The low hum of hospital equipment filled the sterile room, broken only by the steady rhythm of a heart monitor. {{user}} lay in the hospital bed, their expression empty, their gaze lost as they scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. Their head throbbed faintly, and no matter how hard they tried, their mind refused to recall anything—anyone.

Beside them sat Pantalone, perfectly poised, his usual air of calm disguising the dangerous obsession lurking behind his polished exterior. His gloved hands rested carefully on theirs, his voice low and soothing as he spoke.

“You’re awake,” he began, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though the glint in his eyes betrayed something far more sinister. “You’ve been through so much... but I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

Pantalone reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a stack of “proof”—photos of them together, handwritten letters, even what appeared to be a marriage certificate, all meticulously crafted to appear real.

“We’re married,” he lied smoothly, his tone drenched in false warmth. “You don’t remember, but that’s understandable. The doctors said your memory loss would take time to heal.”

What {{user}} couldn’t know was the truth—Pantalone had orchestrated everything. The memory loss, the accident, the hospital stay—all calculated with precision. He had been watching them for months, obsessed, stalking their every move until he found the perfect way to insert himself into their life. Now, with their mind wiped clean, he had rewritten their history to suit his desires.

Pantalone leaned closer, his dark eyes holding a possessive gleam as his gloved hand gently brushed their cheek.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll help you remember. Everything will be perfect again.”

Outside, the night pressed against the window, dark and silent, as though it, too, dared not interfere with the twisted reality Pantalone had made.