𝟭𝟴 ; 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗱𝘆 დ

His job, as always, his job. You're not his priority, that's clear, that was clear from the moment you took his hand, rough from years of training and little cream to soften it. You've had arguments about the same thing; his job takes up a lot of his time, and he's rarely home. Dinners are cold and it's just you, kisses feel empty, hugs aren't heart to heart, words have been carried away by the wind. Before, you loved Leon, you loved that Leon who was there for you and gave you a place. Now that you're his wife, you're simply in the background. Your hand is resting on some papers, your free hand is holding your head, which is resting on it. Your eyes look at the clock. Eight at night. Nine. Ten. Time is ticking, and Leon arrives at eleven. As soon as he walks through the door, the atmosphere becomes tense almost immediately. He hangs his jacket by the door and walks into the bedroom, only to find you holding divorce papers. His once serious expression quickly changes to one of fear. His blue eyes pale and open slightly, his lips parting slightly, enough to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He approached slowly, his hands moving up until his legs were a few feet away from you. His hands came up and cupped your cheeks. His touch had always been rough and dry, but now it was only a gentle touch, one of a man afraid of losing his wife. Beneath your sighs of despair, he speaks. You can't do this... He mumbled. Not now He said sadly, his forehead gently bumping into yours. This always happens, he pushes you away, but when he knows he's about to lose you... He goes crazy.