Ella POV:
"I want my bed," I muttered through clenched teeth after Jason kept pestering with questions about what I needed, what he could do. Seriously, did he think he was going to magically fix this with words?
He sighed, like he was giving up on trying to talk out of it, then bent down and effortlessly scooped up again. No warning, no protest—just picked up and started heading toward my bedroom.
I could barely manage a groan, but before he even got to the door, I mumbled, "Also... so chocolate. Please."
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and surprisingly comforting in the midst of my misery. "Chocolate, huh? I’ll get you so after I get you settled."
We made it into my room, and Jason paused for a mont, taking in the sight of the place. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he looked around. He had that amused look on his face, but it wasn’t the teasing kind. It was the kind that said he wasn’t entirely sure what he was dealing with, but he was going to help anyway.
He carefully laid down on the bed, pulling the covers up over like he had so kind of secret skill in being tender—ridiculous. He glanced at the heating pad, then back at , as though deciding the best course of action.
"Where’s the charger?" he asked, scanning my nightstand.
"Drawer," I mumbled, barely having the energy to respond.
He plugged it in and got it going, looking over at to make sure I was comfortable before he went out. I curled into a ball, clutching my belly, trying to ease the stabbing pain that had settled in.
Jason ca back not long after, holding a bunch of chocolate bars and a bag of biscuits. My heart did a weird fluttering thing, but I ignored it—hormones, of course.
He didn’t even wait for to sit up. He simply unwrapped the chocolate and placed a piece near my lips. I didn’t argue. Chocolate. I could do that.
He sat down beside on the bed, close but not too close. His presence was calming, in a way I wasn’t used to. For a mont, I almost felt normal again, like the pain didn’t matter so much. He seed content just sitting there with , like he was waiting for sothing, but I didn’t care enough to ask.
The warmth of the chocolate lted in my mouth, and for a few blissful monts, I almost forgot about the cramps. Almost.
Jason watched quietly, the edge of his lips curling into a small smile. He didn’t need to say anything. It was like he knew exactly what I needed even when I didn’t.
I didn’t know why, but in that mont, it felt like maybe... maybe I could survive the night.
Jason’s POV:
Okay, I know ignoring Ella earlier was stupid. What can I say? My brain thought it was better to avoid her than to say sothing dumb fueled by my jealous rage. I didn’t want to lash out—she didn’t deserve that—but instead, I ended up brooding in silence, and now I was paying for it.
By the ti my stupid anger, born of jealousy, started simring down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d ssed up again. So, like the idiot I am, I decided to call her.
Of course, I knew her shift had ended—I might have, uh, casually checked her work schedule once. Okay, maybe twice. Don’t judge . It’s not stalking if it’s for her, right?
Anyway, I knew she probably wouldn’t pick up at first—Ella was stubborn like that. But I also knew persistence was key. So I called once. No answer. Called again. Nothing. By the fifth ring, I was pacing around my apartnt like a man possessed, and by the tenth, I was practically ready to kick my door down.
When she finally answered, I imdiately knew sothing was wrong. She was crying, but it wasn’t just emotional tears—it was like she was hurting. Panic kicked in full force.
"Ella? What’s wrong? Are you okay?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
All I got in return was a string of curses that would’ve made a sailor proud. She wasn’t making much sense, but it was clear she was in pain. My heart clenched when I heard her cry out, her voice cracking with frustration and sothing deeper.
"I swear to God, why was I born a girl?" she mumbled before abruptly hanging up.
Now, I was panicking. I had no idea what was wrong with her, but I knew I couldn’t just leave it alone. So I did the only thing I could think of: I grabbed my keys and made a detour to the supermarket.
I went in with no real plan, just the thought of bringing sothing—anything—that might help. I grabbed a ridiculous amount of chocolate, a pack of her favorite biscuits, and ice cream (because who doesn’t like ice cream?). Sure, I was probably going overboard, but I figured it was better to show up over-prepared than empty-handed.
The real challenge, though? Getting her to actually let in. Ella wasn’t exactly the welcoming type, especially not when she was upset.
When I got to her place, I stood outside her door for a mont, bracing myself. My hands were full, and my heart was pounding like I’d just run a marathon.
I rang the doorbell, hoping she’d answer. Nothing.
I rang it again.
Still nothing.
"Ella," I called softly through the door. "It’s . Open up."
No response.
By the third ring, I started to wonder if she’d passed out or if she was just determined to ignore . But I wasn’t going anywhere.
"Ella," I tried again, my voice more insistent this ti. "I brought you chocolate and stuff. I’m not leaving until you open the door."
Finally, I heard shuffling on the other side. The door creaked open just enough for her to peek out, and the look on her face said everything: she was pissed, she was in pain, and she was definitely not thrilled to see .
"I’d turn around now if I were you," she said coldly, her voice sharp despite her obvious discomfort.
Before I could respond, she doubled over, clutching her stomach and muttering sothing under her breath. Without thinking, I stepped inside and caught her arm.
"Ella—"
"Don’t," she protested weakly, but she didn’t have the strength to push away.
I didn’t give her a choice. Scooping her up gently, I carried her to the couch, ignoring her grumbled curses about being "a stupid jerk" and "too nosy for my own good."
Great. Just great. This was going to be one hell of a night.
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