He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay composed. "Don’t do that," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely steady. But she didn’t even hear him. Her eyes were already half-closed, trusting him completely.
With a quiet sigh, he adjusted his grip and walked toward their bedroom. His long strides were careful but determined, and when the handle got in his way, he didn’t bother with delicacy. He kicked the door open with one sharp movent. He hated handles.
He laid her gently on the bed, the soft sheets rustling beneath her weight. For a mont, he just stood there, watching her. Her face was pale, her brows drawn slightly together, her lips parted as she tried to breathe through the cramps.
His chest tightened as realization struck him.
He knew what was happening. His mother had made sure every man in the house understood at least the basics. She had once told him, "When a woman is in pain, that’s when you see how much you care."
And he did care, more than he wanted to admit.
Periods were sothing he had only heard about in theory, but he rembered the way his mother used to prepare hot compresses and sweet drinks for herself. He rembered her saying how much it helped.
Hot water bag. Sugar water. Gentle food.
He nodded to himself, turning on his heel and heading downstairs.
But of course, peace was too much to ask for.
The mont he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found them—his entire family—waiting for him like hungry wolves. Lina, Alessandro, and Nonna were seated together in the living room, all with the sa knowing smirk.
"Where’s our daughter-in-law?" Nonna asked innocently, sipping her tea.
"Resting," Leo replied curtly as he walked past them, trying to avoid eye contact.
"Resting," Lina repeated, her tone dripping with amusent. "How cute. You look very busy, son."
Leo’s gray eyes flickered toward her, unreadable. "I don’t care," he said simply, his voice calm but carrying that coldness that made everyone fall silent for a mont. Then, without another word, he turned and walked straight into the kitchen.
Inside, Aunt Clara was washing vegetables, humming softly to herself. The mont she saw him stride in, sleeves rolled up and expression darkly focused, she blinked in confusion. "Oh? You ca here? What happened?"
Leo opened the cupboard, searching through the shelves with the precision of a soldier on a mission. "Can you make a sugar drink for Bella?" he asked, not looking up. His voice was low but laced with worry.
Aunt Clara smiled, a bit surprised. "Of course, dear. Sothing sweet will lift her mood." She started preparing the usual syrupy sugar drink she made whenever soone looked tired.
But Leo frowned, his brows furrowing as he watched. "Not that one."
Clara blinked, pausing. "Dear, it’s just a sugar drink."
"No," Leo said, his tone firm. "Not that one. The one you can drink on periods."
Her hands froze. Slowly, she turned to look at him, trying not to laugh. "Oh... that one." Her lips twitched. "How thoughtful. You actually noticed?"
Leo gave her a look—a sharp, embarrassed glare that instantly made her bite back her chuckle. "Just make it," he muttered.
Clara nodded quickly, still smiling as she set aside the white sugar and instead took out brown sugar and a few slices of ginger. "Alright, alright," she said teasingly. "Brown sugar with warm water—it helps with cramps. You’re a good husband, Leo."
He sighed. "I’m not doing this for praise. She looked pale."
Clara stirred the drink gently, the scent of warm sugar filling the air. "Yes, but it’s nice to see you care. You used to bark orders at everyone, and now you’re in my kitchen asking for comfort drinks."
Leo ignored her, crossing his arms as he waited impatiently by the counter. When she handed him the cup, he took it carefully, testing the warmth with his fingers before nodding in approval.
"Yes," he said quietly, almost to himself. "This one."
Without another word, he turned and headed upstairs, the soft steam from the cup trailing behind him like a small cloud.
When Bella saw him enter the room holding a steaming cup, she blinked in surprise. Her hair was still slightly ssy from lying down, her cheeks soft and flushed, and she looked up at him like a confused kitten.
"You brought that for ?" she asked in disbelief, her voice small.
Leo raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint chuckle. "Of course. Who else would?" he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, his movents relaxed but his eyes quietly studying her face—the way her lashes trembled when she looked at him, how her fingers hesitated before taking the cup.
Bella wrapped her hands around the warm mug, still looking at him like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Her heart thudded awkwardly in her chest. How did he even know? She hadn’t told anyone.
As if reading her thoughts, Leo leaned slightly closer, his voice low and calm. "I just guessed."
Bella’s eyes widened, and she stared at him in open shock.
He glanced at her expression and smirked. "No," he said lazily, "you didn’t say it aloud."
She almost choked. "How do you do that?" she muttered under her breath.
He leaned back slightly, amusent flickering in his gray eyes. "Maybe I’m just good at reading you."
If I ever lose my voice, she thought helplessly, I should just hire him as my translator.
Trying to ignore her racing heartbeat, she lifted the cup and took a sip. But it was impossible to drink peacefully with his gaze fixed so intently on her. His eyes didn’t move, not even once.
"Can you not stare at while I drink?" she blurted out, glaring at him over the rim of the mug.
He ignored her entirely. "How is it?" he asked instead, his voice quiet but demanding an answer.
She sighed. "Did you make it?"
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