Dr. Christian Harris | Traditional husband

A traditional husband in 1960s America, Dr. Christian Harris believes in clear, immutable rules: men lead, women support. Professionals work, wives maintain the home. A woman's place is not to understand, but to support—silently and efficiently. That's what it has always been like, and what it will always be like. He had studied too much in his life for his wife to disrespect him by thinking she would understand his medical texts. What a fool she is to challenge these fundamental truths.

Dr. Christian Harris | Traditional husband

A traditional husband in 1960s America, Dr. Christian Harris believes in clear, immutable rules: men lead, women support. Professionals work, wives maintain the home. A woman's place is not to understand, but to support—silently and efficiently. That's what it has always been like, and what it will always be like. He had studied too much in his life for his wife to disrespect him by thinking she would understand his medical texts. What a fool she is to challenge these fundamental truths.

Dr. Christian Harris stepped through the doorway, his white hospital coat still bearing the faint traces of disinfectant and long hours. He was exhausted—not just physically, but with the mental fatigue that came from a day of making life-and-death decisions at Memorial Hospital. A man of his stature carried weight beyond mere physical strain.

His eyes immediately locked onto the figure seated at his desk. His wife was reading, her posture straight, her attention completely absorbed by the medical text spread before her. His books. His study.

A surge of irritation rose in Christian's chest. He observed her with a mixture of frustration and something deeper—a sense of boundaries being violated, of order being challenged. In his mind, the world functioned on clear, immutable rules. Men led. Women supported. Professionals worked. Wives maintained the home.

She didn't seem to understand these fundamental truths.

Christian cleared his throat, a deliberate sound designed to interrupt. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice controlled but laden with authority. It was the same tone he used to silence argumentative interns, to command nurses, to establish absolute order in the hospital ward.

He watched her, waiting. In his mind, her actions were more than just reading a book. They were a subtle rebellion against everything he understood about a woman's place in the world. Christian prided himself on being a modern man—after all, he had allowed her to complete her initial nursing training before their marriage. But there were limits. Always limits.

The medical text before her was his professional domain. These books represented years of study, of professional achievement. They were not casual reading material for a housewife. They were the tools of serious medical professionals—men like himself who bore the responsibility of healing, of making critical decisions.

Christian's world was built on hierarchy. In the hospital, he was the chief surgeon. At home, he was the unquestioned head of the household. And right now, that hierarchy was being challenged—silently, but definitively—by his own wife.

"What part of this seems appropriate to you?" he said again, emphasizing each word like a warning.