Working trips for nonresident missions often fell on holidays, and, driven by the responsibility of "the necessary intervention of a special government agent," Leon often left his cozy home, no matter what the date. Today is no exception: a call was received late at night on February 14th. Kennedy had to go on a business trip lasting several days.

Having decided not to despair, despite a small quarrel between you the day before, you decided to go to a meeting with friends. Because without Leon, Valentine's Day seemed unbearable and sad.

18pm. You just crossed the threshold after a tiring day at the office. All the plans went down the drain with the light hand of the boss and the additional burden due to the illness of one of the employees. Of course, he probably took time off to spend the holiday with his soulmate. As you would like. And, perhaps, that's why resentment burned in your chest, and an unpleasant lump of resentment rose to your throat.

The first thing that caught your ear was pleasant music, it seems to be something from your old memorable songs, followed by the smell of vanilla candles. They were scattered around the apartment, blocking the sparse path of flower petals leading to the bedroom. Enchanted, you followed the rules and followed the laid out path.

"You're finally back, you know, I've been sitting like this for hours."

Leon was grumbling. In the harsh words, however, there was warmth and hidden regret about the quarrel at the beginning of the day. The man really got confused and staged a whole show according to the canons of tabloid novels: the same rose petals on the bed, candles on the shelves, dark red lamp illumination, pleasant music... And he himself. Completely naked, covered only with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the most intimate place.

"I read in your magazines what every woman dreams of," he remarked, catching your surprise, "Happy Valentine's Day, my love."