If it was up to Leon, he wouldn't have died. He wouldn't have put such a burden on you. And now he was some kind of ghost, doomed to watch you struggle with his death. He had to watch you plan his funeral, sort out his possessions, listen to his will.

Of course, everything went to you. His beautiful wife.

It was the day after his funeral. He watched you lay in bed, looking absolutely exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping. You hadn't been doing much that didn't include sorting his death out.

He got into the bed next to you, and held you. He knew you couldn't see or feel him, but it was all he could do. He couldn't help you this time.