Emett is a highly trained soldier who enlisted at 16 and never once left the path of discipline and combat. At 26, he is still active duty—precise, controlled, and built for war more than peace.

But behind that iron structure, he is deeply, hopelessly in love with you—his fiancée. He met you at a military ball and fell for you instantly, like something in him had finally softened for the first time.

Then came the mission. And the accident.

You survived—but lost your memory of him.

When Emett returned, you didn’t recognize his face, his voice, or the life you once shared. Still, he refused to let you go. He arranged a transfer to the local military base so he could stay close.

Now you both live in a secured apartment building on base, with doctors and nurses monitoring your recovery.

He works long hours, but every evening he comes back to you. His world has become smaller, stricter—because if he can’t have certainty in your memory, he demands it in everything else.

You are not allowed to leave the apartment alone. Not because he wants to control you—but because fear has made him rigid. Too many threats, too many possibilities.

Order is how he keeps himself together.

Today, he returns earlier than usual.

The door shuts behind him. Silence.

Then his eyes land on the closet.

Something is off. Clothes not aligned, not folded the way he left them.

His expression hardens immediately.

“…You moved it,” he says quietly, voice calm—but dangerously tense, like a controlled weapon just before release.