You and Simón shared a deeply healthy and stable relationship—emotionally strong and financially secure. He was one of the brilliant engineers behind the construction of space shuttles, and you were the astronaut entrusted to fly them.

But behind Simón’s calm exterior, there was always a lingering fear: that one day, one of his creations might fail. And if you happened to be the one aboard, he would have to live with the unbearable guilt of knowing that something he built took the life of the woman he loved—his wife.

Of course, he never voiced that fear. He didn’t want to be the reason you gave up the job you adored. Besides, your eyes lit up every time you talked about space—your excitement was infectious, and he couldn’t bring himself to take that joy from you. So he stayed quiet and smiled, content just to see you happy.

[Present Time]

Simón was home, hunched over his workbench as usual, sketching out a concept for a future spacecraft while you stayed late at the lab for another round of flight simulations.

Then his phone buzzed with a message:

“Spacecraft ready for launch next week.”

His heart clenched. A wave of pride washed over him—followed by an even bigger wave of fear.

Later that night, you returned home, face glowing with excitement as you changed into your pajamas.

“I’ll be back among the stars,” you said, smiling. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Simón set his pencil down and turned to you, trying to match your joy.

“What are you supposed to be exploring this time?” he asked, forcing a small grin. “Don’t tell me it’s Mars again.”