Elena's POV:
The first thing I feel is pain. Sharp, excruciating pain. It runs from low in my belly, rounds my waist, then settles heavily in my core.
It's like a fist made of heated iron is being twisted in my guts. My breath catches in my throat, and when I try to inhale, the pain only sharpens.
A small sound escapes me. Half gasp, half whimper.
I move my hand instinctively to press my stomach, trying to pull myself together, but the pain only spikes.
Taking deep, heavy breaths, I force my eyes open. I try to get up, but I can't. So instead, I roll onto my back, then to my side. Each attempt sends another wave of pain spiraling, but I force myself until I'm half-seated on the bed.
The pain spreads through my hips, and I wince, clenching my fists tightly. I'm feeling slightly nauseous, I'm sweaty, and my breathing is labored.
Then I feel it.
Warm wetness. A heavy, soaked weight under me.
My heart drops.
"No… no, no…" My voice shakes as I force myself to lift the duvet.
And there it is.
Blood.
And it's everywhere.
The white sheets are barely recognizable because of the large puddle of red in the middle.
The sight makes my stomach twist harder, and a fresh cramp hits so violently I fold forward, pressing my forehead to my knees.
I'm on my period.
And it's one of those bad ones.
The ones that used to keep me home from school. The ones that kept me awake in bed, tossing and turning all night. The ones that used to leave me curled up on the cold bathroom floor, praying for it to be over.
I thought maybe this month would be gentler. And less heavy. But I should have known better.
My hands are trembling, but I force myself to stand so I can head for the bathroom. The moment I straighten, however, pain shoots through me, blindsiding me so brutally that my legs buckle and I collapse on the cold floor.
I curl into myself, arms around my stomach. I don't know when it happens, but warm liquid slides down my face.
And anytime I breathe, trying to stop the tears from flowing, the pain only sharpens.
Another cramp.
Then another.
And another.
It feels like something inside me is clawing to get out.
"Pads," I grit out through the pain. I don't have pads.
God, why today?
More tears flow. I'm bleeding through everything. My panties, my clothes.
I don't know how much time passes while my body is tearing itself apart, but somewhere beyond the haze, I hear footsteps. Heavy footsteps.
Adrian.
My heart jumps. Part relief, part dread. He can't see me like this. There's blood all over me. I feel so miserable and vulnerable.
He knocks once.
"Elena?"
I try to speak, but it comes out as a choked whisper. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly.
He calls again, but his voice is sharper this time. "Elena."
I take labored breaths before trying again, but as I open my mouth to answer, pain twists low in my stomach, and a broken sob escapes me before I can swallow it down.
I curl into myself tighter, feeling helpless.
Then, there's silence. He's gone. I didn't answer him, and he probably thinks I'm ignoring him. He's—
There's a loud crash as the door slams open, wood splintering.
I gasp and look up through tears just as Adrian steps in. There's an angry scowl on his face, but the second his eyes land on me, his face drops.
"Elena." He rushes toward me, kneeling and reaching for me.
I turn my face away in embarrassment, and more tears seem to flow out.
I feel his touch on my arm. Soft. He holds me like I'm something fragile.
"Elena, what ha—"
He goes quiet.
I look through the corner of my teary eye and see how he studies me. He studies the blood on my body. He takes in my soaked nightgown, and then his eyes ghost over the bed.
"Fuck," he mutters quietly.
His expression softens, and a flicker of emotion flashes in his eyes, but I can't control my own tears. Aside from the pain slicing through me, embarrassment eats me up. I've never been more humiliated in my life.
"Hey," he rubs my arms softly, lifting me up. "Look at me."
His voice is so soft. Softer than I've ever heard. And I try. God, I try, but another wave hits, and my body curls tighter, my hand clutching his shirt without thinking.
Before I can tell what's happening, I'm swept up from the ground with careful gentleness, one arm on my back and the other under my bloodied thigh.
I cling to him, pressing my face into his chest, trembling uncontrollably.
"It… it hurts," I choke out. "I ca.."
"I know, baby, I know." His grip tightens around me. "I've got you."
If I wasn't in so much pain, I'd dwell on the fact that he called me baby.
And the way he holds me is effortless, like I weigh nothing. It's steady. Grounded.
He carries me into the bathroom and sets me down carefully on the counter, one hand still on my waist as if he's scared that if he lets go, I might just fall apart. To be honest, I'm not sure how far from the truth that is.
His eyes flick over my face, my trembling, bloodied thighs, and the way I'm hunched over. His jaw tightens again.
I want him to look away. I hate that he's seeing me like this.
"I need to get the water warm," he says quietly. "Can you stay sitting?"
I nod, even though my whole body is shaking.
He turns the tap on, and the water comes rushing out. He tests the temperature with his hand and adjusts it. Steam slowly fills the room. When he comes back to me, I'm still gripping the counter so tight my knuckles are white.
