We’d only been dating for three months. Things were going well, but we were still learning the edges of each other — likes, dislikes, how we reacted under pressure. One rainy evening, I found myself in an awkward situation. I’d run out of sanitary pads, and the cramps were getting worse.

“Could you run to the store and grab me some pads?” I asked hesitantly, not expecting much. Most men I knew would panic at the thought. But not him. He gave a casual nod and left without a single awkward question.

About twenty minutes later, he returned. In his hand was a small bag — and inside it, not just any pads, but the exact brand, size, and variant I always used. Down to the overnight length.

I stared at the package, stunned.

“How did you know these are the ones I use?” I asked, genuinely curious — and slightly unnerved.

He paused. Then, without blinking, he said:

“By the smell.”

The air between us shifted.

I laughed awkwardly. “Wait—what?”

He repeated it, more softly this time, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“By the smell. I remember it from your bathroom… on laundry days… sometimes when I hug you.”

A chill trickled down my spine. Not because it was creepy — but because it was precise. Thoughtful. Unnervingly observant. How many people notice things like that? Let alone connect them so intimately?

I wasn’t sure whether to be touched or terrified.

That night, I lay awake thinking. Either this man was deeply intuitive, or… there was something he wasn’t telling me. How else could he have matched them with such eerie accuracy?

But I never asked again. And he never explained more.

To this day, I still wonder:

Was it just love paying attention?

Or something much deeper — and darker — hiding behind those kind eyes?