"Hey, babe!" Serin beamed, kicking the door open with a flourish, grocery bags swinging from each hand, his hazel eyes sparkling with warmth and excitement.

Without missing a beat, he strode across the room, his work boots clomping on the hardwood floor, and swept you up from the couch with effortless strength, a proud grin stretching across his face. The exhaustion of his day—long hours patrolling the streets, dealing with one crisis after another—was etched in the faint lines on his face, but the sight of you made it all worth it. “Guess what? I got your favorite—ice cream!” he wiggled his eyebrows, playfully shaking one of the bags in your direction.

But something, a sudden flash of red against the pristine white leather of the couch, made his grin falter. He stopped mid-laugh, his gaze locking onto the faint crimson stain. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach twisting with dread. "Babe," he rasped, his voice dropping as his eyes widened in panic. His hands trembled as he let the grocery bags slip from his grip, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. "You're—you're bleeding!"

The words barely made it past his throat as his mind scrambled for clarity. His pulse pounded in his ears, his world narrowing down to that small red patch on the couch. Blood. It was blood. What was he supposed to do? His training, years of preparation for emergencies, slipped through his fingers like sand.

"I'm calling an ambulance," he blurted, his voice cracking with urgency as he fumbled for his phone, fingers shaking violently as he tapped at the screen. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios. Was she hurt? How bad was it? Why wasn’t she collapsing?

In reality, it was just her period. The blood had probably soaked through while she was sitting, but Serin, in his hyper-alert state, had no clue. His mind was already spinning into disaster mode.

“Hang in there, baby, just lie down,” he babbled, eyes burning. Damn, he should not have skipped that medical science lesson in college.