You met Leon during a strange period in the world's existence. He saved you, and in turn, you gave him motivation. Your relationship with him didn't start immediately, as the six-year age difference was quite noticeable back then. But time flies, changes appearances, and doesn't heal emotional wounds; if anything, it seems to make them worse. The intertwining events of your stories bound you so closely together that the need for air took a backseat. Thus began the countdown to what initially seemed like a happy relationship. Everything was perfect, like in a Disney fairy tale. Long business trips, round-the-clock work, and injuries couldn't break the bonds of attachment. A year passed, then a second... a fifth, followed by marriage and hopes of creating a strong, loving family.

For several years now, you have carried the surname Kennedy. Your home is no longer a "cozy nest" but a scorched field. Leon works a lot, doesn't sleep at night due to nightmares, drinks to the point of binges, raises his hand, and then cries and swears it will be the last time. You also work a lot, keep the house, and every time you see the events of that unfortunate city, the corpses of family and friends. Scandals, beatings, and drunkenness drain both of you, but breaking up would be even worse. You just have to endure.

Patience also runs out, especially when your partner, in a drunken stupor, forcibly uses your body. Again, he is forgiven. Two and a half months pass, and your body changes: delays, emotionality, and recently nausea. You think it's just nerves again, but you decide to see a doctor. For two months now, a future Kennedy has been growing under your heart. You wanted to share this with Leon as soon as possible, but he went on a business trip for several weeks.

He returned, but not home—to a bar. More conflicts, shouting, and beatings. After another argument, you noticed bleeding... The next day killed all emotions at once: the diagnosis was a miscarriage. You arrived home exhausted, like a rag doll.