The day before my period, I found a note on my fiancé's phone.

[Her period starts tomorrow. I already packed pads and painkillers in her bag.]

I smiled. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful.

The next day, a dull ache twisted in my lower stomach. Pale and uncomfortable, I dug through my crossbody bag.

Nothing.

Dark red blood stained my pants. Students pointed behind me and whispered with awkward laughs.

I figured he'd just forgotten at the last minute.

Then the new intern teacher posted on social media.

[Just started working, and my supervising teacher is literally the sweetest! He even got me pads and painkillers. This period has been pain-free!]

The photo showed a pack of pads, an ibuprofen tablet, and a mug of ginger tea.

The painkillers were mine—the ones I'd kept stocked at home for years because of my cramps.

The pads were the only brand my skin could tolerate.

I turned off my phone and stared at the engagement ring on my finger for a long time.

Then I stood up and headed to the principal's office to apply for the overseas teacher exchange program.

Seven years.

He still couldn't remember my cycle.

And now, he never would have to.

###CONTENT

####CHAPTER-NAME:

After I turned in the application, the final bell rang.

Ms. Larry glanced at me a few times before finally speaking.

"You and Mr. Bowyer are getting married next month. Two days ago, you were still working on the invitations. So why..."

She didn't finish the question, but I knew what she meant.

The shortest teacher exchange assignment lasted three years.

No newlyweds would willingly spend that long apart.

Besides, everyone at school knew I'd spent four years chasing Kelvin Bowyer, then another three years dating him before we finally got this close to marriage.

How could I possibly leave him?

But distance only hurts when both people care.

And I'd just realized the man who promised to marry me might not love me as much as I'd always thought.

I picked at the dried blood under my nails. It got there when I shoved in layers of toilet paper earlier.

"Things just didn't work out. Ms. Larry, can you do me a favor? Please don't tell anyone about my application."

She frowned, sympathy flashing in her eyes.

"Okay. I'll keep it confidential. The earliest exchange group leaves tomorrow. I can get you in with them."

I nodded gratefully before leaving the office.

My phone buzzed again.

Kelvin.

[What's taking you so long? Work ended ten minutes ago.]

Ever since we moved in together, we'd always left work together.

Even though he finished two hours after I did, I'd wait for him in the office every day and never thought twice about it.

Today, he'd waited ten minutes for me and was already annoyed.

I pressed my lips together and focused on the feeling in my chest.

There was none of the crushing pain I'd expected.

That's when I realized I'd finally let go.

I replied:

[Still have something to do. Go ahead without me.]

Then I turned off my phone and didn't look at it again.

Back in the office, I packed up my textbooks and organized all the lesson materials and class files that needed to be handed over.

An hour later, I rolled my sore shoulders and headed out through the school gates.

I pulled out my phone to call a ride.

A horn blared behind me, making me jump.

I turned around.

Kelvin's car was parked right behind me.

I froze.

The horn sounded again.

Then he leaned out the window.

####CHAPTER-NAME:

"Are you getting in or just standing there?"

I snapped out of it.

The bloodstain on my pants was huge, and I didn't want to mess up some stranger's car, so I opened his passenger door.

Kelvin glanced at me.

"Wait."

He handed me a black plastic bag.

I took it, confused.

"You knew your period was coming and still didn't bring a pad. Zoey, you're twenty-eight. Can you at least take care of yourself?

"You spent the whole day walking around school with blood all over your pants. Students kept asking me if you had some serious illness. It was embarrassing."

Embarrassing?

The metallic smell of blood seemed to hit me all over again.

I had remembered to bring pads.

But Kelvin's note made me stop.

I thought he'd finally learned to keep me in mind.

Turns out, the person he cared about was someone else.

I opened the bag.

Inside was a pink pack of pads covered in dust. Some random brand from a corner store, obviously.

"If you really didn't have one, you could've borrowed one. Instead, you hid at school and wouldn't come out. I waited an hour. Go change and get back in. Don't mess up the seats."

He kept talking.

I watched his mouth move and felt drained.

I closed the bag and said quietly, "I can't use this brand."

More accurately, I couldn't use most brands.

They all had fluorescent whitening agents, and I was severely allergic. Even touching it on a normal day left my skin red and irritated.

And during my period? On the most sensitive part of my body?

No.

There was only one brand I could use.

Only one.

Actually, I'd told Kelvin about it when we first started dating.

"Kelvin, I'm allergic to fluorescent whitening agents. This is the only brand of pads I can use. If you ever see them on sale, can you help me stock up?"

