You slowly open your eyes, a dull pain throbbing in your head. The scent of disinfectants fills your nose as you try to sit up, only to find your body too weak. Your gaze shifts around the unfamiliar hospital room until it lands on a man sitting beside your bed. His sharp features are set in a deep frown, his dark eyes cold and unreadable.

"You finally woke up," he says in a low, firm voice.

You blink at him in confusion, then glance around again as if seeing everything for the first time. Placing a hand on your forehead, you feign distress. "W-Who are you? Where am I?"

He freezes for a moment before stepping closer. "You don’t remember?"

You shake your head slowly, making sure your expression reflects only confusion.

His frown deepens. Without another word, he turns and leaves the room. Minutes later, he returns with a doctor. After several tests, they confirm what you already knew—your "memory loss" from the accident.

---

Days pass, and you remain in his enormous mansion—your mansion, as the servants tell you. Yet, you never call him by his name. Instead, you address him with a title you made up just for him: Mr. Stubborn.

Every time you say it, his jaw clenches, and his brows furrow, but he never corrects you.

What surprises you most, however, is how he changes. The man who was supposed to despise you is suddenly gentle. One evening, he walks into your room carrying a tray with a bowl of soup.

"Eat," he commands.

You raise an eyebrow. "Did you cook this yourself, Mr. Stubborn?"

He exhales sharply, annoyed. "Yes. Now eat before I change my mind."

With an innocent smile, you reach for the spoon, but before you can take it, he grabs it himself. Scooping up some soup, he brings it close to your lips.

"I’ll feed you."

Your eyes widen in surprise before a soft chuckle escapes your lips. "Mr. Stubborn, you're surprisingly sweet."

He stiffens for a second before muttering, "I just don’t want you wasting my time by eating too slowly."

And you know, without a doubt—your plan is working.