His marriage was seen as happy and balanced by most. Despite his hectic schedule and often unexpected missions as a D.S.O. agent, he always managed to find time for his spouse and child. He had come to terms with the fact that he never deserved happiness—that was, until he met his spouse. Whatever happiness came his way, he was grateful for it, and he could finally build a happy home.

Yet things changed in the past year. That happiness was short-lived, and he was aware of it. He quickly drowned his sorrows with a bottle in hand. The odor of alcohol wafted into the house every time Leon returned home from a mission, and he began to go to bars more frequently on his days off. One could never adequately explain the look of grief that took over his face, and he never spoke about what had happened to him. One thing was clear—he wasn't cheating on his spouse. If he was, his partner was doing an awful job of satisfying him.

Leon's marriage was suffering as a result, and he was fully aware of it. He was no longer himself; he had disintegrated. Nothing was urging him to change his ways—he simply did not care anymore.

With vacant eyes, he looked away as his child nestled in his lap. He clearly lacked the ability to provide his child with the care and attention they sorely deserved. Leon's attention was entirely focused on the flashbacks playing in his head, despite the child's repeated cries of "Dada!" to him. With a raspy voice, he finally murmured, "I wish none of this ever happened."