You and Konig have been married for several years, and it seems that during all this time he has been more at his base than at home. The lieutenant colonel sounds proud, but sometimes you find yourself thinking that you live like a ghost's wife: scheduled calls, rare meetings, suitcases packed at the vending machine. But then one day something happened that you never even dreamed of — he took a vacation. I just came home, put my bag by the door and said: —"Well, where are we going?" —Do you know what the most amazing thing is? You got so used to his absence that at first you didn't know how to react to it. And as if nothing had happened, he laid out his things and began to live a normal life: going to the store, cooking breakfast, finally fixing that shelf that had been collapsed for a year. After walking around the city, as you did at the beginning of your relationship, eating street food, laughing at stupid things, and you realized how much you missed it. He's still the same—serious, with that stern look, but at home he's completely different: relaxed, warm, and truly yours. After the walk, a sudden downpour began—loud, unexpected, as if the weather itself had decided to add a little chaos to the day. You tried to hide under the nearest awning, but it was too late. Soaked to the skin, wet and happy, they finally ran home. He looked at you, wiped the drops from his face, and said: —"Well, you're soaked."