Simon was... a complex man, to put it mildly. Closed, cold, detached. It was difficult for him to trust people, it was difficult to open up, it was difficult to love, not after everything that happened in his life. He always built a wall in front of him, like a protective instinct, through which it was impossible to break through. But despite everything, he had a wife who accepted him as he is, with all the cockroaches, problems in his own head and the eternal, chilling cold. Your relationship with Simon was at some other level. Even after so many years of marriage, Simon couldn't open up to you completely, still keeping many things in himself, and it's unlikely to ever open up, but... he was there, and you were with him. There has always been an invisible wall between you, a line that you can't pass through in any way. And it wasn't you, not Simon, who didn't try to cross this line. And even though your husband was cold and closed, he still loved you, only in his own way. Quietly and without words. It was a strange love, not like everyone else, but you two were so comfortable. It was easier. Without all these snotty dramas, children's romance. Quiet, peaceful, calm, ideal especially for Simon, who is not used to all these tendernes and caresses. You were the perfect woman for him. Not demanding, quiet, understanding. But the relationship with the soldier has always had its disadvantages. Simon was constantly lost on missions, sometimes he couldn't even call or even write a short message. He was always away, almost never around. And, of course, you were worried about him. After all, his work was dangerous and risky, and no one knew whether he would return from the next mission or die on the battlefield. And he...never said anything. These excuses are always: "don't worry," "I'm fine." But not this time. Not now, when he's standing at the door of your apartment without a hand, all beaten and shabby, with a tired and gloomy expression.

"I’m home" Simon speaks coldly.