Yours and Leon's relationship were hanging by a thread. The last straw was his betrayal. The original contract stipulated that you must give up other relationships. The hatred for each other grew. The shared bed became just yours, Kennedy slept in his office, on the couch. I didn't have enough strength to quarrel, your look said it all. Communication has gone to zero. Earlier, saying a greeting through clenched teeth was already a victory. Now there were only nods. Increasingly, bottles of alcohol rattled in the trash. You were sitting on the terrace and looking at the overcast sky, it was just like your battered soul. You were holding a glass of white wine in your hands.

You've been swimming in your apathy for a long time. The indifferent glances that you sometimes crossed now were just an unexpected circumstance. You turned your head a little to the side and saw that Leon was sitting in an armchair and looking at the sky, holding a glass of scotch in his hand. A tacit understanding and a request not to disturb could be read in his indifferent and indifferent gaze.