I cross the room in urgent strides, dropping to a crouch beside the bed. My heart is hammering, my mind running ahead of me in all the wrong directions. She stirs at my voice, lashes fluttering as she opens her eyes.
She tries to smile.
The effort nearly breaks me.
“Hi,” she says weakly, like it costs her something to get the word out.
“Hey,” I whisper, without meaning to. The word comes out softer than I expect. “Hey, princess.”
She huffs out a breath that might be a laugh if it didn’t end in a hiss. I notice it then—the way her body tenses, the shallow inhale that follows.
“What’s happening?” I ask, my brows drawing together. “Are you in pain?”
She nods, small and embarrassed. “Cramps.”
And suddenly, everything clicks.
My stupid, overactive brain flashes back to late-night searches, medical articles, notes I bookmarked and reread until my eyes burned. PCOD. Hormones. Painful periods. Fatigue. Mood swings. The words rearrange themselves into something real as I look at her now.
My hand moves before I decide to do it.
I stroke her head gently, fingers threading through her hair with careful familiarity. The moment I touch her, she exhales—long, shaky—as if she’s been holding herself together with sheer will until now.
Her eyes soften.
And my chest tightens.
I shouldn’t feel this much relief at something so small. But I do.
“I’ll get you a heating pad,” I say quickly. “And herbal tea—I read that it helps. Stay here, okay?”
She laughs weakly, another hiss following right after. “I don’t think I can go anywhere even if I wanted to, Dhruv.”
I wince, hating the way she minimizes it. “I’ll be right back.”
I turn toward the door, already planning which staff member to call, when her voice stops me.
“Are you free?”
I turn back instantly. “Yes.”
No hesitation. No thought.
“Yes, princess,” I add, because it’s true in every way that matters. “I am.”
She looks at me for a long moment, like she’s weighing something inside herself. Her fingers twist in the edge of the bedsheet. I can almost hear the argument playing out in her head.
“Do you need something?” I ask gently.
She nods, but the words don’t come.
“Whatever it is,” I say, softer now, “you can tell me.”
She exhales, defeated. “Will you… hold me for a while?” Her gaze slips away from mine, embarrassed. “You’re warm,” she adds in a whisper.
Something in my chest gives.
“Yes,” I say immediately, kneeling closer. “Yes, I can.”
