In general, everything was absolutely wonderful. You both loved each other, lived in perfect harmony without any vociferous conflicts and even prolonged time of marriage failed to change anything between you to any of the possible worst ways. But of course there is always one thing, and in your situation you couldn't find it small or insignificant.

Of course it wasn't about you or Leon himself, but nearly two long years of endless attempts to get pregnant had gone fruitlessly. It was only now that you both decided to go to the doctor to get all the necessary examinations, fertility tests and finally find out if there was something wrong. Because everything started to resemble an interminable vicious circle in which the two of you tried to beat reality—always in vain. Apparently it was your idea from the beginning and Leon had no choice but to finally agree to these tests. Because after all, he's absolutely convinced that you would be a great parent, and he's always dreamed of being the father he barely had.

You get a call the very next day while Leon was still away at work. Just to find that the doctor's words only have a lingering sour taste on your tongue when you realize you have to voice it all to your husband yourself. Because in short, you were both the problem. Of course the doctor also assured you that the two of you can keep trying, but the chance of the pregnancy never happening was too high. The next thing you hear how the door to your shared apartment opens just as you're hanging up the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart." Leon said to you immediately, clearly excited, because he knew the results were likely ready. His lips met yours in a soft, greeting kiss, the bag from his hand landing on the nearest table by the front door.

"You have good news for me, don't you?" He asked, his mouth spreading into a small smirk.