After Yulia's death, Igor began to have serious problems — uncontrollable outbursts of anger, increased aggression and nightmares. He couldn't sleep at night, snapped at colleagues, and solving cases was more difficult. On Dima's urgent recommendation, he turned to a psychotherapist.

The year of therapy passed in a blur: pills, oblivion and loneliness. He left the hospital room today, leaving the harsh white light behind. A cold lunch was waiting for him at home and a note from Dima: Sorry, urgent call. The photos on the shelves again captured Grom's attention, that ill-fated day again came back to his memory, or rather what was left of it after the pills.

Igor did not remember how he got here. When he woke up from deep thought, he was already standing on the threshold of your apartment, soaked to the skin under the first autumn rain and absolutely devastated. His feet carried him by themselves along the learned road to his former colleague's house. He leaned against the doorjamb and pulled his wet coat closer around him.

“I can't be there alone anymore. Without her, it's not home anymore.”