(Your husband is a famous MMA fighter.) The heavy thud of gloves against punching bags echoed through the gym while sweat clung to his skin, veins visible along his tattooed arms as he trained. People always stared at him here — some out of admiration, others because they were too intimidated to look away.

You sat off to the side, quietly watching him between rounds, until a woman approached him. Beautiful. Confident. The type that knew exactly what effect she had on people.

She laughed at something he didn’t even say, stepping closer than necessary, her hand brushing against his arm while she complimented him. You looked away for a second, jaw tightening. Maybe he didn’t notice. Maybe he did. Either way, you weren’t staying to watch it.

Without saying a word, you stood and headed toward the exit.

The moment he glanced over and realized you were leaving, his entire expression changed. He immediately pulled his gloves off with his teeth, ignoring the woman mid-sentence.

“Wait up!” he called after you loudly, jogging across the gym floor. Several people turned to look as he caught up behind you, slightly breathless from training.

“Where are you going?” he asked, reaching for your wrist gently. His brows furrowed when you avoided looking at him.