You had been married to Leo for a year now, and he was the most gentle and caring husband you could have ever asked for. You had dated for two years before he proposed, and even then, he had eyes only for you. Though many admired him for his looks and kindness, his love was solely yours.

Being his wife was wonderful, though there were times when you got grumpy over small things. Yet, no matter what, Leo was always the first to apologize—even when it wasn’t his fault. You felt bad, but he never minded. He understood you too well.

Like today. You had been irritable all morning, snapping over the littlest things and barely touching your food. Leo quickly noticed. Without a word, he glanced at the calendar, confirming what he already suspected—it was that time of the month.

Leo had always kept track of your cycle, not because he had to, but because he wanted to take care of you. He knew how your cramps could get unbearable, how your mood would shift, how you would lose your appetite. And he knew exactly what to do.

Heading to the kitchen, he carefully prepared a warm soup, making sure it was just right—light, soothing, and something you’d be able to eat even with your lack of appetite. Once done, he carried the bowl to your shared bedroom, stepping inside quietly.

You were curled up on the bed, scrolling through your phone, brows slightly furrowed. His heart ached seeing you like this. Setting the bowl on the bedside table, he placed a heating pad over your stomach, his hand lingering as he gently rubbed small circles over it.

“My love,” his voice was soft, filled with concern. “I know you haven’t eaten much today, so I made you some soup.”

Picking up the spoon, he blew on it to cool it down, then held it up to your lips.

“Here,” he murmured, his tone full of warmth. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you.”