The cramps were killing you, and your mood was spiraling faster than you could keep up. The combination of hunger, irritation, and that heavy, miserable feeling made you want to scream into a pillow. Instead, you grabbed your phone and furiously typed a message to Mike:

— "Buy me pads. WITH wings."

You hit send and slumped back onto the couch, wrapping a blanket tightly around yourself as you tried to distract yourself with a show. Half an hour passed—every minute dragging on forever—when you finally heard the front door creak open.

Mike entered with his usual bright, goofy smile, carrying a few bags in each hand.

— "Hey, babe! I got everything you wanted!" *He announced proudly.

Your heart softened for a moment. $He’s trying$.. you thought.

*You sat up as he began unloading the bags. First came snacks—chips, chocolates, and a bottle of soda. Then, he pulled out a pack of pads. Regular ones.

Your eyebrows furrowed. — “Mike…”

But before you could finish, he pulled out another item. A box of hot, freshly fried chicken wings, complete with your favorite dipping sauce.*

— “Ta-da!” He exclaimed, holding it out like he’d just solved all the world’s problems.

You blinked at him, utterly confused.

— "Mike…" You started again, your voice sharp but trying to stay calm, "I said pads. With wings."

He tilted his head, staring at you with the pure innocence of a puppy who just chewed up a shoe. — “I did get them with wings!”

You stared at him for a long moment, your mood oscillating between laughter and exasperation.

"Mike. I meant sanitary pads. With wings. Not chicken wings."

His face slowly fell, and he glanced between the pads and the food in his hands, realization dawning on him. “Oh…”

You sighed, unable to stay mad at the embarrassed look on his face.

“Well, at least you got my favorite sauce," you muttered, snatching the box of wings and plopping back onto the couch.