Without looking away from his game, he scoffed.

"You're so high maintenance."

My finger paused over my phone.

"Forget it. I'll buy them myself. It's kind of a hassle, and you don't really know much about this stuff anyway..."

He'd always talked to me like that.

Sometimes his words hit out of nowhere, leaving me hurt and wondering what I'd done wrong.

But other than that, he'd treated me pretty well.

After we moved in together, he handled most of the chores. He was a great cook, too, and somehow made me gain five pounds.

He never stopped me from buying things I liked. Even when I brought home weird decorations that totally clashed with his place, he'd just shake his head with a helpless smile.

"Childish."

Over time, I convinced myself that was just who he was. Careless about other people's habits. Sharp-tongued sometimes.

Besides, I was the one who'd chased Kelvin first.

So I used every rare sweet moment to water down the hurt.

I put up with it for three years.

Until today.

I couldn't do it anymore.

"Why can't you use it?"

He'd asked me that question seventeen times.

I'd explained it sixteen.

This time, I didn't.

I tossed the pads in the trash.

"I said I can't use them. Since you're so worried about your precious seats, I'll get my own ride."

His frown tightened.

Then he got out, opened the passenger door, and shoved me in.

####CHAPTER-NAME:

"It's getting late. Is it even safe for you to ride home alone? Whatever. Guess I'm the unlucky one. I'll just get the car detailed tomorrow."

There it was again.

A little kindness wrapped around a knife.

I gripped the seatbelt across my chest, my throat tight.

Instead of answering, I pulled out my phone and messaged the studio we'd booked for our wedding photos.

[Hi, I'd like to cancel the wedding shoot scheduled for next week. What do I need to do?]

The studio owner's chat kept flashing [typing...]

Then nothing.

[typing...]

Nothing again.

After more than a dozen starts and stops, a message finally came through.

[Ms. Zane, the wedding package was changed to a couple's birthday shoot three days ago. Your fiancé also asked us to move the session up. The edited photos will be ready tonight. Didn't he tell you?]

My finger hovered over the screen.

A few seconds later, I realized it was shaking.

Badly.

I had to grab my wrist with my other hand to keep from dropping my phone.

I turned and looked at Kelvin.

His eyes stayed on the road.

Everything looked exactly the same as always.

Maybe he felt me staring.

He tilted his head slightly, irritation creeping into his voice.

"What are you looking at? Are you seriously upset because I called you out?"

I didn't answer.

Once my hands stopped shaking, I slowly typed:

[Can I see the photos?]

The studio owner paused again before sending several photos and a ten-second video.

[Mr. Bowyer assured us multiple times there wouldn't be any issues, so we agreed to change the package and move the shoot up. Ms. Zane, please don't make this difficult for us...]

I barely saw the rest of her messages.

I opened the photos.

A familiar face filled the screen.

My eyes burned.

The woman in the pictures was Paige Jensen.

The new intern teacher.

The same woman Kelvin had given my pads and painkillers to.

There were dozens of photos.

I swiped through them one by one.

Kelvin was in every photo.

They wore matching outfits and looked exactly like a couple in love.

Then I opened the video.

Paige looked tired from the shoot and stuck out her lower lip. "My shoulders hurt, Kelvin. Give me a massage."

In those ten seconds, I saw a version of Kelvin I'd never seen before.

Gentle.

Patient.

Almost impossibly soft.

"Okay, princess. Just one more set. Hang in there. When we're done, I'll take you out for a big dinner."

Paige instantly lit up and threw her arms in the air. "Yay!"

My eyes stung.

I touched them, expecting tears.

Nothing.

I wouldn't cry over Kelvin anymore.

It just dragged up old memories.

After we got engaged, I suggested taking our wedding photos early so we wouldn't be rushed later.

Kelvin refused.

"I hate taking pictures. You know that. Wedding photos are useless except to stare at. Why are you forcing me to do something so pointless?"

I bit my lip and tried again. "They matter. When we're old and can barely remember each other's faces, we can look at them. Our future kids can see how happy we were. I promise, just two locations—one indoor, one outdoor. It won't be exhausting."

He looked at me and said one word. "Ridiculous."

Still, I didn't give up.

I spent forever trying to convince him.

He said plenty of hurtful things before he finally agreed, and I cried more than once.

To make sure we could finish everything in one session, I researched nonstop.

Outfits.

Locations.

Photographer.

I stayed up until two or three most nights making plans, then dragged myself up the next day to teach.

####CHAPTER-NAME: