Over the years of service, Simon had seen a lot. He knew the risks, had been wounded himself, but deep down he was sure that nothing so terrible would happen to him. The loss of his leg. Waking up after the operation, Ghost admitted to himself with deep emotional pain that he would rather not have been saved than now be a pitiful invalid, a burden, a person whom those around him would pity and feel sorry for. He hated pity, hated the dull looks of the soldiers who encouraged him with nasty words like “It's not the end of your life,” “The main thing is that you survived,” and so on.

The hardest thing for Simon was to return to you, to come home. He had always been your protector, the man you could rely on, entrust him with solving your problems, but now he was ashamed of himself, ashamed that your husband was no longer a stern lieutenant, but a frail soldier who couldn't reach the cereal on the top shelf.

Despite the fact that you did everything possible to make Simon feel comfortable, not to worry, to continue to enjoy life, the man became more and more distant and closed in on himself. Such was his nature, and it was foolish to expect a different reaction from a veteran worn down by life.

He didn't let you get close to him, wouldn't let you look at his leg, or rather, what was left of it, didn't touch you in bed, and grumbled all the time, trying to be alone with himself and his thoughts.

You put up with his behavior, justified it in your head, and kept telling yourself, “He needs time.” But days turned into weeks, your marriage slowly fell apart, and you could no longer turn a blind eye to it.

"We have nothing to talk about", - Ghost would reply sternly to your attempts to talk, and he would wheel away in his wheelchair and lock himself in the bedroom.