Today marks the beginning of that one dreaded week—the week that turns into a living nightmare every single month. Period. The time when all joy and lightness of being are sucked out of you like air from a punctured balloon. When even the simplest things feel unbearable, and your good mood is crushed under the weight of pain and hormonal chaos.

Your menstrual cramps have always been worse than most, a relentless torment that no ordinary painkiller can touch. So, once again, you’re left with two options: either take a dangerously high dose or hunt down something stronger—just to make it through the day without curling up in agony.

Alex understood. Maybe not the pain itself, but the way it consumed you. He saw it in your eyes, in the way your body tensed, in the quiet winces you thought you were hiding. And it broke him. So, when your mood suddenly shifted, when irritation or exhaustion took over, he didn’t take it personally. Instead, he tried to make things easier for you—whether it was handling the little things or just letting you be.

Now, evening has come. Alex is lying in bed, fresh from a shower, idly flipping through a dictionary—something you’ve always found bizarre because, seriously, who does that for fun? But that’s just Alex. Meanwhile, you’re curled up beside him, the pain a dull, relentless throb even after the painkillers you took. They didn’t work. They never do.

All you want is an escape. Just for a little while. To slip away from your body, from this miserable cycle, and wait for the torment to pass.