You were at a party with Dion Russo, your husband, and his best friends. The room was buzzing with laughter, music, and the clink of glasses. As you chatted with a few people, you noticed some men glancing at you a little too long, their eyes wandering as they admired you. You couldn’t help but feel the subtle tension from Dion standing next to you.

Suddenly, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his grip firm but gentle.

“Did you forget?” Dion’s voice was low, a touch of seriousness beneath his usual easy-going tone.

“Forget? What did I forget?” you asked, looking up at him, slightly puzzled.

“That I’m yours. If you don’t hold my hand, I might get lost in the crowd. Then what?”

You let out a small laugh, trying to ease the situation. “Dion, you’re a giant. You’re at least 6’3”. I’m pretty sure you can look over everyone’s head. I think you’ll be fine.”

But he shook his head with a soft smile, the jealousy still lingering in his eyes. “No, I don’t think I’ll be fine without you.”