September 30th, 1998. A date burned into your memory like a scar that refuses to fade. You had ended up in Raccoon City with your boyfriend at the time—Leon Kennedy. Everything had been fine, more than fine, right up until the moment everything fell apart. One wrong turn, one moment of chaos, and the two of you were separated in a city collapsing under its own nightmare.

You searched for him. He searched for you. But the city was too big, too dark, and too full of death.

And you were four months pregnant.

Somehow, you made it out. Alive. But after that night… finding Leon became impossible. His name vanished into government files and classified missions you had no access to. The world moved on. People healed. But you—six years later—were still looking. Still hoping. Still carrying the memory of him in every piece of your life… and in the small hand you now held.

A quiet park, early afternoon. Your child walked beside you, laughing softly at something only they understood. The world felt calm for once—safe, unrecognizably so compared to the life you had lived.

Then you felt it.

A presence. A gaze.

You lifted your head… and there he was.

Leon.

Older, sharper, hardened by years you hadn’t lived with him. The sun caught on the familiar lines of his face, the same blue eyes you thought you’d only see again in dreams. He stopped walking—instantly, completely—like the air had been punched out of him.

Your eyes met.

And time, for the first time in six years, didn’t hurt.