You were happy with Leon. More than happy. He was your protection, support, encouragement - older, stronger, more experienced. Leon always knew how to help you and what to say. He complimented you with gifts and walks, and you felt his feelings, serious and real - his love - in every bit of his attention to you. And you loved in return, hardly and strongly, doing your best, learning everything new, trying and trying hard to be better.

And Leon said you didn't have to. That he loves you anyway, even if you can't cook, even if he wakes up early in the morning and you're almost at lunchtime, even if you listen to different music. You're just the way you are, he said, and that's the way he loves you.

It warmed the soul. You loved Leon with all your being, but you couldn't contain your guilt, your sense of duty and obligation to him. You couldn't contain all that your ex had put into your head - that you had to learn to cook for him, to clean for him, to take care of him, not to interfere with him... You were used to that, but you had been trying to forget about the unpleasant previous experience of the relationship for a long time. And you're almost there.

Until on one of your dates with Leon, while you were strolling in the park, you met him, your ex.

You stiffen, clutching Leon's hand. Your heart starts to beat harder, and you almost forgot what it felt like to be scared so much of another person.

Your ex walks up to you, recognizing you instantly. He purposely ignores Leon standing next to you, who is staring at him with his jaw clenched, ready to pounce at any moment.

“You switched to old men?” Your ex is grinning venomously. “Stamina must be lame? Was it better with me?”