I guided Christina over to the training area, ready to teach her some basic self-defense techniques. There was an inexplicable feeling inside me—a deep desire to protect her—not just because she's my wife or because it's my responsibility, but because I genuinely don't want any harm to come her way.

Christina stood beside me, looking visibly nervous. Her eyes darted occasionally past me, where I assumed Andrea was standing.

"Don’t hold back. You’re not going to hurt me, even if you tried," I reassured her, my tone firm but gentle. I wasn’t trying to diminish her or her abilities; I just wanted her to feel confident enough to give it her all, without hesitating just because I’m her husband. I needed to see how fast she could move, how precise her strikes could be.

She nodded silently, her eyes betraying her uncertainty.

"Let’s start with some stretching," I suggested. "It’ll loosen you up and prevent any muscle injuries."

I demonstrated a few stretching exercises, guiding her through each one to help ease the tension in her body. After about 15 minutes of warming up, I could see she was starting to relax a little. That’s when I decided it was time to begin the actual training.

"The first thing you need to practice," I began, locking my gaze on hers, "is not freezing up when someone attacks you. If you freeze, you give them the upper hand, making it easier for them to reach you. Reflexes are crucial. You need to train yourself to strike back, without hesitation. But, more than anything, the moment you have the chance, you should focus on getting away. Running is not cowardly—it's survival."

I paused, watching her closely to gauge how she was receiving my words. There was doubt in her eyes, a flicker of insecurity.

"Look, compared to most men in our world, it’ll be tough to hold your own physically," I continued. "For one, many of them have been trained to fight since childhood, raised to be brutal, especially towards women. And two, you're a good person, with a good heart, which means you’ll always hold back in some way. And that’s okay."

Christina maintained eye contact, but the uncertainty was still there. It wasn’t about the training; it was about her lack of confidence.

"I’ll never be able to defend myself like Andrea," she whispered, almost as if saying it aloud made it more real.

"You don’t have to," I replied gently. "Andrea’s exceptional. From what I’ve seen of her training, she’s strong enough to take on two or three men at once. She might even be able to take down Raffaele and me together." I said the last part cautiously, not wanting Christina to feel discouraged or overwhelmed.

"Andrea is the best," she said, her voice soft but filled with admiration. "She’s trained relentlessly since she was 13. Enzo might have guided her, but 90 percent of the work—her strength, her skill—that was all her."

The pride in her voice for her sister was unmistakable. If only more sibling bonds were like this in the world—a mix of love, respect, and admiration. It was a rare thing.

"Christina," I said softly, stepping closer. "You are in no way lesser than your sister. Andrea might be an incredible fighter, but that doesn’t make you any less worthy. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Andrea’s talent might be fighting, but she struggles with other things. It’s the same for everyone. The best thing we can do is embrace our strengths and work on our weaknesses until we’re at least decent at them."

I didn’t want her to feel inferior to anyone, not when she was such a kind and gentle soul. Those qualities were even rarer than strength or skill, especially in times like these.

"So," I said with a smile, trying to break the heavy mood, "let’s start your training."

Christina gave me a small but determined nod, and I could see a spark of resolve in her eyes. This was the first step, and while it would take time, I knew she had the strength inside her to learn and grow.

We moved to the center of the training area, and I could sense Christina’s apprehension still lingering, but there was a glimmer of determination in her eyes. This wasn’t going to be easy for her, but I admired her for pushing through.

"Alright, the first thing we're going to focus on is balance," I began, stepping back a few paces. "If you don’t have good balance, your strikes will be weak, and you’ll be easily knocked down. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Always keep one foot slightly ahead of the other, like you're ready to move."

She mimicked my stance, adjusting her footing as I instructed. I moved closer and tapped her shoulder lightly, testing how stable she was. She wobbled slightly but managed to stay upright.

"Good," I said, nodding approvingly. "Now, keep your hands up. Protect your face." I raised my own hands in front of my face to show her. "And remember, don’t drop your guard, no matter what."

