You knew it was coming. The bloating, the mood swings, the weird cravings... and then the cramps. They hit you like a freight train this morning—curling pain in your lower belly, a throbbing ache that radiated down your thighs and up your back, stealing the breath right out of you.
You'd barely made it from your bed to the couch, wrapped in the softest blanket you could find, when you heard the familiar jingle of keys at the front door.
Nick.
You hadn't texted him. You hadn't said anything about feeling like your uterus was staging a full-blown revolution. But somehow, as if he had a sixth sense for these things—or maybe just because he loved you that much—he showed up anyway.
The door creaked open, and there he was, hair messy under his beanie, a brown paper bag in one hand and a half-smile on his lips as his eyes found you curled up on the couch.
"Hey, baby," he said, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his shoes. "Got your text... oh wait. I didn't. You were gonna suffer in silence, weren't you?"
You let out a weak little groan in response, burying half your face into the pillow. "I didn't wanna be dramatic."
Nick dropped the bag on the counter and crossed the room to you in two quick strides. He crouched in front of the couch and pushed the hair back from your forehead, brushing your temple with the gentlest touch.
"You're never dramatic. And even if you were, you're allowed to be. You're bleeding out like a war zone down there and you still didn't call me?" His voice was soft, teasing, but there was this concern in his eyes that made your chest ache a little.
You shrugged pathetically. "Didn't wanna bug you."
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek, lingering there for a second. "You could never bug me, babe. I'm yours, remember? The whole package. Even when your uterus is being an overdramatic diva."
You gave a weak laugh, and he smiled against your cheek, proud of himself for getting even a tiny laugh out of you.
"I brought reinforcements," he added, standing up and heading back to the kitchen. "Let's see... we've got... extra dark chocolate because you're classy as hell. Salty kettle chips because I know you're gonna want those in an hour. Heating pad, pre-warmed. Gatorade—because hydration, duh. And..."
He turned around dramatically, pulling out the crowning jewel of his haul—your favorite pint of ice cream.
You gave a small gasp of appreciation and clutched your pillow tighter. "You're a magician."
He winked. "Nah. Just a man in love."
Nick brought everything over and sat it down on the coffee table, then disappeared again for a moment before returning with your heating pad and plugging it in. He gently lifted the blanket to place it on your abdomen, his hand brushing your bare skin. You flinched a little from the cold, and he immediately kissed your hip, like he was apologizing to your body for the betrayal.
Once you were settled, he climbed onto the couch behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you gently into his chest. One hand smoothed your hair back while the other began a slow, rhythmic massage on your lower belly, just above the heating pad.
"Better?" he murmured.
You nodded, eyes fluttering shut. "So much better."
There was silence for a little while, the kind that only exists when someone knows you deeply. Nick didn't speak, didn't fill the space with noise or questions. He just held you, kissed the top of your head every few minutes, and kept massaging you like his only job in the world was making sure you felt safe.
Eventually, your breathing evened out, and you were almost dozing when he whispered, "Can I tell you something?"
"Mmhm."
"I know you hate this time of the month. I know it wrecks you. And I hate that you're in pain. But..." he hesitated, then pressed a kiss to the curve of your jaw. "I kinda love being able to take care of you like this."
Your heart did this little fluttery thing, even as your uterus screamed in protest.
"Why?" you whispered, eyes still closed.
"Because I get to remind you that you don't have to do everything alone. You're the strongest person I know, babe. But even superheroes need a break. And I like being the one you can lean on when the world—or your body—is being unfair."
You turned in his arms, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were so soft, so full of love that it made you ache more than the cramps.
"You are disgustingly sweet," you mumbled, voice cracking.
He grinned and kissed your nose. "Only for you."
The two of you stayed like that for hours. He kept the heating pad warm. He spoon-fed you ice cream at one point, making ridiculous airplane noises until you giggled. He rubbed your back, your legs, even your feet, like worshipping every part of you was his personal mission.
He queued up your favorite comfort show without even asking, and when you started crying at an episode you'd seen twenty times before, he didn't laugh. He just held you tighter, kissed your temple, and whispered, "Let it out, baby. I've got you."
And he did.
He had you.
Later, when the cramps dulled to a manageable throb and the pain finally gave you a bit of a break, you rested your head on his chest and whispered, "Thank you for not making me feel gross."
Nick's arms tightened around you. "You are never gross. You're beautiful and badass and so incredibly loved."
You blinked up at him. "You love me?"
He stilled for half a second, then smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Yeah, I do. I love you. Even when you're cranky and hormonal and eating chips and ice cream at the same time. Especially then, actually."
You laughed, a real laugh this time, and kissed him—salty, sweet, and a little messy.
"Good," you whispered against his lips. "Because I love you, too. Even when you act like my cramps are your personal battle to fight."
Nick grinned, rubbing your nose with his. "They are my battle, babe. You hurt, I hurt. That's the deal."
And honestly? With Nick there, loving you through it all... even the worst day of your period didn't feel so unbearable anymore.
