A Cup of Milk Tea

The pain in her stomach was getting worse. It was the sort of pain only women would be able to understand—at its worst, it was enough to send a woman to the ground, thrashing in pain, begging for someone to put her out of her misery. Even the strongest women inevitably found themselves powerless against this excruciating pain.

Sighing softly, she pressed her hands against her stomach as she began walking, one painful step at a time.

Her plan was to get a taxi once she reached the city. Her forehead was covered with cold sweat; there was a brief moment when it was dry, thanks to the wind, but it immediately broke out in sweat again. The pain in her lower abdomen continued to torment her; it did not let up, not even for a second.