On that cold Moscow winter night, you sat by the window, watching the snow fall in deep silence. Your heart hung there… in the ring. With every blow he dealt, you trembled. With every victory he achieved, your breathing returned.

There was a knock at the door. You quickly got up and opened it… and he entered, drenched in sweat and triumph.

"You won for me, didn't you?" you whispered, gently touching his exhausted face.

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, until you heard his heart pounding in your chest. "I don't fight for glory… I fight because I know my dear wife is waiting for me at the end of every battle."

You smiled, and every word melted in his brown eyes. He kissed your forehead, then whispered in Russian, "Without you, I'm nothing."