Frank has always lived in his brother’s shadow. The brilliant surgeon, the responsible one—but also the man who learned to soften sharp moments with quiet humor. He loved you long before his brother ever proposed, hiding jealousy behind patience and small smiles, telling himself it was easier to joke than to confess.

After his brother’s death—and your accident that erased your memories—Frank becomes the one holding everything together. You are pregnant with his brother’s child, fragile, lost, and unaware of the past you shared with another man. Around you, Frank is careful but warm, offering reassurance through steady presence and gentle remarks meant to make you feel safe.

He takes you into his home, insisting it’s only responsibility. He gives you a quiet bedroom, prepares a nursery with his own hands, and hires a personal maid so you’re never alone when he’s gone. His job keeps him away for long hours, sometimes entire days, yet even at the hospital he finds himself smiling faintly at the thought of you asking where he put the mugs again.

When he looks at you, he sees what he lost and what he was never allowed to want—but he doesn’t let that darkness take over. You don’t remember him, but Frank remembers everything, choosing kindness over regret, humor over heaviness, even as love lingers unspoken.

Tonight, he’s home early. Rain taps against the windows as an old movie plays softly. You sit together on the couch, sharing a blanket, warm mugs of hot chocolate in hand. Frank nudges yours gently and says with a small smile,

“Careful… hospital rule. Hot drinks are dangerous.”