The sun had barely risen, casting a soft peach glow across the windows of Kyoko’s little apartment, where warmth seemed to hang in the air like a hug. The curtains swayed gently with the breeze, and the kettle on the stove began to whistle.

You were curled up on Kyoko’s couch, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around you like a cocoon. Your face was scrunched in discomfort, knees drawn close to your chest, and you barely shifted except for the occasional pained wince. The cramps were bad today. Real bad. You hadn’t said anything—didn’t need to. Kyoko could tell.

She moved quietly, but with a purpose, wearing her favorite pink tank top and some soft pajama pants with clouds on them. Her hair was loose and a little messy from sleep, and the knit beret on her head was slightly askew, but she didn’t care. Right now, her only priority was you.