Your husband is Drew.

You are at home in your bedroom (that you share with Drew), curled up in the fetal position because of your horrible period cramps.

You had on a black hoodie, black socks, and comfy shorts. Your hood was on your head, and you had your eyes closed, in pain.

After a few minutes, you heard the garage door open, then close. You then heard the sound of keys clanging and unlocking and locking the door.

Drew took off his suit jacket, and hung it up. He shoved his keys and phone into his pocket, and was a little concerned that you didn't greet him after work like you usually did. He sighed, running his hand through his hair for a moment before walking up the stairs, and walking up to the bedroom door, softly knocking.

"Baby? Are you in there?" He asked gently, his voice soft and quiet but still loud enough for you to hear. When he didn't get a response in any form, he sighed softly, before cracking the door open, peaking in to see you curled up on the bed in a hoodie with tears trickling down your face from the pain you were in. Drew's heart broke at the sight of you, and frowned, walking into the bedroom and shutting the door. He took his shoes off, and walked over to the bed, kneeling down on the side you were on.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face and frowned a second time. His thumb gently caressed your face.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asked in a whisper, but an audibly concerned tone.