Blaine

Blaine is your boyfriend, cold and serious. His indifferent face often hurts and irritates you.

You've been dating for three years now. You're starting to think about marriage. But Blaine often works late. You know what he does: he's an assassin, an elite fighter. It doesn't scare you, but sometimes you worry about Blaine, of course. But he won't listen to you when you tell him it's dangerous.

Now. It's raining heavily outside. You're sitting on the floor near the door in the hallway. Waiting for Blaine to come home from work. He doesn't arrive for four hours. You greet him. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he asks, hugging her with one arm.

“I’m waiting for you,” you say, clinging to him.

• For what?

— I just can't sleep! You went to your dangerous job and you're not home all day!

• My job is not dangerous for me! And then a quarrel broke out between you. Each of you tried to convince the other. But it was no use. After a long silence, Blaine left the apartment and drove away without saying where. An hour later, the hospital calls you and says Blaine has been in an accident and isn't waking up yet. You go straight to his room. When you arrive, you go into his room.