"I… I don't have any pads," I whisper, my throat burning with humiliation.
I don't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't for him to pull out his phone and make a call.
"Get me every brand of sanitary pads you carry," he orders the moment someone answers. His free hand comes around me again to steady me, and I lean into his hold. "All absorbencies. Now. And painkillers. Strong ones."
A pause.
"I don't care how fast you can get here, I want them now." And then he hangs up.
Through half-lidded eyes, I scan his body.
Blood. My blood. It's on his arm.
Humiliation creeps up my face, and I'm disgusted by the whole situation.
"I'm... I'm sorry," I croak.
His brows furrow, then he follows my line of sight until his eyes land on his bloodied arm.
His expression softens, and he lifts my chin gently with a finger. "Don't apologize." His blue eyes catch mine. "It's just blood. It'll wash off."
"lt'll wash off," I repeat in my head.
He proceeds to brush my hair out of my face with a softness I've never seen from him.
Then… hesitation flashes across his eyes before he asks, "Can you manage the bath alone?"
I stare at him, not knowing what to say. Then I swallow hard and nod.
"Good." But he doesn't move yet. Instead, his thumb comes up, and he wipes a tear from my cheek. The action feels natural. And something about it warms my chest.
He steps back slowly, giving me space. "If you need me for anything, call me. I'll be right outside the door."
I nod faintly.
When he leaves, it's like the warmth of the room went with him.
I force myself out of my clothes, wincing, and sink into the tub, letting the heat wrap around me. It loosens the cramps just enough for me to breathe properly.
I don't know how long I sit there, but I embrace the warmth.
Minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Adrian opens it but doesn't step inside. He just leaves fresh clothes and a stack of pads on the counter, every type imaginable. Along with painkillers and a bottle of water.
My heart warms at the act.
"You have everything you need?" he asks from the doorway.
"Yes." My voice shakes.
"Take your time."
He closes the door.
------
When I go to put on my pad, I notice that my panties are there too. He went through my wardrobe. Humiliation floods me, and I let out an exasperated sigh.
I step into the bedroom slowly. The sheets have been changed already. It's like nothing happened. He's standing by the window, arms folded, tense in a way I've never seen.
The moment he turns and sees me, something in his expression eases. Just a little.
"Are the pills helping?" he asks.
"Y... yes," I mutter.
"Good." He nods once, then starts walking toward me, only he walks past me to go to the bathroom.
I panic. "Adrian, what are you..."
He opens the door without listening, and a few seconds later, he comes out with my bloodied clothes in his hands.
My stomach dips. And it's not from the dull ache in my lower belly. It's out of sheer embarrassment.
"Adrian, you don't have to do that. I can do it myself," I rush out, my voice shaky.
"It's fine. I'll do it. You need to rest."
"But I.."
"Bed, Elena."
I clench my hands by my sides but head for the bed anyway.
Minutes later, he enters the room again with a hot water bottle in his hand. I stir and sit up on the bed. The pain in my stomach is still there, but it's bearable now.
"Here," he hands me the bottle. "It's warm."
"Thank you." I stretch my hand out and take it from him.
"Lucia's downstairs. I told her you need rest, so she'll be washing your clothes."
A wave of relief washes over me. I nod at him. Better Lucia than him. I've already been embarrassed enough for one day.
When I think he'll leave, he pulls the chair closer and stands in front of me.
"Lay down."
"What?"
He tilts his head toward the bed, and I lie down. He then slides the duvet over my body, stopping at my neck.
The way he's gentle with me warms all my insides.
When he's done, he settles down in the chair.
"Aren't you leaving?" I blurt out, my voice almost a whisper.
"No," he answers almost immediately. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone.
I stare at the man in front of me. He's… different.
"Adrian?"
His gaze lifts to mine. "Hm?"
"Thank you," I murmur, sinking further under the duvet.
Something flickers across his eyes, but it's gone almost immediately.
"You don't need to thank me," is all he says before his attention goes back to his screen.
I watch him as exhaustion pulls me under, his gaze pinned to me, protective in a way that makes me feel safe.
----
I stir awake. I don't know what time it is or how long I've been sleeping.
The room is dim. The pain in my belly aches dully, but it's not slicing anymore. When I shift slightly, something catches my eye.
Adrian's frame glows under the dim light.
He's stretched out on the chair beside the bed, his arms folded, head slightly tilted back. Even resting, he still looks... intimidating. But his handsomeness shines in a softer light.
The shadows beneath his eyes are less harsh. His chest rises and falls slowly.
He's still here.
He stayed.
My throat twists unexpectedly. I lie there, watching him quietly. Memorizing the lines of his face in this unguarded moment. The way a lock of dark hair falls over his forehead. The faint crease between his brows that stays even in sleep.
He looks… human.
I pull my blanket closer, my eyes never leaving him. And I savor every moment of it because I don't know when next I'll see this side of him again.