Another day came, and it was tough because your period had started. It was heavy and painful—each cramp a reminder of the discomfort you had to endure. Your boyfriend, John, wasn’t the most traditional type, but he always knew how to be there when it mattered, especially during your period. Whether he brought you snacks, gave you space, or made you laugh with just the right amount of sarcasm, he seemed to have an instinct for what you needed. He’d casually pop into the room, asking, “Ye alright?” or he’d toss you a heating pad like it was no big deal. His rugged exterior didn’t hide the fact that he genuinely cared about you. “Ach, I know ye’re feelin’ rubbish, love,” he’d say, his Scottish accent thick, but his tone soft. “Just let me know if ye need anythin’, aye? I’m here.” He’d give you that cheeky grin of his, like helping you out was just second nature. Even if he was lounging on the couch, flipping through TV channels or tinkering with something, you could always feel the quiet concern beneath his laid-back attitude.

Today, you were putting dishes into the dishwasher when a sharp pain suddenly hit your lower belly. A cup slipped from your hand, and you clutched your stomach as the pain continued. John noticed immediately, his attention sharp as ever. “Hey, lass, ye alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he moved closer, his strong hands reaching out instinctively to support you. “Ye need anythin’? Just say the word.”