Christina did as I asked, raising her hands, though they trembled slightly.

"Take a deep breath," I said gently, sensing her nervousness. "You're doing fine. It’ll feel more natural as we go."

She exhaled slowly and steadied herself, her hands still raised.

"Now, let’s start with something simple—how to block." I stood in front of her, moving my arm slowly in a mock strike. "If someone swings at you, you can either step back to avoid it or block it. For now, I’ll show you how to block."

I swung slowly, giving her time to react. She raised her arm, but her movement was hesitant, unsure.

"Don’t worry about hurting me. You need to put some strength behind your blocks. Otherwise, the force of the hit will still get through," I said, gently correcting her arm’s position.

I repeated the motion a few more times, and each time, she blocked a little more confidently. Her movements were still stiff, but I could tell she was getting the hang of it.

"Good," I said. "Now, I’m going to come at you a little faster. Don’t freeze up—just react. Your body will know what to do."

I took a step back, then threw a quick but soft punch toward her shoulder. Her eyes widened for a split second, but she raised her arm and blocked it, this time with a bit more force. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good start.

"See? You didn’t freeze," I pointed out, offering a small smile. "That’s what you need to practice. The more you do it, the more natural it’ll feel."

Christina’s lips curled into a tentative smile, a hint of pride shining through her nervousness.

"Now, let’s try striking," I said. "You’ve blocked, but you also need to know how to defend yourself by attacking. When someone comes at you, you don’t always have to just defend—sometimes, a quick strike can buy you enough time to escape."

I stood back and demonstrated a simple punch, showing her how to position her fists, how to rotate her body to put more power behind it.

"Focus on precision over power," I instructed. "You’re not trying to knock someone out; you’re trying to create an opening to get away. Aim for vulnerable spots—nose, throat, solar plexus."

Christina nodded, her expression a little more focused now.

"Here, try it," I said, stepping back. "Throw a punch at me."

She hesitated, her hands shaking slightly. I saw the conflict in her eyes—she didn’t want to hurt me, even though I’d assured her she wouldn’t.

"Christina, remember what I said," I reminded her gently. "You won’t hurt me, but you need to get used to striking with intent. Don’t hold back."

She took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and threw a punch at my midsection. It was weak and tentative, her body still unsure of the movement.

"Not bad," I said, stepping back. "But you’re holding back. I need you to put more force into it, even if it feels strange. Don’t think of it as hurting me—think of it as protecting yourself."

She nodded, biting her lip, and this time, when she punched, there was more intent behind it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better.

"That’s it," I encouraged. "Now, faster. Throw two punches—one, two."

Christina took another breath and threw two punches, quicker this time, though her form wavered slightly. But the effort was there, and I could see her gaining a bit more confidence with each attempt.

"Again," I said, stepping closer. "This time, don’t hesitate. One, two—right after each other."

She nodded and threw the punches, this time without the brief pause between them.

"Good! Keep practicing that," I said, stepping back to give her space. "One, two, then step back, like you’re ready to move. You don’t need to stand and fight—just hit and get away."

Christina repeated the motion a few more times, her punches becoming a little faster, a little stronger each time. She was still unsure of herself, but the progress was there.

After several minutes, she stopped, breathing heavily but with a spark of determination in her eyes.

"You’re doing great," I said, offering her a nod of approval. "It’s not about being perfect right now—it’s about building your instincts. And you’re getting there."

She looked up at me, still a little unsure, but I could see the flicker of pride in her expression.

"We’ll keep working on it," I promised. "Little by little, you’ll get stronger and more confident. But you’ve got to trust yourself, Christina. You’re stronger than you think."

She smiled softly, a quiet determination behind her eyes. She moved forward, wrapped her hands around my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. It was deep and passionate. My hand automatically moved to her waist. When we pulled apart, she was flushed. I loved that shade of deep pink on her face.

"Now," I said with a grin, "let’s go again."