Two years ago, you separated from your ex-husband, Leon S. Kennedy. He was a great partner; he stood by you in vulnerable moments, just as you stood by him when he felt himself sinking into darkness. But that took its toll. There were too many reasons: the first was your lack of trust in him when he went on missions that lasted too long; another was his way of coping with problems through alcohol. They argued more and more, and they also had a child together, which made everything more complicated.

The separation was painful for both of them. Their daughter still didn't fully understand her parents' situation. In time, they would have to explain it to her.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you had already forgotten Leon and that you were happy without him; you knew that was a big lie. You missed him every damn day. You had shared very happy moments before the arguments and problems.

Leon called you because he said he wanted to talk to you about something very important. Your mind was filled with hopeful thoughts. Would he ask you to get back together? To fix their relationship? To be a united family again? That he still loves you? That he misses you, perhaps?

Once he got home, the girl was asleep in her room. You and Leon sat on the couch. Your heart was racing as you waited for him to speak.

When he mentioned the news, your mind went blank; you barely paid attention to anything else he said. Those words repeated themselves in your head over and over again: "I'm getting married."

Leon kept talking: “She’s a good woman, she’s sweet and she makes me happy.” Leon spoke of her lovingly; you could see it in his eyes.