s treatment!” Koah Quinn’s expression stiffened as he explained, “Honey, don’t misunderstand. I just felt that life has become really hard for her because she’s a woman raising a child on her own. Her ex-husband refuses to pay child support, so I wanted to help her out…” I touched the old watch on my wrist. The one I had not replaced in years to save money, and felt extremely disappointed. “Your monthly salary is only 6,000 dollars. Where did you get so much money to send her?” He was silent for some time before finally admitting. “I used the money we had set aside for the new house’s downpayment.” I was stunned. He had taken the money my parents had scrimped and saved for decades for me as downpayment for a home and then transferred it to his ex-girlfriend as child support.

The day before our wedding, my fiancé invites our family onto a cruise ship. He says he wants to test the authenticity of my feelings for him. He shoves my mother off the ship when the waves are at their choppiest. Then, he jumps into the water, too. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I panic, not knowing what to do. My mother had already choked on a lot of water, but she pushed me away weakly. She cried, "Save Adrian first! He can't swim!" However, after I drag Adrian Lawson onto land and go back for my mother, I find that she's already stopped breathing. Adrian watches me cry, his expression frosty. "Drop the act. Your mother was a swimmer when she was younger—how can she be dead? I can't believe you didn't save me first. "Vi is right—you don't love me enough. Our wedding is postponed. It'll happen only after you've reflected on your mistakes and I've received an apology from you and your mother." After that, he leaves while holding Vivian Sinclair's hand. He doesn't know that my mother can no longer swim after a major illness a few years back. He's shoved her to her death.

When we try to get our marriage registered for the 18th time, Derek Hubbard has forgotten to bring his ID again. The thing is, I reminded him to bring his ID three times last night. He told me, "Got it. This time, I'm definitely marrying you. There won't be a problem throughout the registration." But as soon as we arrive at the city hall, Derek searches through his pockets. In the end, he calls Lessie Davenport with a frown. "Lessie, did I leave my ID with you?" As I sit in the waiting area, I suddenly let out a soft chuckle. Half an hour later, Lessie arrives at the city hall. She hands the ID over to Derek with red-rimmed eyes. "My stomach hurts a lot, Derek…" Derek's expression changes drastically. He quickly supports her and steers her toward the exit. "Wait for me here, Celine. I'll be back soon." I nod in response while watching Derek walk away from me, just like how he did for the past 17 times. When Derek's silhouette disappears, I dig out my phone and send a text message to someone else. "Are you here yet?" Three minutes later, a man walks into the city hall. He hands both of our IDs through the hole in the counter. "Hi, we're here to register our marriage."

On the Memorial Day weekend, Mason Hayes, the student my wife, Abigail Sullivan, had been sponsoring, insisted on riding with me back to his hometown. My car was small, the drive was long, and the trunk was already packed. There was no way to fit another adult, so I turned him down as politely as I could. That night, Abigail came home and stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying, "He ended up walking along the highway. His feet were torn up." I frowned, trying to make sense of it. "It's a holiday weekend. There are Ubers everywhere. He could've booked one in minutes." She nodded softly, the same gentle expression she always wore, and poured me a glass of water. I drank it. The next thing I knew, everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing under a brutal midday sun on an empty stretch of highway. Abigail leaned into Mason's shoulder, holding her phone up as she livestreamed. There was a faint smile on her lips, but there was nothing warm about it. "You said getting around was easy, right? Why don't you try walking home yourself?" The livestream was packed. The chat flooded with messages, people placing bets on how far I would make it. I looked straight into the camera, ran my tongue over my cracked lips, and said, "Done enjoying the show? Now come and pick me up."

When Seth Gibson told me his legs were crippled and that only snowmelt from a mountain's peak could cure him, I did not hesitate. I scaled the mountainside, climbing over 15,000 feet just to get some snow for him. When I staggered back, bruised and scratched, cradling the snow outside the hospital room, I overheard cruel voices down the corridor. "Seth, today's the deadline. Nevaeh still isn't back. Could she have died up there?" "I heard that the mountain's pretty high. She might have gotten altitude sickness. What a shame! She's already risked herself for Seth ninety-nine times. This was supposed to be the last time before the game ended." "Serves her right! She used to bully Janice, Seth's childhood friend, didn't she?" I saw Seth through the crack in the door. He was standing at the window, his legs perfectly intact, and his expression ice-cold. "Enough," he said flatly. "If she dies, the game ends." I froze in disbelief until it finally sank in. Seth had been pretending all along. A laugh nearly escaped me. What a relief! I could finally get rid of this weight on my shoulders. I pulled out my phone and called his uncle. "I'll marry you," I said.

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.