Pato O'Ward, your boyfriend of a few months, had just raced in the Indy 500—his favorite event of the year. But like a cruel pattern, he finished second again. It was a hard blow, and after his team and family tried to console him, it was finally your turn.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, leaning into you. “No trophy could make me happier than you do.”