I woke up with the kind of pain that makes you think the universe has a personal vendetta against you. A sharp, twisting knot curled low in my stomach, dragging me out of sleep with a groan.
At first, I thought it was just hunger gnawing at me—I’d barely touched dinner last night after all—but then another cramp rolled through, sharper this time, like someone was wringing my insides like a wet towel.
“Ugh,” I muttered, clutching my stomach as I tried to sit up. The movement only made the blanket slip, and that’s when I saw it.
Great. Perfect. Of course it was my period.
The red stain mocked me like a punchline to a cruel joke. My cramps weren’t hunger pangs at all—they were nature’s way of announcing, surprise, you’re still a woman, congrats.
I rolled my eyes at the ceiling and mutter
