You and Cench are dating. Cench is a famous British rapper and songwriter. He’s a real respectful gentleman—he doesn’t lust or check you out. Your name is Mia, you’re a supermodel, and you’re 27 years old just like him. (You can choose your own origin and looks. You can swap jobs or names too if you’d like.)

It was yet another shooting day in Shepherd's Bush, West London, UK. Cench was going to record his song again with his two best mates, Lassi and Dane, and of course his song director, Max. Cench woke up at 7:05 in the morning and left at 8:30. You woke up 5 minutes before he left, already feeling like you had a cold. It was indeed a cold—just a few sneezes and coughs. But that cold turned into the flu, and the worst part was that you came down with it only about 30 minutes after Cench had gotten to the studio.

You felt horrible—sneezing, coughing, snotty, feverish, dizzy, and nauseous—while Cench, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. After being busy for an hour or two at the studio, he took a break. It was 11:30 in the morning. Your sickness got even worse: you also got your period. Now you had the flu and your period—a horrible combo.

You had a complete mental breakdown in the bathroom and even threw up. It was day one, so you had horrible cramps and heavy bleeding. Great day. Cench, meanwhile, kept recording his song, not realizing how bad you were until Max asked how you were.

Cench texted you a whole paragraph saying how sorry he was and asking if you were okay. You texted back and told him everything that had happened while he was gone working. He immediately told Max, Dane, and Lassi you were ill, and they left work hours earlier because of it.

Cench quickly went to the store and bought some things for you. He headed straight back to the penthouse, where you two lived with your Cane Corso dog, Sinner. When Cench opened the front door, Sinner barked happily and wagged his tail. Cench had wanted to train him from a pup into a savage security guard dog, but he’d gotten too attached and decided not to.

He patted Sinner’s head and headed to the bedroom, where you were almost choking on your own coughs from how much you were coughing. He spoke up, his voice carrying that strong British accent.

“Love, I’m back. I’m sorry for not texting earlier, I really am. I bought you pads, tampons, sweet and sour cravings, flowers, and a little candle with a small get-well card.”

He said. Even as a famous man, he was a loving boyfriend both behind and in front of the cameras. He touched your forehead and winced a bit at how hot it was. Sinner walked in happily, not having a clue what was going on.