Page 122 of The Broken Keys

“No. It stopped last night.”

“That was short.”

“My periods have never lasted that long. You know that.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything. We sit in a moment of silence while I do a mental scan of my body.

“My head hurts.”

“I know, love.” He adjusts our position so I’m lying down with him beside me. “When did you last take your medication?”

“This morning.”

“That was eight hours ago.” He scoots off the bed. “You’re supposed to take them every six.”

“Will you get them for me?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was getting ready to do.” He grabs a sage-colored blanket from the bottom of my bed and covers me. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves me, and I admit to myself how sore I am. He returns after a few minutes with my bag, my medication, and a glass of water.

He places my bag near the bathroom and hands me the pills and the water. “Take these.”

I swallow them without argument because the pressure in my head has gone from manageable to excruciating. I need to close my eyes and rest.

“I’m going to try to take a nap. Will you lie here with me?”

“Sure, but you get comfortable first. I’m gonna put your stuff away and straighten up your place. Once I’m done, I’ll join you.”

“Perfect.” I close my eyes, and I’m pulled into a slumber once my medicine kicks in.

I wake to cramping low in my belly. The kind that makes me curl inward on instinct.

Callum’s arm is draped across my waist. His breathing is deep and even against my neck. The warmth of him should be comforting, but all I can focus on is the tightening building in my abdomen.

I ease out from under his arm, moving slowly so I don’t wake him. My feet hit the floor, and I shuffle toward the bathroom.

The cramps intensify with each step. Not unbearable, but definitely uncomfortable. I flip on the bathroom light, catching my reflection in the mirror. I’m pale, disheveled, and have pillow marks on my cheek.

When I use the toilet, I see blood.

“What the hell.” I stare at the toilet paper. “I stopped bleeding last night.”

This doesn’t make sense. My period ended, so why am I bleeding again?

I pull open the cabinet under the sink, searching for tampons. Nothing. Just extra toilet paper and cleaning products.

I move to the closet in my en suite. Band-aids, pain relievers, skincare products, and a bunch of hair products I don’t remember buying. Still no tampons.

“Where are they?” I mutter, closing the door.

“Lily?” Callum’s voice carries from the bedroom. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just”— I open another drawer. —“looking for something.”

Footsteps approach. He appears in the doorway, hair messed from sleep, and concern etched across his features.

“What are you looking for?”