Male Tsundere

I was holding my wife as we slept when her phone suddenly gave a special alert tone. “Rachel, my whole body hurts. Please help me…” The message was from Daniel. He sounded entitled, and he even attached a photo of his abs. My wife pushed me away at once. “Wait for me. I will head over right away.” I could not hold back my anger. “Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night, and you are going to see him? He’s your brother-in-law. Can’t you keep a bit of distance? “Your sister has been dead for half a year. Do you have to take care of him like this forever?” Rachel suddenly raised her hand and slapped me. “Sam, he has post-traumatic stress disorder. You already know that. I am his psychologist, so what is wrong with helping him? Why are your thoughts so filthy? “Forget it. I can’t talk sense into someone like you. Stay home and reflect on yourself.” After saying that, she did not look at me again. We had been married for five years. Every time we argued, she would walk away and give me the cold shoulder. She knew how much I loved her, so she hurt me without restraint. She was certain that I would ultimately give in and try to make peace. However, this time, I did not try to salvage the situation anymore. My heart was dead. I did not want her anymore.

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.

Samantha Sonnet, my wife who's also a hospital dean, decides to replace my name with Nicholas Spark, the intern's name on the surgical atlas that I've spent the last three years drafting without my permission. That atlas is then published. I burn the only original draft of the atlas in front of the entire department. Samantha blames me for being brash. "He's just leaving his name there so that he can ensure a smoother project closeout." After dusting the ashes away, I reply, "My academic achievements will always be mine. Since someone else's name is printed on my achievements, that means they are no longer pure." Later at midnight, Samantha hands me a glass of warm milk in an attempt to apologize to me. When I regain consciousness once again, I've already gotten strapped to a surgical table beneath a huge spotlight. I see a scalpel glinting coldly right above me. "You're a man of purity, right?" Samantha murmurs into my ear. "Three people's blood will be coursing through your veins soon enough. You'll be impure soon enough!" At the moment, Samantha is livestreaming an illegal organ removal surgery. As I stare at the camera hovering above my head, I say coldly, "If you've recorded enough evidence, then it's time to turn off the camera! Tell Captain Hardy that I've gotten my hands on the evidence he wants!"

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

It was my girlfriend's birthday. I took her to my family's newly opened restaurant for dinner. Since we were planning to have cake later, the two of us ordered a single set meal that included a pizza and a plate of pasta. Smiling, I handed the menu to the waiter. He took it with a fake smile. I heard him calling us paupers under his breath. I frowned. "What did you just say?" The waiter froze for a second. He then put on another fake smile. "I said I'll have your order ready shortly." I snorted and replied fluently in the same language he'd used. "You just called us paupers."

After the car accident, I was gravely injured. I begged my wife, Susie Rogers, to take me to the hospital. Instead, her face darkened, and she ordered someone to lock me inside a sauna heated to 180 degrees. The reason was simple: her brother-in-law, Chester Tucker, was scheduled for an appendectomy that day. To make sure I would not undergo surgery at the same time as him, she had me injected with a hundred coagulant shots. No matter how desperately I pleaded for her to save me, she remained unmoved. Ninety-nine needles pierced my body, each one intensifying the agony of my already severe injuries. The hundredth injection, she administered herself. Looking down at me in my misery, she said calmly, "Chester has had a hard enough life since losing his wife. As his sister-in-law, I'm only looking out for him. You weren't satisfied with driving him overseas; now you even staged a car accident to get surgery before him? "It seems I've spoiled you too much. That's why you dare to pull something like this. "The doctor said that with the injections and the high heat, your pain and bleeding would be controlled. Once Chester's surgery is done, you can have yours." In that moment, my heart turned to ash. When Chester's operation succeeded, Susie burst into tears of relief and even set off celebratory fireworks to mark his 'new beginning.' Later, as she watched him leave the hospital fully recovered, she finally remembered me and ordered someone to take me there. However, before they could, her assistant called. "The hospital has asked you to come and claim Mr. Lynch's…body."

I had been on a business trip overseas for less than six months when I suddenly received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Jones, your wife is having a difficult labor. Should we proceed with a C-section or try to continue with a natural delivery?" The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I stood there, frozen. When I left, my wife had not shown any sign of pregnancy. How could she be giving birth less than six months later? I quickly dialed her number. The moment the call connected, I heard her cries of pain. "Honey, what's wrong?" From the other end of the line, I could hear a nurse urging her to push harder. However, my wife forced her voice to sound calm. "Sweetheart, I just slipped and fell a moment ago. It's nothing serious. You should keep focusing on your business trip. Don't worry about me." As I listened, the faint sound of a baby crying filtered through the phone. My grip tightened so hard around the phone that it nearly cracked. "Is that so? Then, get some rest," I said calmly. After hanging up, I immediately called my father, the richest man in the country. "Dad, Rebecca's cheating on me. She's in the delivery room right now, having another man's child. Stop all investments in the Harris family immediately. I want her thrown out with nothing to her name."

I am not my parents' biological son. When they find their son and bring him back, he looks skinny and malnourished. My parents feel sorry for him, so they offer him compensation. But Kenneth Lawson says, "I am your son. If you are going to compensate me, then give me the company." My family persuades me by saying, "You are not related by blood after all. You should return the position to him." With a smile, I hand everything over to him. The next day, the company's biggest client, core technical team, and all distributors announce that they will only work with me. My parents panic and rush to beg me. I fold my arms and say, "Tell your biological son to come and beg me—the employee—to go back."

I worked overtime until the early morning hours and called my driver to pick me up. She frowned the entire ride. "You go home so late every night, and you always have me pick you up. You have no consideration for others." I found her comment baffling. "Wasn't all of this made clear when I hired you? The job requires you to be available at all times, and your salary is generous." "What exactly are you trying to say?" Chloe Morrison's tone turned reproachful and condescending. "I'm concerned about you, obviously. What good man goes home at dawn every day? You're probably fooling around outside. A man should conduct himself properly. You should get off work earlier and go home to do housework and cook. That's how you win a girl over." Her words irritated me, and my tone turned sharp. "Ms. Morrison, you're just a driver. You're not anyone to me. Don't overstep."

My cousin, Tiffany Wilkinson, brought her new boyfriend, Isaac Lloyd, home for the first time. The dinner was going great, chatting and laughing like everything was perfect. Out of nowhere, Isaac locked eyes on me, his face lighting up with fake surprise as he practically shouted, "Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? Aren't you in that 'Elite Escort Group'?" He added, "I swear I saw your rate card in the group photos... It was only 200 dollars or something?" He slapped a hand over his mouth afterward, putting on this innocent act like he had just let something slip. The lively dining room went dead silent in an instant. My relatives' looks turned cold and judgmental, making me utterly uncomfortable all over. "He looks so decent on the outside, but he's actually doing that kind of thing behind closed doors." "You're such a disgrace to the Wilkinson family. Don't even tell people you're related to us from now on." Dad was so furious he slammed his wine glass down, and Mom sat there wiping away tears. I calmly dabbed my mouth with my napkin, then looked at Isaac with a knowing smirk. "Makes sense that I look familiar. I'm with the Vice Squad, and I just busted you in a sting operation last month!"