Male Yandere Novel Updates

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

Nala mempunyai dua pilihan dari Papa yang akan menentukan hidupnya. Pertama, menikahi lelaki 33 tahun yang Papa pilihkan. Kedua, pergi dari rumah tanpa membawa apapun dan dihapus dari daftar hak waris. Tentu Nala tidak bisa memilih salah satu dari dua pilihan tersebut. Karena mana mungkin Nala menikahi Om-Om sedang dia saja baru lulus SMA. Dan bagaimana bisa Nala meninggalkan rumah, kehidupan mewah dan uang-uang yang selalu memanjakannya sejak kecil? Bisakah Nala tidak menikah dengan Om-Om puluhan Papa tapi tetap diam di rumah? Dan apa yang kiranya akan Nala lakukan untuk menghindari perjodohan itu?

Setengah kilo nasi aking untuk anakku adalah novel tentang kehidupan sebuah keluarga yang hidup digaris kemiskinan. setelah sang suami harus diberhentikan dari pekerjaannya, mereka benar-benar terpuruk. Dan mereka bekerja serabutan. Hardi, lelaki yang telah membersamainya selama hampir kurang kebih tujuh tahun bekerja sebagai kuli cangkul disawah. sedangkan Hanum tak pernah tinggal diam. Ia membantu mencari uang sebagai buruh cuci setrika dari rumah kerumah. Meskipun kehidupan mereka pas-pasan, namun keluarga mereka adalah contoh keluarga bahagia. selalu bersyukur dan tak pernah mengeluh sedikitpun. Mereka menjalani hari-hari dengan penuh kebahagiaan. Namun ... kebahagiaan Hanum tak berlangsung lama. Disinilah awal dari semua penderitaan yang dialami oleh Hanum dan kedua Anaknya ...! Penderitaan yang bagaimana yang dialami oleh Hanum ...? Yuk ikuti kisah selanjutnya ... !

Rania tinggal bersama Ibu Tirinya yang kejam. Suka memerintah seenak jidat. Bahkan dia memaksa Rania untuk menikah diusianya yang masih belia. Vera menginginkan Rania menikah dengan anak temannya, semata-mata demi mendapatkan uang maskawin yang diberikan. Rania terpaksa menikah dengan Erlan. Ketua OSIS sekaligus geng motor yang ditakuti. Di lain sisi, Rania pun dicintai oleh Ravi, Dokter ganteng yang dulu merawat Ayahnya Rania ketika sakit. Lantas seperti apa kehidupan Rania? Akankah dia tetap mempertahankan pernikahannya dengan Erlan atau berpaling kepada Ravi?

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

Five years after I died, Delia—my wife, a doctor—tried to dump her first love's new mess on me again. She stormed into my old place, waving some fake agreement with my name on it, but all she found was dust. Panicking, she ran downstairs and cornered the shop owner. "William?" he said. "He's been dead five years. Heard the family of that malpractice case found him. Stabbed him up bad." Delia laughed it off, like the guy was making it up. "So what if he got suspended? He's still sulking over that?" She rolled her eyes. "Tell him this—he's got three days. If he doesn't show, I'm cutting off his sister's cancer treatment." She muttered something ugly, slammed the door, and left. The shop owner just watched her go, shaking his head. "There's no sister left," he said quietly. "She died years ago... couldn't pay for treatment."

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.