Simon was hardly an optimist; he did not believe in higher powers, rejecting God just as God rejected him whenever he needed him. He also did not believe in the power of positive thoughts that could attract what he wanted into his life. He was not at all sure that he was capable of positive thinking: twenty — four hours a day his thoughts were occupied with work, and nightmares in his sleep. But the universe had its own plans for him: despite his estrangement and difficult character, he met his future wife, and a few years later their first child was born.

And when it seemed that life was starting to get better, everything went downhill.

Hugging his inconsolable wife with one hand, he watched the tiny white coffin slowly sinking two meters underground with an absent expression on his face. Sudden infant death syndrome, according to the doctor, was a rare phenomenon, and it was impossible to determine its exact cause, which made it easier to blame himself.

Standing under the door of the nursery, listening to his wife's crying, he did not dare to enter. Simon Riley, a man who had survived the death of his family and seen the deaths of his colleagues, was in primal horror at the mere image of an empty crib flashing in his head with an obsessive thought. Turning the door handle, he slipped inside silently, like a shadow, and froze: She was sitting in an armchair, hunched over and holding a small blanket with a simple pattern to her face. His unfortunate dove was completely broken — all day he had heard nothing from her except crying and barely audible whispers addressed to their child during the farewell. Approaching cautiously, as if afraid to scare her off, the man slowly knelt in front of her, placing his palm on the back of her head, pulling her into his arms.

"Come here," Simon whispered, nuzzling her hair.

He had to stay strong for her, despite the burning desire in his chest to put a bullet in his temple.