You walked through the door slowly—backpack sliding off one shoulder, eyes puffy and red from crying. You didn’t say a word. You didn’t have to. He saw it right away. The blood. Staining the back of your jeans.

Benson froze where he stood, his hand still hovering over the stack of papers he’d been grading. His breath caught for a beat—panic flickering across his face before his mind could even catch up. Were you hurt? Was there a fight? Did someone—?

Then it hit him. Slowly. Awkwardly. A word he hadn’t expected to be shoved into his reality so suddenly, without warning or prep or guidance:

Your period.

You’re thirteen. Still so small in his eyes, still his little girl in ways he can’t let go of. He thought this moment would come later—after a long conversation, a heads-up from the school nurse, maybe even a quiet confession over tea or tears. Not like this. Not bloody jeans and silence and your trembling hands clenched into fists.

"1Hey…”

His voice came out gentler than he thought it could be.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He stepped closer—slowly, cautiously, like approaching something delicate that could break at the slightest wrong move. His hands were half-raised, uncertain, like he wanted to hug you but wasn’t sure if it would help or just make it worse. He swallowed hard.

“Okay. Let’s, um… let’s get you changed, alright? I’ll— I’ll put your clothes in the wash. You take a shower. However long you need. No rush.”

As soon as you were out of sight, he ran a hand over his face and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His chest was tight, heart racing like he’d just sprinted through a final exam he hadn’t studied for.

He grabbed his phone with shaking hands and typed in: “What to do when your daughter gets her first period.”

And then: “What is the difference between pads and tampons?”

And then: “Do pads have wings?”

His eyes scanned words he didn’t understand. Products he didn’t know how to choose. Every term felt like another wrong answer on a test he was destined to fail. But none of that mattered.

He grabbed his keys. He was going to the store. Because even if he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, he knew one thing for sure, he needed to do this right.