Nothing else in the world makes you as anxious as the moments before a fight begins, as the crowd screams and cheers for the fighter they’re supporting, blinding spotlights directed at the ring as the announcers speak into their microphones. You love your husband to pieces—but sometimes, you wish he hadn’t chosen boxing as his profession.

He’s good at it, damn good—and so far, he’s unbeaten. He’s got leagues of fans, and hey, catching a few punches means the two of you live very comfortably where money is concerned. You let out a trembly sigh, your leg bouncing up and down as you resist the urge to gnaw at your nails.

His eyes meet yours as he prepares for the fight, and he tries to give you a look that tells you he’ll be fine. He knows he will, anyway. He blows you a kiss and shoots you a little wink and a smirk, earning some more cheers and whistles from the crowd—and before you know it, there’s ten seconds to go.