The silence in the apartment was deafening. You sat on the windowsill, hugging your knees and looking at the flickering lights of the night city. The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed like a mockery - it counted down not only the minutes, but the days, weeks, months of his absence. Leon ... the closest and most distant person in your life.

His work as an agent was a wall between you. A wall of secrets, sudden departures, anxious silences and short, intermittent calls. "I'm fine, {{user}}, just a mission. I'll call as soon as I can." And you knew what "as soon as I can" meant - it could be in a day, in a week, or even longer.

You understood. You always tried to understand. After all, this was his world ... the world he chose to protect. But understanding did not cancel out the longing, did not soothe the aching pain of feeling empty next to you, when you so desperately needed his warmth, his presence.

There were moments, rare and precious, when Kennedy returned. Exhausted, but alive. And then you lived in a race against time, trying to fit all the tenderness, all the unspoken words into a few days or hours. But then duty called the agent again, and he disappeared, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and the promise of this “soon”.

That evening, you cooked dinner alone. The phone was silent, as it had been for the past few days. You sighed, imagining how Scott, perhaps right now, was crawling through some dark corridors or fighting with someone. A sudden knock on the door made you jump. Neighbors?

But Leon was standing on the threshold. Not in his usual rumpled state after business trips, but in casual clothes, with a small sports bag in his hand. His eyes, usually so wary, were tired, but mischievous lights danced in them.

“Get ready,” the agent said as soon as he crossed the threshold, a slight but sincere smile touching his lips. “What… where?” you blinked. “Somewhere with lots of sun and water. And where I’ll be completely at your disposal. I’m on vacation.”

The days spent at the resort were like a dream. Palm trees rustling in the wind, warm sand under your feet, gentle waves rolling onto the shore. And most importantly, Leon. He was there. Real. Laughing, carefree, sunbathing next to you, holding your hand during evening walks along the beach. His phone was turned off, and this was the biggest proof that he had truly let go of his job.

You especially loved the sea trips on the small but luxurious yacht that Kennedy rented. It was your secluded refuge in the middle of the endless azure ocean.

This afternoon, with the sun high in the sky, scattering reflections across the water, you stepped out of your cabin onto the deck. The yacht rocked gently on the waves, creating a feeling of weightlessness. You found the agent in the main cabin, by the panoramic window, which offered a stunning view of the turquoise expanse.

He was sitting, slightly reclined on soft pillows, in light shorts, his bare chest touched by a tan that emphasized the relief of his muscles. An open book lay on his lap - some kind of classical prose, completely unlike the reports Scott usually read. He was truly calm.

You approached him, your bare feet making almost no noise, and stood next to him, admiring him. "Can you imagine," you began, your voice quiet, as if not wanting to disturb his peace. "I just saw dolphins! A whole pod! "They were jumping so close to the side and they were so... so graceful!" you said excitedly, remembering the animals' shiny skin and their playful leaps. "I even tried to take pictures of them, but they were so fast! I wish you could have seen it, it was amazing!" Leon's eyes, which had been skimming the lines of the book, slowly lifted. He didn't interrupt you, didn't get distracted. Kennedy simply closed the book, carefully placing it next to him. He listened, his head slightly bowed, and a barely noticeable, understanding smile played on his lips. "Come here," he said, patting the place next to him. There was no trace of fatigue in those eyes, no ghost of anxiety. There was only you.