Male Gems Steven Universe

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

I decide to propose to Rebecca Milton, now that we've been in a relationship for five years. But I end up overhearing her conversation with her childhood friend, Tobias Wright, outside a private room in the clubhouse. "Seriously, Rebecca? Are you still hooked on the idea of pretending to be a poor student? All this just so you can win a bet of wooing Sebastian Grant, the business genius, and making him yours? "The Grants are on the verge of filing for bankruptcy. Heck, Sebastian has also cut ties with his family just so he can be with you. Don't tell me you seriously plan on marrying him!" Every cell in my body freezes upon hearing Tobias' words. Then, I hear Rebecca responding to him flippantly. "Marry him? As if! All I have to do is wait for him to propose to me, then I can expose the truth of the bet to him on the spot! Oh, the expression he's wearing must be amazing!" Tobias chuckles lightly in return. "You are in a five-year relationship with Sebastian at the end of the day. Are you sure you don't have feelings for him?" Rebecca scoffs back. "I was just playing with him, you know? Whoever puts their heart on the line loses this game." Then, she gazes at Tobias tenderly. "Don't you know very well who I'm truly in love with?" It turns out that the girlfriend I'm head over heels for, as well as the relationship that I view as my prized treasure, is nothing but the product of a bet. I call my parents on the spot. "I will go along with the marriage alliance."

My son’s family suddenly returned from abroad. I did not understand a single word at the dinner table. They were speaking in a foreign language. My grandson, Aiden, looked me up and down and said loudly, “Dad, Grandpa’s face is all bumpy and scarred. He’s lame, too. He’s so ugly!” My son waved his hand nonchalantly and said, “That was caused by a shell blast. Anyone who served in the military looks like that.” I did not understand their conversation. I simply placed the fish I had deboned onto his plate in silence. My grandson, however, became agitated. He picked up the hot soup and splashed it on my face. Then he cursed at me in broken English, saying, “Stay away, ugly monster! If it weren’t for you refusing to die, Grandma Sloane and Grandpa Wallace could’ve come home years ago!” My mind went blank. My wife had passed away decades ago. Who was this “Grandpa Wallace”?

On my son, William Lewis' birthday, I secretly visit the learning center he studies at in hopes of giving him a surprise. But when I tell the teacher that I'm Will's father, the latter frowns in response. "You say you're Will's father?" I nod, feeling a little displeased. Although my wife, Amelia Garrett, is the one driving William to and from the learning center, there's absolutely no reason for the teacher to doubt me like this. But suddenly, the teacher smiles brightly at me and tells me he'll bring William with him soon. As I watch him walk through the door, I decide to not take this matter to heart. The next thing I know, the teacher reappears with two burly guys flanking him. "That's the one! He intends to kidnap children from my class!"

My Valenese neighbor dressed like a temptress—curves in all the right places, a delicate body topped with a pair of full, heavy breasts. Her name was Ayame. When she came by that evening to ask my husband to fix her computer, I heard the unmistakable sounds of pleasure drifting from the other room. "Wanna try my new tongue stud? Consider it your payment for the repair." Then came my husband's moans of pure, shameless delight. I couldn't help but feel jealous. It had been so long since he'd sounded that happy with me. As I listened, my hand slid slowly beneath the waistband of my pants. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. I'd heard that Ayame's husband had a full ring of piercings down below. I'd been craving a taste for ages. If Ayame could seduce my husband, then I'd take my own turn sampling those piercings.

I poured my heart and soul into securing a big deal for my wife's law firm. But when I stepped out for a quick coffee break, she fired me on the spot, claiming I'd gone AWOL for too long. "New company rule: ten minutes away from your desk, and you're out. You were gone for ten minutes and five seconds. Now grab your stuff and leave." I sneered and flipped the script, turning over proof of her siphoning funds to buy her intern boy a Maybach to the police. She thought she could burn bridges with me, but this bridge didn't crumble so easily.

Loree Koester got hurt over and over by her dream guy—Harvey Geake—while I dragged her up from nothing to a damn fortune. Ten years later, she stood at my proposal, eyes full of tears, and said yes. Then she ditched our wedding ninety-eight times. Every time, same excuse—Harvey threatening to kill himself. On the ninety-ninth, she didn't even hesitate. Left our friends, our family—hell, left her ring on the floor. "Rowan, just wait a little longer. Two hours. I'll deal with Harvey and come right back." I'd already waited ten years. I wasn't waiting two more hours.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

My wife is the daughter of a top jewelry tycoon. She accused me of pushing her mother down the stairs to steal the family fortune and had me thrown in prison. While I was locked up, her people disfigured my face and crushed my hands—the same hands that once played the piano. After my release, I run from her like a madman. Just like she said I would, I give up and start mooching off a wealthy woman. But then, she clings to me and begs me not to leave.

My wife was a surgeon. She saved plenty of lives in her career. However, the only person she failed to save was me. When I was involved in an accident with her long-time crush, she immediately saved him instead. I had been dead for three months, and that was when she realized the person who had been messaging her during this time was not me and started to panic.