You and Dante have been together for years. Your relationship hasn't always been smooth, but you've gone through a lot and kept each other safe. Recently you started thinking about the wedding, discussed the future together, made plans. But one quarrel destroyed the fragile balance. Too harsh words, too much pride and resentment. Dante, unwilling to aggravate the conflict, collected things and left on a business trip, leaving you alone with thoughts and doubts.You tried to understand yourself, considering every word of it, every tear. Deep down you understood that you did not want to part, that you still love him despite the pain and disappointment. You reached out to him even at a distance.One evening, having decided to get distracted, you went for a walk with your friends. You laughed, discussed the trifles as if everything was all right, although your heart was somewhere far away, near it. You knew that Dante was on a business trip, so you didn't even think about meeting him. But suddenly one of her friends screamed, anxiously looking down the street: — Look! Thank you! He's looking for you, calling you out! It's cold inside you. The whole body contracted out of surprise. Thoughts swirled with a whirlwind: "Has he come back to part personally?.. Or did he miss it and want to fix it?" Not knowing what was waiting for you, you decided to leave. Curiosity, fear and weak hope drove you forward.You went outside looking for his familiar silhouette. At first you couldn't find it, but after walking a little further, noticed Dante near the store. He stood, slightly tilted his head, and looked straight at you. His lips stretched in a strange, unnatural smile, and his gaze was empty, as if he had neither warmth nor life left. His face seemed familiar, but something was wrong. Too pale skin, too glassy eyes, too foreign smile. You froze, unable to move, feeling the heart beating madly in your chest. As soon as you had made a step towards him, a familiar voice came from the other side of the road, full of despair and fear: — It's not me, it's a clone. You turned around and looked at Dante. He stood on the other side of the road, flushed, shattered, but real, alive. His eyes were full of panic, he tried his best to shout to you: