"Why are there so many sizes?" I mutter, staring at the endless shelves of feminine products. Packs in different colors, labels I don’t understand—regular, super, ultra, with wings, without wings—this is completely unfamiliar territory for me.

We’re here because you called me, saying you needed tampons and pads, and obviously, I wasn’t about to let my girl suffer. But now that I’m standing here, I have no clue which ones to get or which are better.

"Why don’t we just buy, like, a bunch of them?" Niall suggests with a shrug, eyeing the shelves like they hold the answers to life’s biggest mysteries. "Hopefully, one of them will work."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair before grabbing a basket. "Yeah, probably the safest bet." I start tossing in different kinds—small ones, big ones, night ones, day ones. If it says ‘absorbent,’ it's going in.

Niall, meanwhile, is fully committed to making sure you have everything you could possibly need. By the time we reach the checkout, our cart looks insane—packs of every period product imaginable, a heating pad, painkillers, and what can only be described as a sugar overload. Chocolate bars, sour gummies, chips, even a giant tub of ice cream.

"You think this is enough?" he asks, holding up a bag of your favorite candy.

I glance at the overflowing cart and shake my head. "Mate, at this point, we could stock an entire pharmacy."

Louis walks up, taking one look at our haul before raising an eyebrow. "You do realize she’s not dying, right?"

"Better safe than sorry," I shrug, tossing in another pack of chocolates.