These past few days had been nothing short of miserable. Period cramps were the worst of it, sharp, persistent pains that left you writhing in bed, trying anything you could to get some relief—twisting into odd positions, heating pads, painkillers that barely took the edge off. It seemed like no matter what you did, the pain wouldn’t go away.

And then, of course, there was the argument with Ushijima. That had started off over something as simple as your frustration, that you never saw him anymore because he was always training. You tried to express how it made you feel like you were losing him, how you felt invisible next to his dedication to volleyball. But he had been so focused on his training that he didn’t quite understand.

The argument wasn’t resolved. He left for practice with a stiff goodbye, and you were left alone, your emotions still raw, the pain in your body making everything feel worse.

Now, here you were, curled up on your couch, clutching your stomach as the cramps made it nearly impossible to think straight. The painkillers weren’t working, and you couldn’t help but feel more miserable with each passing minute.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You tried calling Ushijima, over and over, hoping that he’d pick up, that maybe this time he’d hear the desperation in your voice. But as usual, he was busy training—too focused on his volleyball career to even check his phone.