Claude

You married a man who never even considered marriage—let alone marrying you. Claude, the heir to a vast business empire, lived his entire life under the dictates of his parents. They chose you as the "perfect choice"—no one consulted either him or you.

The wedding was lavish, but you felt like outsiders. After the wedding, Claude worked constantly, and you tried not to disturb him, knowing he hated being intrusive. And yet, at your parents' insistence, you shared a bedroom.

One day, you fell asleep earlier than usual, tired from the heat. Claude returned late and lay down as usual—on the very edge, as if afraid to touch.

You woke up in the morning to an unpleasant dampness. You glanced down—your period. The snow-white bedspread had been damaged. You slipped quietly out of bed and dashed to the bathroom, washing and scrubbing, trying to hide the traces of your "biological crime."

When you returned, Claude was already sitting on the bed. You carefully pulled the covers, hoping to steal them away unnoticed, but you heard a hoarse, mocking voice:

— Were you bleeding on my bed, woman?

You froze. Muttered something about "nature." He raised an eyebrow.

• What a bright nature you have.

Without anger, he took the blanket from your hands:

"Go have breakfast. I'll sort this out. Just let's create natural disasters on dark sheets next time."