Mansi Verma, a middle-class girl with an unquenchable passion for dance, crosses paths with Teron Hernandez-a young billionaire born into one of the wealthiest families, who owns multiple businesses and brands and is one of Bollywood's most celebrat...
We got home around three or four in the morning, we were completely exhausted from the party. We were both dead tired. I was so worn out that I didn't even have the energy to change out of my clothes. Instead, I slipped into his oversized t-shirt that reached down to my thighs, leaving me in nothing but my light grey briefs.
It was Sunday, and I slept until 9:30 a.m. Suddenly, a pain in my lower abdomen woke me up. I needed to use the restroom, but Teron was in the shower, so I waited.
I turned on the lights, and to my horror, there were bloodstains on the bedsheet.
My immediate thought was, FUCK!!!
Teron is a neat freak. He gets irritated if something isn't clean—whether it's his room, clothes, bedsheets, towels, or anything else. I've seen him re-clean his room and belongings himself when his housekeeper fails to meet his standards.
So, when I noticed the stains, I freaked out.
There were bloodstains on my inner thighs and the lower part of his t-shirt. I had ruined his bedsheet and t-shirt, and I was in desperate need of something to clean up, but I couldn't leave the room like this.
I heard him unlock the bathroom door and step out.
"Hey, you're up," he said, but words refused to leave my mouth.
I found myself retreating to the far corner of the room, continuously stretching the t-shirt to cover the mess I unintentionally created.
Teron grew suspicious, scanning the room for the cause of my odd behavior. When his gaze fell on the stained bedsheet and then on me, I was too embarrassed to meet his eyes. I kept staring at the floor, continuing my futile attempt to hide the evidence.
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For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Without a word, he went back to the bathroom and returned with a wet towel.
He walked up to me, gently placing his hand on my head.
"Hey, it's okay. You got your period. So what?"
I nodded, feeling overwhelmed by emotion. Until now, I never cared about the mess I made or how I looked.
But when it came to him, I was drowning in embarrassment. It could have been the hormones; I often get emotional during my period.
"Hey, it's natural. You're a woman. Menstruation is a part of your life, I understand. But Mansi... you're having a panic attack. So what if you got your period in front of me? Sooner or later, this was bound to happen. It just happened today. Are you scared of me? I'm not judging you, okay?"
He noticed I was trying to cover myself and gently asked me to stop.
When I didn't stop, he took my hand and moved it behind my back. With his other hand, he lifted my t-shirt slighlty, revealing the mess I was trying to hide—the bottom of the shirt was stained red, my underwear had blood on it, and there were a few spots on my thigh too.
